Disconnect

-Delusive-
People's minds and souls
-Weakness-
In thought and action
-Strength-
Words spoken without thought
Drowning in their shallowness
For they are many
Wrapped in a blanket of themselves
Not to be awakened
To the power of their words
Never to inspect them again
Endeavor to refrain from judgment
-Face-
-Value-
All they are worth

Megan Forrest

Confused by the way you smile when we,

Grab onto each other, like you almost feel free,

Always holding your breath like you’re under water,

Forget you’re a son of God and I am a daughter,

We come so close to destroying our demons,

Yet Fucking and fear won’t lead us to freedom, 

Feel you so deeply I believe it’s the truth,

Yet I felt the same way when I tightened that noose,

The rush of your skin when you slide right inside me,

You take all my pain, fuck me til I can’t see,

You stop holding your breath when my arms are around you, 

Like you’re finally home, can’t tell me that’s not true.

Collapse into me, my nails leave marks on your back,

We don’t rest when we’re wicked, I know this is fact. 

Wounds

Letter by letter, I hear the wounds echo,

Each tone rips me open, reverberating,

Each sound wave crashes against me, 

Revealing small tears in my unhealed past.

Places I believed I had walked through, 

Where reality shows me I was still frozen, 

Soul not yet ripened or willing to truly know, 

The kind of knowing by which shame is released.

Those parts of me recoil from the light, 

Sodden and heavy with false representation,

Of myself, of my beauty, of my lacking,

Of my ever lessening stain of self loathing.

Obsessive compulsion, to cleanse the soul,

Too fast, too often, too sterile, 

Unveiling an unattainable picture of what should have been,

What the soiled, sick nurture has said is so. 

Love is not sterile, nor is the truth,

Embracing, longing for what is raw real, 

Dirty, disheveled,  pride in reverse, 

Freedom, accompanying compliance with imperfection, 

Foreign feeling of radical, redeeming acceptance. 

Rejoicing in gifts of visceral, venerable pain, 

A novel conception of weathered old wounds, 

And the bitterness of unclenching a fist, 

Allowing recoil from familiar chaos,

Creating space between critical me and condemnation. 

Courage through the burgeoning unknown,

Uncovering the grace of surrender, 

Softening the nettling of new naked skin,

Skin that mends, not masks, magnificent echoing wounds. 

Megan Forrest

January 1, 2022

 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.”