touch me

i'm reading "Touching: The Human Significance of the Skin", and am suddenly struck by the passages i'm reading. some hear messages in the radio, i've found my message in a book. The passage follows:

"The loss of human physical contact generated feelings of loneliness, frustration, a sense of coldness, and a lack of emotional warmth."
"Loneliness is very much in the same class and of much the same kind as the separation anxiety that infants and children experience when they are deprived fro any length of time from contact with their mothers. It is a separation anxiety which causes us, as adolescents and adults, to become restless when alone for any durable peroid of time, and at any cost to seek out the company of others.
"Loneliness is a state of being unconnected, to be out of touch with others, of wanting to be with somebody who isn't there, of having nobody to turn to who can affirm one's essential humanity."

we know that infants who are not touched enough suffer greatly. why would it stop at infancy? i've said before that i suffer from adult onset failure to thrive. (people think i'm kidding around when i say it) an illness, seemingly unknown (okay, maybe i named it). so, maybe it's just me. but when lengths of time pass that i'm not touched, i start to wither and life gets harder. i may passionately need to "get my fins wet" and spend time at a spa, the water and steam and heat a substitute for the warmth and caress of human hands. or, i may need to reasure myself that i'm still alive, still feeling--and then we know what happens (i'm sorry E).
there is a curative power in the laying of hands on another person. i think we deny this need to our detriment. one of the women at the house today had returned from her visit to the sweat lodge. she was disconnected and said she wasn't sure who she was. maybe this was an effect of the ceremony, or maybe it was due to her mental illness. regardless, i put my hand on her forearm for a moment when we were sitting and talking. she visibly and almost instantly calmed and cleared. that touch reminded her of her self, of her connection to her body, and it's connection to the outside.
so maybe this intense loneliness and sadness, this isolation and despair is stemming from lack of touch. maybe this isn't my crazy coming out, but a simple lack of physical, tactile tenderness and nurturance.

"when will you stop cutting?"

"when my heart stops bleeding."

lullabye

you were tired when i called and hung up so easily
it was eleven on a sunday night
a long week, responsibilities of innumerable hours at work,
those that passed and those that are in front of you
i know this and sitll i chill a little
that my voice could not wake you
that my longing for connection could not rally you
and you slipped further into a yawn
and i let you go
i let you go then and i let you go now
and i've never mourned a moment unspent as i do those
those when i could have held you
those when i could have wrapped my legs and mind around you
and let you carry me fully into your world
of black and white and
wrong and right
and voiced and heard so strongly
but i let you go
after another yawn
your voice smaller than i've ever heard
so small and light i would have carried it for you
laid it down beside me and cradled it in sleep

sleep now
sleep quiet
sleep and dream with my voice the last you hear
my selfishness wants your mind on me when you can least control it
in your sleep
and in your dreams
mayben then you'll hear me

when i awoke this afternoon, i realized to my dismay that i was not tangled in a sea of kelp, that my tail was not already swimming me along, and that the only salt to my skin was sweat.

granted this did make getting out of bed and walking to the fridge a little easier, but still...not what i had wanted.

i'd dreamt in 30 shades of blue last night, each distinguishable and calming in a special way. under the water, even my skin had an azure iridescence that sparked with life, not a corpse or frozen blue, the blues we expect to see on human flesh. i shimmered with tiny aquatic currents in and over me.

and there was silence. no cars or horns or alarms or phones. no screaming or crying or argered outbursts.

everything was soft, gossamered and muffled. quick flashes of light created by reflections off fast turning fish. and the rock of the water, distant from surface and shore, was a mother swaying her child to a lullaby.

the nose that nudged me awake was not that of a dolphin, but my dog. she looked disappointed, as if she too had hoped to wake with gills. i hugged her, kissed her soft seal-like face and told her 'soon, baby. soon'.

i'm tired of running, give me a tail to swim free.
i'm tired of tears staining, give me the salten sea.

let me wake as a mermaid

this earth is to hard, i need the softness of water.
this earth is to solid, i need the ocean's sweet yeild.

let me wake as a siren

let the salty flow that's thru my viens be the same as that that surrounds me.

you, yemaya, have this power.
i pray to you.
so blessed be.

empty my mind of the rattling, clattering confusion.
empty my heart of the fear and the longing.
empty my mouth of the words yet unspoken.
empty my fists of the rage they dare not expose.
empty my legs of their yearn to run farther.
empty my eyes of these tears that still flow.
empty my arms of their need to be holding.
empty my conscience of the guilt i'm betrothed.

fill me, dear goddess, with strength and with power.
fill me, sweet goddess, with passion and repose.
fill me, proud goddess, with the knowledge of oceans.
fill me, great goddess, and let me be whole.

i guess my words aren't always heard in time or by those that they are aimed at.

i'm sorry for the uncomfortable moment.

i did have fun. thank you for the 'art-play'. i like the concept. i wish there hadn't been thong, and "my enjoyment" comments. but i didn't say that to you, so how would you have heard it.

i'm sorry again for the sour end of what had been a fun evening.

E-
your goddess touched me, and asked me to pass this on to you. (with the help of Janis of course.)

Sit there, hmm, count your fingers.
What else, what else is there to do ?
Oh and I know how you feel,
I know you feel that you’re through.
Oh wah wah ah sit there, hmm, count,
Ah, count your little fingers,
My unhappy oh little girl, little girl blue, yeah.

Oh sit there, oh count those raindrops
Oh, feel ’em falling down, oh honey all around you.
Honey don’t you know it’s time,
I feel it’s time,
Somebody told you ‘cause you got to know
That all you ever gonna have to count on
Or gonna wanna lean on
It’s gonna feel just like those raindrops do
When they’re falling down, honey, all around you.
Oh, I know you’re unhappy.

Oh sit there, ah go on, go on
And count your fingers.
I don’t know what else, what else
Honey have you got to do.
And I know how you feel,
And I know you ain’t got no reason to go on
And I know you feel that you must be through.
Oh honey, go on and sit right back down,
I want you to count, oh count your fingers,
Ah my unhappy, my unlucky
And my little, oh, girl blue.
I know you’re unhappy,
Ooh ah, honey I know,
Baby I know just how you feel.

it'll be alright. we'll get through.

4-line letters unsent.

dear __,
so many days i wish i were you. i wish i had your fire and your light. i envy your ability to succinctly speak your mind. i'm jealous you can go braless. your vocabulary stuns and awes me. and it was you, YOU, who got to touch AP. you will forever be on my list.

dear __,
how many years? i'm likely inconsequential to you now, but i want you to know that you've never left my heart or mind. in the space of a single breath i found, fell for, loved and lost you. and all because of a kiss that never happened. it was juvenile love, but it was true.

dear __,
get out of there! your creativity is strangled by the shear number of hours you have to stare blindly at that screen. not that you aren't appreciated. you are. but you are full of possibilities and wonder that will never be realized if you remain prisoner to pacific.

dear __,
push me down, pull my hair and fuck me. i love the way you do. they way you always managed to get me running back for more. with you i was most fulfilled physically, most challenged intellectually, and most lost emotionally. but one kind word, please, just one...

dear __,
i've broken your spell over me. you cast over me and cast me aside. i waited and withered. i tried to be everything for you and lost most of myself in the process. i handed you my soul when i didn't think i had one. due to your disinterest, i have it back in spades.

dear __,
i am more than body. i am more that sex. i appreciate your appreciation, but you're bordering the chasm separating flirtation and foolish. your mouth need not spill all that your eyes drink in. i feel compartmentalized by you, and refuse to be placed in such a box.

tits.

really, what's the big deal. i'm not entirely sure i understand.

yes, they're pretty, sensual, soft, sybolic of nurturance and femininity. but really.

i can appreciate them. i can. i do!

i love mine and there are plenty of women who have amazing pairs. but boys, the more you ask to see them, the less likely wei are to show them.

and the more intense you get, the more likely i am to fade away...

if there was a moment i was uncomfortable, i never told you. and that is my fault. why i didn't just say, "stop with the sex talk, it's getting obscene" or "does the fact that i'm not reciprocating any more in this play occur to you?". yes, we bantered, we've flirted. it felt harmless for a while. but now there is again touching. your hand finds my ass all too often. you press against me sometimes in a way that isn't friendly. comments about my underwear. and then there are the mean things you say. and i know you're joking, but i start to tear a little bit when them continuously come, one after another, and there are rips in my suit of armor.

i wonder if this is how you interact with all your female friends or if this is different due to your attraction. i wonder if you incite these comments and how they handle them.

i've said too much in the past, and i've said too little in the present. comments thrown across a pool table are meant to deter balls from finding pockets. a slip. but this is my fault. i should be able to say, "stop, this doesn't feel good", but the fact is, i'm so used to hearing these words from people all my life... i didn't expect it from you and now that it is you too, i'm starting to think that a body is all i am to anyone.

i've put on weight. i hate that i have. i know why too. it's a way to increase the space around me, to keep others farther off, to hide those parts that seem to grab attention. i don't want to do that. i like my body, feminine and soft. i don't need to be reminded of it all the time though.

why can't i say these things out loud?

and you aren't the only one i'm silent with. there are others. men that manhandle me verbally around sex or intelligence or personality. and i let it go. or i think i do. until i end up writing a post on it and crying.

please, read this. let me be a coward.

wish fulfilment

(this post is unedited for spelling, so get over it)

the bar was inoccuous. the band was beige. the bet was that she could get her drinks paid for. that's really the only reason the woman was out tonight. she wanted drinks and she didn't want to pay. she wanted to be treated. treated well. treated like beauty.

of the 12 people there, one struck her. she sat near him. then, neededing something from the car, politely asked if the gentleman could watch her drink for her. dark satin hair, dark fluid eyes. he nodded "of course".

she returned from her 'errand' and thanked him. he was shy. she liked that. of was he coy? she hated that.

watching the band perform cover after countrified cover she'd occassionaly lean to him and comment on this person or that. he never innitiated but his smile seemed sincere. now she was betting on shy. small talk led her to find out that his roommate was the drummer, that the shy one was new to town, and that he had no girlfriend.

he betting friend came by, let her know he needed to leave soon and tangled into the talk as best he could. in hopes that Shy wouldn't think her attached, she said that it was her mission to get her friend alid tonight, but that odds were poor judging by the agedness of the other clientel. She and Friend excused themselves, explaining thier departure, but before she left asked, "if i come back, will you buy me a drink?" "of course" again was the answer.

30 minutes passed and she'd returned, been served, and was flirting her way through a billiards game with someone else. someone who's hands kept finding her. she was amused but not attracted. he was Army. or had been recently. still wearing a logoed tee, hoping that made a difference to someone.

the band broke. Drums and Shy were talking. she joined them. they were lined on the bar, she, Drums, Shy. though she had wished for more fortuitous seating arrangements, this still allowed her to gaze at Shy while appearing to be paying attention to Drums. Drums droned. talking and asking and commenting on god knows what. she hadn't paid attention since he opened his mouth. but words like 'divorce' and 'recording studio' and 'nebraska' filtered through. her sharp tongue attempted to slice through his discourse. failure. she'd forgotten how many men like being treated badly.

finally words were spoken that she attended to. Army had comeover and asked her if she were joining them back at the beach house, the hot tub. she hadn't remembered an invitation, but it many have come while she was tuning Drums out. Shy looked on. she was looking to him for some sort of eagerness. some pleading, "yes please join us do" behind those dark water eyes. a glimmer a glimpse. it may have been there. she took a chance and agreed. Shy drove with her. they followed Drums.

when they arrived, the band had reformed. four guitars were being passed around the room as were song suggestions and chord instructions. after an hour she looked to the only other female and asked if she wanted to go outside. borrowed bathing suit in hand, outdoors the hot tub was issuing a lazy fog above the water. she undressed on the deck and slipped into the bubbling tub. the cold air provided quick contrast, and she sunk deeper.

time passed her second beer gone, Drum and Shy joined them. Drum sat beside her and Shy across. she listened as the 'conversation' sputtered. Drum's hand was on her neck. then on her knee. then tracing quick lines up her thigh. the woman neither encouraged or discouraged. she bantered. high school came up. and the girl next to her was just that, a girl. all of 22. but she made fantastic pina coladas and went inside to blend a batch.

Drum's hand had parted her suit from her skin. his fingers testing her climate. by now she had extended a foot to Shy's leg. kitten pawing him under the water with her toes. Drum's lips were on her neck. she pulled Shy to her. he hesitated. she smiled and whispered "come here". she kissed him sweetly then deeply. uncertainty mixed with excitement and flashed through his eyes.

by the time the girl had returned, the woman had managed to rearrange the seating, herself between the two men. his hands around her waist and his hands on her thighs. there was a comfortable rhythem to thier play. she leaned against Drums while he worked her breast free, her leg crossed over Shy's, working his erection. the only one uncomfortable seemed to be the girl. and soon enough she took her leave.

lips, tongues, hands, legs. she closed her eyes and lost track of who's was who's. one behind, one before, they touched and teased and tempted her. any inhabitions were gone to lust. they were in her. they were everywhere.

the night was easing into light and Drums suggested the party move inside. the three topled onto the bed and worked smoothly against each other. she traded, took turns, filled by one, felt by the other. her eyes rarely left Shy's dark pools though.

for a moment, she and Shy were alone, lying on sides, facing each other. his gaze more penetrating than anything she's had tonight. his words threw her. "i'm sorry. you're mesmerizing." her mind whirled between sweetness and strangeness. this was too delicate a phrase to turn right now. she cradled his cheek in her hand and kissed him.

Drums returned for another turn. he pulled her atop him. she wrestled for a working position above his bulging stomach. she hadn't noticed it til now, now when it mattered. Shy's hand stroked her foot, up to her knee. he held his physical contact, she held his gaze. Drums flipped her to the mattress, and after effort entered her again. she clawed at Shy's stomach and chest next to her. she looked to him, but his face had turned away. had he expressed more than she thought he had? was the game now too much?

Drum finished and tired and dropped to the side. her back against his chest, she looked to those eyes she'd been searching all night.

they slept in a tangle, a mingle of legs and arms. she woke a coule hours later, shimmied off the bed from between them, dressed quietly and left. no words, no numbers, last names. they slept as she left and grinned to herself, imagining these two friends waking naked next to each other in a matter of hours.

in her car. on the road. in her house. she was tired and wired. she was ecstatic and serene. part of her dream had come true and she was delirious.

now if only those boys had kissed each other...

i've been slack.

apologies (to the one person who reads this). i'll be better.

it's night 2 in the house. the women are sleeping. when i can't hear them snoring or breathing it's almost as if i'm here alone. and then the creaks of an old house begin and i'm immediately reminded that i'm not alone and that the 2 women here are here not only due to mental inless but due to the crimes they committed as well. some time last night my mind started it's tricks and i swore that i saw a face in the half door. but i walked the halls and paused at the doors just long enough to assure myself that all was well.

there's one who doesn't sleep well due to the bed being too soft and the pillow too fluffy. after 10 years in the state hospital, she isn't used to nice things. real forks were exciting to her.

the other seems to have nightmares. her door is nearest my office and i can hear her little cries and startles. i hope that as she becomes accustomed, her sleep becomes easier.

i know what it's like to have slept where they have. with hourly checks, doors opened, flashlights gently searching for your body in the bed. i've always wondered who the checks were really for. ensuring the safety of the staff or the sleeper. i've woken from nightmares to strange surroundings and an institutional bed. it's a horrifying midnight reminder of the depths you've reached. so, tonight, i just wish them peace.

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