Lately I have been thinking about ‘Voice’ and how any of us of whom walk this earth has any. 

As an artist.

As a thinker.

As a citizen of this planet …. And The Love Letter We Leave Behind ….

it feels like 

        there is something important to preserve that —may be is becoming lost. Is this the role I should take then. 

There is so much futility. I don’t wish to add more to the heap. But still—no….it feels lazy to shrug it all off ….not my problem, not my generation, not my place, not my role; and it could be true. But I ….can’t. It seems I just can’t. It seems I am unable to sleep at night because I am haunted by the sense….I just did not play my part as I should have, and it won’t shut up so it could be it’s just a mental dysfunction I have…. DNA memory from dear old dad. Believing I needed to make an impact on humanity. I ….could have just inherited the delusion and it’s time to snuff it out….but….it seems wrong;a waste; an irresponsible attitude after everything —all the shit of the past.maybe I’ve been aware all this would happen and would have to first ….before I gave my voice 

Jm muse; disarming the complex noir

“You know those subtle things that ….happen—looking back….you realize what ….” I stop to take a breath —then, forge on, “you missed….” 

Jörn watches me. We have spent days together enclosed in this ….time we have together ….it has allowed me to learn how to let him in again 

He says,

“go on, tell me….duva—what was it ….? I am not here as your head shrinker, or spy— you should know by now ….we have a bond ….”

I must turn away. I am not used to any such ….kind words ….life has been so brutal to me for so long. Kind words make me cry

I will all of my strength not to weep and swallow as a painful tear breaks my wall. But I cannot let on. I am me. I am mine. I belong to me. And I am fine….nothing comes in and nothing goes out and we are very very far far away ….not here….

“he said ….” I stop. I start. “He said….” I stop I start. 

“‘Cuckold’ he said,” I glance at Jörn, “it was always in their fights! And point to me! He’d say, ‘you think I don’t know I was cuckhold? That bastard nigger baby….’”

and the asthma kicks in. 

I don’t let on. 

I am strong. I am tough. I don’t need anybody ….and there, the agony releases —my shield 

I am armed. I am prepared. Nothing comes in….

“….yeah,” I say, “it was scathing and hurtful remarks to me—he said ….cruel things all the time, of course. Stupid. Was number one. But I tested genius as a kid. He put me down for being dyslexic but he never came out and said it to my face but he said that no one in his family history had my problem. And pointed out physical things about my body as I was growing up. They were insulting now thst I understand what he was saying ….

“but I was just in the way…. Wasn’t I? He just hated me for what we know now for a reason that is ….i was a product of sin; adultery. The product of his wife fucking a notoriously famous politician. You know? Even though she knew Ethan first; loved him all her life; was her first and true love; forced not to marry!!! Because it was the way it was—born on the wrong side of the blanket. I blindly have carried the weight of their ‘sins’ ….and offered myself as scapegoat to thst father —why, Jörn? Because I felt it! I felt it. I could never quite grasp why ….but I felt dirty ….and I didn’t know why ….what did I do? What was this curse….?”

a window opens Beth, ed and id

So what if I don’t like their reality? I create my own reality 

Yes 

           alas 

        a sudden glorious 

     …..epiphany 

24 Janusry 2025/Jm muse chron

Today I get a message from Josef asking me if I could remember to pack up some things he forgot to bring 

That is more than just one message; there are several in just that humble seemingly innocent request. 

I see it come up but I walk across the room. I think again of Manhattan —how long has it been …. 

The penthouse renovations would have been completed six months ago. Ilya has her hands full with three kids now. But all the carpentry and some interior details took the longest to complete. Historians had to be consulted to match colors and fixtures with the era 

So…. with the shadow Interpol director pretending to retire and wasn’t it Jörn who claimed he was his cover? Which poker face is not bluffing? They play off each other don’t they ….the sun on the longhouse from the dream ….i remember now.  The Folkmoot ….

It is usually only the boat and the hut from those dreams but ….there was the voyage and the stop at the ….island 

Everything though feels different now in such a way that lifts me and bathes everything in a brighter light…. I’ve been sketching again, and painted twelve hours straight on the mural …. I am me again or is it that I feel accepted fully for me? What peace this allows. Such flow of inspiration is renewed

Thoughts before sleep

 

My thoughts are so wild after. It is hard to sleep. How does Jörn always immediately pass out after? —when I wish for just a little more of closeness after. It leaves me empty sometimes like tonight. Perhaps it was how much he stole out of me. I find …. I feel sort of used and it makes me sad. 

So I think afterwards as I listen to the sounds of him sleeping beside me. So strange to sleep beside someone again. After so long. I didn’t think I could again. But it was harder to stay awake the first night back with him. It’s always been so easy with him. I fit into the crook of his shoulder and his warm scent fills my dreams —and keeps the nightmares away I have found. There was only one other man I slept well with but …. he is long behind now, I suppose, as it is best.

Actions speak louder than words and those memories with him have a scar…. I do not want more of those. As he ultimately 

never made the time for me in his life

And then there was Jörn who began a new chapter in my life—is it because whatever how it occurred here was someone who finally noticed I existed 

That I exist. To feel at last significant is a new awareness. A new realization. So I suppose at last I am fulfilled and this is new; I must adjust—dare I say happy? Yes. I am 

 we begin to prepare for return to Manhattan I have started to realize

I am coming out of a thaw —Jörn has helped, but also time here in the mountains has healed me 

I begin to feel I am preparing to return back to ….the world ?

Perhaps soon—not yet…. I am liking these quiet times alone with Jörn. Our private covent just me and him —nobody else around ….for now 

I get sleepy now ….

Audio_01_24_2025_00_04_53.mp3



Noir of King’s princess’swho lie back and think of England

my master ….he holds me down and looks into my eyes,

“when was the last time you said you lost track of time?” but he says this as he kisses my neck and I am still bound 

“I never said.”

“The last time you heard of something —an act someone claimed you did ….”

He stops here 

I hold my breath 

I go within but —no I am caught….into his ….weird connection to me —his power

it pulls me. it…. is some invisible golden rope which ties my deepest self to him and with it —and with this; ignites some unknown primal sexual trigger within which —by now I should know how ….to fight 

“It was a long time ago. I was at a party in New Jersey ….” how does he disarm me so that ….?

“Tell me,” he says

leaning over me and holding me down as he bites my neck,

“I will look after you….” like a vampire holding me on the edge, he bites sadidtically into my neck so that I am forced to whimper,”” he says,”tell me—I own you, duva.”

“I behaved badly at a party thrown by my Portuguese friend’s friend ….we studied together at the Academy of Dramatic Arts ….one night after on 42nd street …. Amtrak to New Jersey …. .she snd her friend got me drunk snd then apparently ….i transformed into this wild personality who was smoking cigarettes!!! And throwing back double scotches!!!! —cracking jokes—!!! and I said things I should not have ….but I don’t remember —to this day—any of it…. !!!!” I don’t even look at him; it still is a horror to think…. but why do I tell him? And with every word of my confession …. I feel …. that weird power like a vibe pounding into me …. his energy does …. things to me—his very scent even. Still I only say, “So…. That was the day I decided I wanted to find out about regressive therapy because …. before thst …there were …. things ….”

“Hush,” he says, “close your eyes ….That’s enough for now….” 

and then yes …. I do forget because he turns me and ….i cannot say here 

and later ….

And as he holds me down ….

I am caught with wrists bound and stare up at him —as I think ….he has been my beacon of light …. through it all …. I’d never have gotten through it all —the fbi man, sunny—he listened to me through all the horror…. if not for him …. I’d not be here now I know …. And this I think as I feel….. his mouth is warm on me …. 

And he says things …. to me no one ever has ever said—

as his mouth kisses me there—nobody does it like him and no, not just his mouth; it is the promise of this for more various destinations which he spells with every syllable of his artful tongue. 

No. Nobody does this like the man with the vampire eyes

“I own you,” he says and drapes his body across me like a giant stallion and fucks me like a Viking