i’m covered in stones. soon, they might have to dig me out of the ground, search team and all, because i will be so weighted with stones, that i’ll sink into the earth and vanish, and the only way i will stay alive is by the magic of stones. once they dig me out, i’ll be like a miracle child, and they will turn me into an icon. then they’ll strip me of my sexuality, and turn me into a blue robed mother. the part they stripped will fall to the sea, and sink to the floor, rising as venus. then they’ll turn me into a whore. i’ll forever be anointing feet. hiding from the world. the experts will tell me it’s a complex. the astrologers will look to the north node. forever i am em-blazed as the high priestess in the tarot cards. i flee into moonstone, and then they can’t do anything to me anymore. then some chic will put me around her neck and we’ll get along great. she’ll speak for me. slowly, over time, i will coat her with my essence, like a glazed full moon, she’ll follow a decadent call inside, that nobody cares about but her, and some friends she talks to. oh well. after today’s conversation i’ll decide to stay on the hill. again. talking to a true native brings perspective and a sense of devotion. could i ride this ship till death do i part? don’t have to think that far ahead. but i like whats happening in my heart. it’s becoming less hard to be content. even though waves of unhappiness crash through, and pull me into the undertow, i rise like a duck, and keep floating along. when i was a kid, we moved a lot. every four or fives years. this gypsy thing is in the blood. i’m used to it. i’m a rolling stone. but i am also, not this. the myth is changing. the myth is alive. it grows like a flower and seeds like a tree, and this changing myth lives inside you and me. i want roots. my heart is opening to this world. not just beautiful nature. but the city. the chaos. the gristle that turns the mud ball into a pearl. when you see this reflected in another’s heart, it’s soothing. sometimes all you need is a little soothing. but when you don’t get even a little, the little turns big and the big throws a fit like a child who is being ignored. living on the hill is like living in a vortex. it sucks me in. the cafes i go to are magical and the owners of the places i love are gateways to other worlds. i don’t know what i am saying anymore. sometimes i just feel like rhyming. my heart is opening. love is pouring through my veins like warm golden cinnamon. happiness is not anything to obtain. not even true love, even if my heart calls to true love like a seed stretching toward the sun, not knowing it’s the sun it’s stretching toward. in a way, i know nothing. here, i am guiding people, and i know nothing. no. i just know the inside. show me any inside, and i will know it. that’s my role. but the outside is like wtf dude. i don’t know the outside. the old way i knew was robed in blue, made to be a whore, stolen, persephone…you know the bit. but myths change. i am carrying a friggen yoga mat. i just need to get into the desert once a month. i need the desert. when i go into the desert, i dry out. and i see. i see the outside too. being a rolling stone has kept my heart on the run. but my heart is not wanting to run anymore. like forest gump she just stops one day. one day, the blue robed mother gets off her throne, takes off her blue robe, and dives naked into the sea. one day, she stops hiding in the corners of dark places, living moulin rouge fantasies. red lipstick is made from crushed dead bugs. i am gonna write this myth while living it. remembering it. this will be the new dark room. in a house. candles lit. blue people all around me. coming out to do things and then going back in. this stream of consciousness is a brought by mercury retrograde, fire trine, lunar eclipse aries full moon….not gonna edit it therefor, in honor of the eternal child living in us all. getting in a hot air balloon now. see ya.