My brain still speaks in rhymes inspired by you,

I can’t help what my heart is required to do,

My breath caught in my chest, crashed to my knees,

You ignore my existence, through this pen I bleed,

You said you’d always be there, always to listen,

I cry to deaf ears, your heart locked up like a prison,

These lines they fall empty, the words sound dull,

I’m crashing, my heart aches, you won’t break my fall,

I know your intentions filled to the brim with the best,

I’m tired, I’m screaming, someone else’s heads on your chest,

How could you reach for my voice each day,

Just to use me, refuse me, throw me the fuck away,

Rage seethes, I boil, calm and serene on the surface,

When will I learn the lesson, its not love if it hurts us,

I was selfish and smitten, I succumbed to your smile,

I said I’m not in love, my heart, littered with denial, 

If it was just supposed to be fucking and fun,

Why do you shut me out, why did you run?

I never asked you for more than you gave,

You certainly tied me up, made me Pain’s slave,

You’re body is steel, why is your courage so weak,

I am trying to release you, I scream in my sleep, 

Disheveled, deluded, imagination tricked me again,

Erasing your touch on my heart, alone with this pen. 

Dumb Blonde

Sultry sex to silent stress, 

A muse must make you crack and cry,

I fucking hate how fast I fell, 

My intellect does not mean I’m wise. 

Next boy never numbs the pain,

If another harlot would the halt the hurt,

My lips would wander around another,

My perfume pressed on someone else’s shirt.

You just taught me I’m not built like that,

I can’t bounce from chest to chest,

A painful lesson I’m still learning,

This darling’s disheveled and perplexed. 

I wish I was made slightly stronger,

That I had a heart of stone or lusted less,

I smiled when I moaned your name,

Now it’s sound delivers deep distress.

Next to you were the brightest days,

Regret and realization of time misspent, 

Feverishly I toil to fake no feelings,  

Knowing now how little that I meant,

I am the owner of all these open wounds,

Many fools would love to kiss,

Hopelessly haunted by your hands,

And the many signs I chose to miss. 

You quietly quelled my questions, 

Dumb blonde didn’t dare to doubt,

I am sick and you are sick of me, 

Withdrawals weaken me now I’m without.

That sweet strong grin can sucker punch,

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes,

They undressed me just the other day,

Unbeknownst to me, the last kiss was goodbye. 

In confusion, coerced chaos, raw to touch,

I’ve been here so many times before,

So familiar this ache of letting go,

So tired of my heart and head at war. 

Yet I know you owe me not single thing,

My sweet is never attached to payment or return,

I can’t help my heart is built to break, 

I get leveled each time it gets burned. 

Some days I’m tattered and worn,

My patience proves to be thin,

Grabbed the rose again by its thorn,

Losses cut never quite feels  like a win, 

Other days I connect to the goddess,

Slide in like a boss to my power,

Like the universe, at my best when I’m oddest,

I serve up a little sweet with my sour, 

Its wise to leave yesterday in the past,

Yet in pain I get some sick satisfaction,

I may not be good but I’m made to last,

Tongue biting wit, curves made for action, 

Today may be tears, but he still makes me wet,

My smile will eventually rise with the sun,

There’s not a moment I’ll waste on regret, 

I’m too fucking courageous or stupid to run. 

I open this blasphemous book every day, 

I sit here writhing, writing with my pen, 

My careless clumsy hands cannot keep up, 

So I lose my brilliant, broken mind again. 

I stumble through my twisted thoughts,

Watch my inked fingers turn to claws,

A beautiful mind it just might be, 

Its musings the agonist of my fall, 

Wondering am I too much or not quite enough, 

My egregious ego and it’s unanswered questions, 

Driven myself and the devil slightly mad, 

Always on guard always second guessing,

My reflection doesn’t match my face, 

Historically hearts have never been sure,

To trust myself in the hands of another then,

Discarded, ripped open, left wanting more,

Build those toppled walls right up again,

Protect my heart a little longer,

I swear patience isn’t wasted time, 

I promise this time I’ll be stronger. 

Just Friends

Emotions often elicit ideas, 

Push me ahead of myself, 

Hyper focused on him,

Can’t see anyone else, 

My thoughts they go crazy,

Dare not speak of forever, 

Fearful and unsteady I waiver,

Retreat and say something clever, 

Hide the shock on my face, 

He still smiles every time that he sees me,

That his mind hasn’t yet changed,

See my past and his hands round my neck hasn’t freed me,

I have never belonged to smile or a touch, 

That wasn’t broken, but steady and stable,

I have never been kissed by lips I could trust,

I have been willing but I have never been able,

To set aside my pain, placation and pride,

Spent my life always looking over one shoulder,

Still, I stop holding my breath,

When he pulls me in closer,

Lose myself just a little,

How he can quiet my mind,

Make me forget I’ve been broken, 

Used and left far behind,

It was all just a figment in my head,

Over and over told not to attach, 

I’ve never followed the rules,

Contracts and bridges burned down with one match,

He disconnects in the blink of an eye,

Reluctantly, I reel my hope right back in,

I don’t regret when he held my hand tight,  

Even if we have to let go of “just friends.”

I only desired a sweet, simple distraction, 

A patch on the past to push pain far away, 

Bruised ego escapist through fleeting attraction,

Now I’m a slave begging her master to stay,

Freedom forgone I pull and choke on this collar,

Somehow I always lose pride and end up on my knees,

They tell me my value is akin to cheap whores and a dollar,

Mind begs to me to slow down, my body says faster please,

As a hopeless romantic I’ve learned a lot about bruises, 

To the chase and his touch, once again, I succumb,  

I’ve learned little of love and more about tying nooses,

I am not skilled in playing games, I never have won, 

My thoughts they run darker, deeper than I’d like to admit, 

It’s a relief to just melt into the bliss of your skin on mine,

There are so many rotten mistakes I can’t seem to forget, 

Is there a difference between pleasure and wasting time?

I’m a fool on fool’s errands, I execute them so well, 

Are the stupid and courageous but one in the same?

If he feels like Heaven I dare not drag him into my Hell,

Still I love the way it sounds when I’m moaning his name. 

 Sitting in my absolute favorite quiet spot, thinking, front of my four favorite headstones. Meditating. Observing. Taking photos. Being with my own spirit. I began to think, my favorite place, with so many skeletons, made of bones underneath me, and I too have bones inside me… I then thought what a weird thing to think- bones inside me. Are they inside me, or am I also my bones? What does “inside me” mean? Where does the “me” begin or end? Does it begin with the most distal layer of my skin? Or does it extend to the energy that surrounds my physical body? Am I a spirit, that operates and exerts a presence in the world through the conduction of electrical impulses of thought and motion and emotion. In the absence of my bones, and electrical impulses, what am I? Before and after them, what does it look like to exist? I wonder if the owners of these headstones ever thought about the impact they would have on life, as their lives and deaths and their final resting place for their bones are now one of my most peaceful spots to be alive. A place where I come to reflect to bear witness to my own thoughts and emotions as I quietly observe them jump around in my human body, sometimes smoothly, sometimes coherently, and sometimes without seeming rhyme or reason. I am connected to their bones, and beneath this earth that gives us life and receives us after it is done. I did not know them, but I wonder what their lives may have been. As I sit here in my curiosity and wonder, the phrase from another headstone I passed on my way to this sacred spot, comes to mind. Just the word, “Loved.”  To me, this connection I have to these bones, makes me realize that the connection I have to my body, soul, and spirit, is “loved,” as is my connection to the humans in my life. Whether we crossed paths for a moment, or our connection is something stronger and longer lasting, I hope you know that you are “loved” by me, and our connection has meant something to me, and impacts me in ways I cannot always express. I am learning to love, and to allow myself to be “loved,” because of these connections, each interaction that has brought me to this very moment in my life. My emotions today are stormy, but I am connected, and I am grateful for the strength in my spirit  and yours, and for all of these bones.  I hope the impact I have on those who take a chance to know me is one that helps them learn what it is to be “loved,” and when I am gone, I hope if there is anything to be said about me, it might be as simple as “She loved.” 

 A few years ago an old friend of mine said, "I don't even know who you are anymore!" I said, "I do. I'm the person who has always and will always be the person who is there for someone when they have nothing and no one, because I know what that feels like, to be lost, hopeless, and invisible." However, I had no idea how incapable I was of actually being there for anyone, because I was so lost, hopeless, and when I looked in the mirror I saw nothing to love. I had become, and always have been I think, invisible to myself. Today I'm learning what is love, how to be there for myself and others, and ever so slowly, when I look in the mirror, I am beginning to see a person who is worth love, worth being there for, and has something to offer, if just the ability to share my experience and the strength I am finding,  to offer a hand to hold in the darkness, and to lend an ear to listen. No one could fix me until I was willing to fix me. No one could love me until I was willing to love me. No one could help me find hope until I found the gift of desperation. Today I am willing to hope, today I am willing to let go of the impossible need to be perfect, and today I am willing to accept that I am a work in progress and I will always be. Today I see to be alive is a miracle, because that desperation has nearly taken my life so many times because I couldn't understand that I cannot make demands on others to fix me or to solve my problems. Today I am grateful to walk beside such amazing humans on the same spiritual journey of discovering self. The biggest lie I have ever told myself is that I am alone. The biggest truth I have found is that I never have been and it is my choice to fight and stand alone or to surrender and be embraced in the sunlight of the spirit that lives in everything and everyone. Today I am grateful for my tribe. Today I get to be there for myself and others, to see where we are the same rather than separated, and to find the light that joins us all as beautiful humans. 

Lots of love, 

Megan

For Today

Attachment is plastic, molded by madness of the mind,

Some moments I stumble, I am too far ahead, or maybe too far behind,

Sometimes I can’t breathe, mesmerize me, his eyes can stop time,

Quickly look away, break his gaze, don’t dare let him look behind mine,

Trust the universe and the unknown,  doubt lies in fickleness of mankind,

On the surface I’m steel, tears and years spent cementing this wall,

Map my escape as matches and gasoline frighten me less than our inevitable fall,

Torn between love knows no bondage or bounds and God hates us all,

Seems I never know when to give up, push through even if I have to crawl,

When our bodies collide, reason withers, route of escape I cannot recall,

Foolish to imagine what may be, to proceed with procurement of plans,

Historically pure hearts and intention slip right through my hands,

Climb into his caress, briefly lost my composure, I hope he can understand,

Find I feel free under his fingers, yet I will never force or demand,

Imagination is irrelevant, falling or dropped, it always hurts when I land,

Fires never apologize their heat or fierceness of their flames,

Neither will I for my soul, reckless and raw, bright with beauty and pain,

My heart is courageous, creative, although it’s never been sane,

I refuse to regret how it opens, or how he feels inside me when I moan his name. 

For today, for the moment, we are the sky, though the weather may change. 

Fucked up, in my feelings, need the surrender of silence,

My mind muffled and mumbling, grasping for guidance, 

My thoughts get so thick, my head hurts vehemently, violent, 

My hope hangs so heavy, sometimes I sink and succumb, 

Free will fights my faith, intelligence intercepts, desire to be dumb,

Revelation, realizations, my caress can be cold, nearly numb, 

Endeavor to articulate emotions, earnest and arguably apathetic,

Seduced by the storms, his hands are fire, force me to forget it,

Perilously paused in the passion, inevitably we either rise or regret it, 

Like the worst of the weather, I emulate the extreme,

My soul’s shines like the sun, make you weak in the knees,

I hurl hurt like a hurricane, estranged, envious, and unclean, 

I believe none of what I hear, I hide from half of what I’m seeing,

I forget to fight, so feel, fuck, free me beneath the weight of your beautiful being, 

Might be mistaken, marred by misconception, lost in lust, we long for meaning, 

Seems one lover or another lies, while one walks away withered, wasted, weeping, 

Show me someone coveted, certain, not damned or dauntingly deceiving,

My heart’s hasty, heated, carelessly courageous, often left here barely beating, 

So perfect the pain, ruthless, raw, reckless wounds wide open, body barely breathing, 

Crawling I come back, fierce, fighting, faithful, for fuck’s sake, I am fiending, 

My heart holds horrendous hope, tireless trying to tease my mind into believing,

Rarely regret the love or the lessons, greatest gifts are given by the grieving,

Succumb to insanity, sweet sounds, bare bodies intertwined, sultry seething,  

Forgiven, fantasized, filthy, fixated, focused, the unknown I am steadfastly seeking. 

 

In my past I’ve dressed up to absolutely undress them,  

So good at seduction, can’t care to interpret affection, 

With each one before, intentionally misrepresented, 

Entrapped in my guilt, engrossed, procuring perfection,  

Caresses careless, our bare bodies just a distraction of self,

If I don’t know who I am, be damned if I allow anyone else,

Emotions were playthings, placating, placed high on a shelf,

Writhing, wicked and worried, from love I rebelled, 

Impossibility enveloped tomorrow, everlasting escape from today,

Cover tears, cover track marks, ask me, I am always okay,

Regrets, rage and reformers, push them, push reality far away,

Medicated, masked, and metaphored, kept my demons at bay, 

I, wasted and wounded, a wretched wreck on my knees,

I found fucking courage in chaos, and fought to be freed,

Now lying naked with with you, I’m not hiding from me, 

Trust the truth never will lead me near to where I shouldn’t be. 

Traded torment for lessons, in that way we’re the same, 

Filled with forgiveness, yet still sometimes we sink in the shame,

Perceived past is cracked and filthy, so much dirt on my name, 

You’ve existed there too, revel in my releif that I needn’t explain, 

Forged by fear and in fire, hail from both Heaven and Hell, 

Still some nights, wake up screaming, damn these demons can yell,

Directly at dawn they depart, in my darkness, they dare where they dwell, 

I betrayed the Beast, my sweet spirit, when my sick soul was no longer for sale. 

We seldom search for silence,

The sounding sweetness of our souls,

We’re desperate, dark, deserters,

Pristine, pretending we are whole, 

Forced and fake, our fortunes, 

Embrace the empty echo of our past, 

We speak as if our hearts won’t shatter, 

Yet grieve as if we are made of glass, 

Is there a heart without the heavy, 

A secret smile without the sad, 

Can we breathe beneath the broken, 

Or are we betrothed to all that’s bad?

It is making love that courage craves,

Clearly we are cowards, creating walls, 

We lust for lovers beneath our lips,  

Yet pride prepares us to fear the fall.

Knees and knuckles bruised and bleed, 

Crawling, knocking on locked doors, 

Behind them ne’er a fucking thing I need,

Until I unlock mine, I’ll yearn for yours.

Cast Away

He says the silence up in Heaven soothes like none I’ve ever heard, 
                                                                                               He whispers poison in my ears, sounds far from the absurd,

I can show you how to ease the pain, he croons to me with knowing eyes,

He’s not a martyr or a saint, he fills my mind with truth, his kisses, and his lies, 

I devour every syllable, though I dare not ask his wicked name,                                                                   

He never lets me talk to God, he said our souls they are the same,                                                                            

He wraps me in a grave of guilt, his needs mirror to me my own,                                    

After all we share the shameful pain, of being cast away from home, 

With him I fear I need no other, as red coals blister my hands and knees, 

Tells me I love the way it burns, I can only utter “please.”

Before him I long to kneel, I lose myself in his eyes and in the crowd, 

My pain is home, no place like it, we martyr pain as if we're proud, 

Even fools can have it all, casually binding my hands while he recalls, 

His lovemaking akin to the quiet sound, of my sweet soul being mauled, 

I scarcely even seem to notice, his gentle breaking of my brittle bones, 

I take his hand and his promise, tells me I’ll never be alone, 

Consuming lies off silver spoons, squandering whats left of time,                                             

Never furloughed from his side, you see, only the Devil calls me “mine.”

My sinful side stumbled on your arrant attraction, 

The way you bit your lip was a welcome distraction,

My bare ego naive, engaged by flattery and flirtations,

I never learned to distinguish love from damnation, 

Surreptitiously sweet as if you didn’t once crave my attention,

If you fucked me for a month you’d rethink your direction.

Yet I barely recall those moments of skin, intertwined,

I don’t overthink shallow things, like your body on mine,

I forgot I can’t swim til I scraped my knees on the bottom, 

I still choke on the words, both unspoken and forgotten,  

If you knew you’d take me somewhere I’m not supposed to be, 

Would you disengage sooner so today I could walk free?

Or do you know me too well, how I am stubborn and raw, 

How I’m addicted to chaos, how I will still take your call. 

Would I go back to strangers to escape my own fate?

Placation with lies and as I say I don’t wait. 

 

 

  

Goodday

 Grief is wild experience. Gutted raw one moment, blood rushing through my beating heart, doubled over, sobbing, feeling as if my rib cage might crack open for the world to see... numb the next, blackness, stillness, staring at an empty by canvas just waiting for the next emotion to paint the next scene... (and man can I make a scene, just ask my family or those I let close to me.) In the next instant I succumb to feelings of pure joy, laughing and smiling as I drift through the memories of kindness, connection and love. Overwhelming gratitude fills my soul, that a life has touched mine so deeply. I try to pause to thank the universe for those rare people who come into my life and show me grace and share wisdom and their truth.  I feel so vulnerable and open... and just as quickly I am then usurped by fear and utter disbelief. I feel it all at once, and then in a moment I feel nothing at all. I don’t know how to do this, to walk through this without something to put me on autopilot. My body feels clumsy and awkward, and I don’t know what to do with my hands or feet.  I begin to understand how beautiful that unknown can be.  I am in awe by how much power there is in love, a power that prevails over even the greatest pain. It must, or we would never ever open our hearts to one another and risk the tidal waves of emotion that come when it is time to say “until we meet again.” I am so incredibly lucky, or maybe stupid, or maybe brave, or all of the above, to believe with all my being that love is the most powerful energy ever created. I am so humbled to stand at a place in my life where I have been given the gift of understanding that pain is temporary, and it only exists in such a raw and borderline violent form because today I have real love, and I have relentless hope, and I have been given the grace of forgiveness and a heart that is soft but strong. My heart is broken, but I am still whole. Yes, grief is a wild emotion, but love truly binds the Universe together. I love you, my friends. Thank you for sharing your lives with me.  💔♥️

A Reflection on Death Calls

 So, as it were, I have recently undertaken a new position in the grand scheme of time. Call me what you will, as my official title is "removal technician," but this new job has begun to reveal a different perspective in my view of life and death.  The work I do is for the living, and to honor the bodies of the souls who no longer live within their human home. I transport the bodies of the deceased, yet I do not seeing it as a job in the "death" industry.  To me the "death" industry is more akin to capitalism, to the fear of death, to look young, to take that pill despite the side effects, to live in constant panic of what you do not have.  While possibly considered a morbid obsession, there is a part of me that has always been fascinated by death, probably a part that exists within all humans, yet it is just one I have been given the opportunity and willingness to explore. 

There is something to be said about my new experience, as I process it, and as it continues to mold and shape my outlook on the value of life and the inevitability of the end of it. It is a wild and solemn and, for me, curiously exciting experience, the process of receiving a death call, of letting myself into the funeral home, picking up the van or Yukon (me looking something like a soccer mom to anyone pulling up next to me, with a very different cargo load in the back), ensuring the mortuary cot and blankets and cover are all in the van and ready to go, and meeting the funeral director who is mentoring me through this process. There is a distinctly unique smell to the back rooms of the funeral home, and I can tell you that working as a nurse and smelling the smells of the sick are not the same as the smell of death. I have seen the inside of the crematorium, the dust that settles over everything near it, felt the heat that still remains days after it has cooled. I have seen more bodies in the last few months than the average American, and I am confident that they are empty shells, with the glow of the soul gone, transformed into wherever our energy goes after this life. That's not to say there is no presence left in the building, but in and of the body itself, there is nothing that has yet made me uneasy, however surreal this has been at times. 

As it is for me in nursing, to be able to be allowed into a persons life during their most vulnerable moments and to be given their trust is a truly humbling action, which is an honor to be given. Pulling up to the homes of the families, I have often seen them waiting in the window for us, families in all different stages of the grief process. Their attitudes and expression of emotion varies widely, but the underlying theme so far is one of gratitude extended to us as we ensure that their loved one will be treated with respect and dignity.  Some are eager to help, some just want to allow us to take care of it all, some have many questions, some have a lot to say, and some just remain quiet with tears in their eyes. To witness the exchange of emotion between the family members, their support of one another, their goodbyes to the deceased, is to exist right in the dead center of pure, vulnerable, strong and raw love. What a gift it is, to be able to witness and support a persons grief, because isn't grief a window to the story of a persons love? 

My encounters with these humans are brief, and I have only been on a handful of calls so far, but the magnitude of what I witness is powerful. It has me reflecting on all of the interactions we have with one another while we are alive. How each one impacts us in some way, shapes our experiences of love, pain, joy, and ourselves. It makes me realize my own mortality, and through that I am praying for the ability to more than ever appreciate each moment I have and those who choose to spend their moments with me. While at times I will admit, I have later become overwhelmed with a sense of urgency to accomplish more, to love harder, to say what is left unsaid, to hurry life... but I am able to use the tools I have learned in my recovery to breathe, to pause, to meditate, to pray, and to recognize that because I am human, sometimes fear will creep into any new experience, and then I get to choose to live in faith, and not fear. To remind myself that my job is allowed to impact my experience of life, and that it in fact SHOULD impact my experience, because I am human, and I never want to allow my experiences in life to cause me to seek to be desensitized from what I am feeling. 

I have already lived a life where I ran from all that made me feel vulnerable. I have been a ghost wandering around the town I love while I was still alive. I sought to numb everything, the joy, the pain, the love. There is no strength in pretending to be strong at all costs. To be fake and plastic and robotic and self centered. Life for me is about fully embracing this human experience, and allowing it to shape my heart and soul. I am not saying I have mastered any of it, but I am truly giving it my full effort. I am making progress in this journey of self and journey of connection with others. So much of love was taught to me by placing myself in positions that showed me what love is not. It takes courage to be vulnerable, in a world that seems to profit on fear, jealousy, and hate. It takes courage to be vulnerable, to explore the parts of us that are dark and uncomfortable, to try to grow into something better than we were yesterday, to learn what real love could be, because so much of my life's experiences have been shaped by my own inability to accept myself and recognize that I am whole even during this growth process.  I am learning that I do not need to hide the parts of me that are still unrefined and unpolished. That I do not need to have it all figured out, that I can have faith and embrace uncertainty, that what is right will come when I am ready to receive it, and that the only thing that I should never leave unsaid is that I love all of you who take the time, or have taken the time, to connect with me on some level. True connection, it is beginning to appear, is based on my ability to be vulnerable, because who could ever connect with perfect? Time is a gift not to be taken lightly, because it is the one of the few gifts we can give that can never be replaced. I am so grateful for you. Thank you for helping me learn love.  

Free

Weak withered soul, I sleep alone

To spite the ones who make me moan

How foolish are they, to crave my kiss

Guilt festers amidst sleepless nights like this

She-devil in the open, sweet Hell unfolds

Torn tethers on our wrists won’t hold

We escape the confines of our shackles

Break my evil bones, their hearts I rattle

My lovely lies tempt, teeter on the truth

Cover the pain with paint and glue

Masquerades and faces, distorted smiles

Paint my rosy lips with dark denial

Tease the true with metaphor

Frantically lock and bolt and chain the door

I distract, I act, I create a scene

I excel, I attract, think thoughts unclean

Poor peasants praise, my guise so tight

Egregious ego evades God’s will and light

I curtsy, I bow, I seek standing ovations

Broadsiding the noose, my pretentious placation

Hope hangs them like art in my gallery,      

My feigned faith will never set me free.

Megan Forrest, 01-21-2021

3 AM

 It’s almost 3 am and I can’t find the door,

Stuck in a trap no escape through the floor,

I’ve been praying to God still my demons won’t sit,

Too tired to stand, traveled too far to quit, 

The windows are shuttered, it’s too dark to see,

I’m not on a milk box no one’s looking for me,

Before I commenced my compass was broken,

Sleepwalking the streets suddenly I’ve been woken,

Forty one forks in the road where I’ve misread the map,

Bastard birds ate the breadcrumbs so I couldn’t turn back, 

Blinded with fear, consumed by disgusted desires,

My heavy hearts healing from both frostbite and fire, 

My mind is weakened by the whipping cold wind,

Soothed again is my soul by unfulfilled wishes and sin,

Far from true north, I’m no good with direction,

Pressed in the paradox can’t seek both love and perfection.