the desert of j’adore

“It’s you that I adore .....

lovely girl, you’re the murder in my world 

Drinking mercury 

To the mystery of all 

that you should ever leave behind 

in time 

you’ll always be my whore 

you’re the one that I adore....”

—-‘Ava Adore’ lyrics by Billy Corgan from the Smashing Pumpkins album ‘Adore’


https://youtu.be/yzVQT5EgDpw


there is a moment when you try to reach through in dream to confront the bogey man

but sometimes another dream enters and the dreams overlap

Dr. Rothschild used to say it was a ‘defense mechanism’

the same reason why I have blocked memories ....because it is more than the waking mind is prepared for

But I have found that over the years the veils that kept me safe from their being recalled have worn away to thin and ....

suddenly in the middle of a day the awareness of what it hid is fully realized —and they seem —incomprehensible

....those moments when you stumble

     those moments when you understand why a tea kettle might suddenly combust

then crumble

My objects mean different things

      especially in dream —like blood

not always a purging; it is sometimes just more of the side affect of trying to dig it out


but more often than not, the manner to prove I am tougher than pain;I do not feel pain; I do not feel ..... I do not feel anything and nothing gets in

I do not feel

Nothing gets in—I do not feel

only I am never prepared for hypothermia

Such as now

I have wandered outside I realize and barefoot and cold whether I feel it or not —every part of me is shaking as I try to walk towards the house

sometimes you detach


The first memory, the first image of the memories.... I ever had of the pirate was on the beach.... the cold frozen ground and gray light with the wind and looking up at him. It was not the first memory but the first memory I realized..... but it was his eyes and how he narrowed them against the wind....

and exactly how he looked at me —with claim..... like how Jörn looks at me when no one is around; when he adorns me and dresses me —like the strange and erotic way he washes me

only....  it is the feeling like I have known it before—with him; have known him before ....like his fingers when he handed me coffee that day, now so long ago, in his kitchen

—I remember the way his fingers had brushed across my hand that caused me to look up at him suddenly and then I saw it there..... that first time because

I became aware of the den inside his mind, because it was familiar and had to be the reason why we became lovers before we even knew each other; because we already knew each other .... it seemed


“I’m going to put an alarm code on all the doors,” he says now, “—put your arms around me, min lilla duva.”

when I realize we are outside and that I have been dreaming

in between dreaming

....he wears a wool trench coat over warm flannels and he pulls me inside his coat with him