A Hymn to the Moon
Thou silver deity of secret night,
Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade;
Thou conscious witness of unknown delight,
The Lover's guardian, and the Muse's aid!
By thy pale beams I solitary rove,
To thee my tender grief confide;
Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove,
My friend, my goddess, and my guide.
E'en thee, fair queen, from thy amazing height,
The charms of young Endymion drew;
Veil'd with the mantle of concealing night;
With all thy greatness and thy coldness too.
- Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Bollocks!
Mood: Emotionally exhaused 
Listening to: Death Cab for Cutie - A Lack of Color / Smashing Pumpkins - Blank Page
Reading: The Border of Paradise - Esme Wang
Drinking: Water
Eating: Dust mites
Where's the fucking space to put what song I'm listening to? And what I'm reading? And what I'm drinking or eating? And my goddamn mood! What the bloody hell is this bullshit? How am I supposed to accurately convey the entire spectrum of my being without these tidbits? You disappoint me, DeviantArt! These are quality indicators to one's full mood! 
I kid, I kid. Sort of. I am outraged, but in a non-angry way. Is that possible? I say it is. All of those tidbits are missing from all of my previous journals as well. LAME!
I suppose I'll just have to recreate it. I don't want to have to do it from memory. I don't really recall. Why didn't I take any screenshots of that shit? That would have been helpful. I made it up. So there, DA. 
I've been lurking around here again, mainly to scour my old journals for information on past trauma. That's been fun. I still miss the old community that I found here, with people long gone and mostly untraceable. Hell, I didn't know a lot of people's actual names. I'd like to find that here again. A lot of random people have favorited the last poem I uploaded in like 2014. I still need to go back and delete the really bad, awful, terrible poetry from my super early days as a poet. That shit's just embarrassing. I've been saving all of my old journal entries, so once I complete that, I'll start removing things. Maybe I'll upload some of my newer writing. Catch some new eyes and hopefully good critique. I strongly need a community of artists. I sort of found that in a workshop I did last month, but we've all been inconsistent with our Zoom meetings. The Discord chat has fizzled as well. I need more from a community. I hope I can find that here again. This was such a wonderful place for me as I was growing up.
Shit is crazy. Our country is in shambles. It has been headed in that directed for quite some time, but this year has just been out of control. I'm too tired to really expand on these thoughts.
It's hot again. We've had a heat advisory three days in a row. I want so badly to get in the pool, but there are always people in it. 
I'm just trying to get by at this point. I don't have to go to my horrible job anymore, which is a huge relief, but I have to find something else while also finishing up my degree. All while my state has had many consecutive days of explosive cases of Covid. Eek.
I suppose this is all for now. Is anyone still here? Or do I have to find new fuckers to engage with?
Gallery 'o Nonsensical Poo
I'm headed to a poetry open mic at a local cafe and was looking for an updated version of an old poem. Instead I found a gallery full of crappy, juvenile, one-sided poetry. *shudders* Why did I ever share some of this?! *shudders again*
That being said...I'm gutting this bitch. Bye Felicia.
I'm on fire
I endure the flight
Of little wings of white-flamed
Butterflies in my brain
These ideas of mine
Percolate the mind
Trickle down the spine
Swarm the belly, swelling to a blaze
That's when the pain comes in
Like a second skeleton
Trying to fit beneath the skin
I can't fit the feelings in
Every single night's alight with my brain
What'd I say to her
Why'd I say it to her
What does she think of me
That I'm not what I ought to be
That I'm what I try not to be
It's got to be somebody else's fault
I can't get caught
If what I am is what I am, cause I does what I does
Then brother, get back, cause my breast's gonna bust open
The rib is the shell and the heart is the yolk and
I just made a meal for us both to choke on
Every single night's a fight with my brain
I just want to feel everything
So I'm gonna try to be still now
Gonna renounce the mill a little while and
If we had a double-king-sized bed
We could move in it and I'd soon forget
That what I am is what I am cause I does what I does
And maybe I'd relax, let my breast just bust open
My heart's made of parts of all that surround me
And that's why the devil just can't get around me
Every single night's alright, every single night's a fight
And every single fight's alright with my brain
I just want to feel everything
I just want to feel everything
I just want to feel everything
I just want to feel everything"
seasons of your day
For some reason I feel the need to save all of my DA writings and revise those worthy enough for revision. I was such an awful writer when I started in 2002. I continued writing cliche crap for years, but I'm glad I found an outlet that suits my mind well. I received much positive feedback here over the years and I'm grateful for it. I wish the community here were still as active as it once was in 2004. I suppose I'll start posting these revisions as well as some new material. My new notebook is almost half full. 
As I reread my old poetry and prose I find myself traveling to strange places in my mind, places I had long forgotten, places that I recall often, and places I'd still like to forget. There are some seriously embarrassing things I posted for all the world to see. I was a lot less apologetic than I thought I was, so that's pleasing. I see my teenage self as a scared little girl(she was), but I was a lot braver than I ever thought I could be at that time in my life. It's interesting and encouraging to see how much I've grown and mutated as a writer and as a person. I suppose once I revise what is worthy I'll try to make a book of it. That's what I've always wanted, right?
Yesterday, I was writing in depth about how I frequently feel as though my brain in on fire when my nose started to bleed profusely. I still think my brain is on fire, but at least my nose isn't dripping from the flames.
