untitled because who cares

i, for one, don't. care, that is. not today.

will it ever be known? when will i know who i am. i think the answer is never. or there is no answer.

sometimes i am so in the groove. going. strong and knowing self aware and accepting and sure of who what where and the way is open. feel with joy all that is l i f e. i feel the angels and the faeries and even satan as they flit around me. revel in the questions and let go of the answers. know and feel and experience that nothing matters. muse on the humanity and inhumanity of humans and retreat to my self when the going gets too tough. i won't be solving the world's problems any time soon.

feel frustration and as my ego drags me around insisting on being recognized for the brilliant peacock that she is. perform on stage and in bed and in the matrix and watch myself be a star. at least that's what they tell me.

what words in our fallible language describe who i am.

woman painter dancer sexy mother wife grandmother swinger cock connoisseur bi curious bi sexual prude hot monogamous liar floor crawler unfaithful brilliant wishy washy indiscriminate unsafe risk taker thief gardener loner singer writer grasper mean spirited bible thumper vacuum-er creator careless haughty arrogant spell casting flamboyant energy guts blood visceral entrails unforgiving beautiful toothless pudgy wrinkled funny grateful loud thinker silent muser arguer attention diverting attention power hungry damaged child murrell girl #3

even now my self asks, is that all you can come up with? those are things that you DO. and

none of it applies.

not one word.

ahhhhhhhh look to the ceiling and writhe my face screws up with grief my skin feels so uncomfortable --- peel it off...