Thursday, September 30, 2004

It's There

just underneath my skin. Words. Screams. Pain. Sadness. Desires for things of the flesh and to hurt the flesh. Maybe it's just because my mother has been around the whole damn week , eating into my private writing/working time, sweeping beneath my feet as I try to edit a poem about how I do not translate. Maybe it is because my sister keeps making tiny demands which add up to alot. Maybe it's because I am craving what I keep denying I want , a relationship. Maybe it's reading about some ex's being happy without me and not hearing a peep from others I hope are miserable without me. But it's there. Waiting. I surround myself with activity. Lunches, dates, poems, stories, meetings, activity. Anything and everything to keep that part of my head quiet. But I think it is getting tired of being ignored.
"You can pretend I don't exist but I always have and always will" it threatens.

I haven't had a drink in over a week. I haven't had sex in three.

I don't know if I should ignore it or give in.


Blogger MedicineWoman9 said...

Ay Mala, this is what I was talking about with my "stuff" post. That feeling is so oily and sticky and nagging and suffocating and all of that at the same time. I don't know what to say except I hear you.

10/01/2004 11:59:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

sex fiend . hold the cooch.

10/07/2004 12:46:00 PM  

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