Thought Stream #1

I was thinking earlier- just thinking, understand- about shapeshifting, and my gender and orientation, how I think about sex and sexuality, how I handle my friends and family, the way I have this nymph in my head who won’t leave me alone whenever I try to lay down, she doesn’t let up about anything and everything, it’s exactly like trying to turn myself off and being completely unable to find the switch. I sit in bed and stare at the ceiling and listen to Nymph talk about how she has it so rough, about how everything that goes on is to her detriment, how she doesn’t have enough sex and how she wishes she could find someone to be with and yet there is no one for her except maybe three people, but she doesn’t think about those people because she’s Nymph, and that’s not what Nymphs do, and she tells me that that’s because it’s just the way she is.

I shut her out and don’t listen to her for a while and I find my thoughts drifting to the way I think about people- ME, not her, untainted by her corrupt and self-centered ideals, no, instead I think about how I treat others around me, like my family, how I treat my siblings– my brother and my sister– and how I think about them in general, and there’s a part of me that rebels against that because why should I think about them? They’re just there, they’re there and important, integral and integrated into my life as easily as strands tied into a rope, but it’s my rope, isn’t it, not theirs, they are a part of my life but they don’t own my life and so I think part of me wishes that they didn’t have such a big impact, that they couldn’t easily cut me down with their words, that I wasn’t so vulnerable to what they had to say. Whenever that part gets too loud I stop.

I think.

I say, “Sam, you’re hurting yourself.”

That’s another thing that bothers me. I have a name, but everywhere I go people use pronouns instead. Whether it’s masculine or feminine doesn’t matter so much; I prefer to be known as either Sam, or Eris. I realized earlier that it was awkward whether it was he she or it that people referred to me as, because I am none of those and all of those, and it’s impossible to really tell which I want to be referred to as until I open my mouth and say it, because I’m lazy with my clothes and fairly shy about putting on stuff that identifies me positively as male, female or inbetween. I prefer androgynous clothing, sure, but nymph sometimes says I’d be most comfortable wearing absolutely nothing at all and letting the motion of my body identify me, so that people didn’t look at my clothes and say ‘Oh, skirt, she’ or ‘oh, boxers, he’ or ‘which is that person?’ but instead looked at me and all of me, my body and therefore my current expression, and that ties in with my shapeshifting.

I want to be able to shapeshift so that I can identify as who I am instead of needing to identify as what people assume I am and I know how that sounds, it sounds like I’m just too shy to tell people what I’m all about, but even when I do tell people it’s easy for them to slip up or maybe get angry and shun me which very few people seem to do anyway since I always like to hang out with a tolerant crowd but you know there’s always that fear, I mean no one really wants to have to come out over and over and over again, that’s just something that you have to do in order to survive, isn’t it, and I guess that’d be okay if it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t really enjoy having to come out, I want people to be able to read me the way I can read them, the way I can open them up and read their emotions and thoughts right on their faces, the way I can sort of understand exactly when someone feels a certain way after only a little time getting to know them, people always tell me things about themselves they don’t even need to or don’t want to or don’t understand themselves, because it’s me who’s looking at them, me and Nymph, and we pick people apart subconsciously.

Maybe that’s wrong, maybe it’s totally horribly wrong and we should stop, but it’s automatic, we can’t help it. As a pair, we are blessed and cursed with the ability to read people, and so it feels unfair in any conversation we end up getting into- like really? why do we have that advantage? Why can’t other people read us so well? I try to be transparent, but I’m really terrible at it because I’m so used to acting one way in front of different people, it’s like I have layer after layer of masks on and the more masks I put on the harder it is for people to see exactly who I am, and I hate that feeling, that feeling of hiding, no one wants to have to hide all the time, it’s just necessary. It’s just required, just a thing that needs to be done in order to safeguard yourself, and even if you don’t want people to know everything there is to know about you, isn’t it better to be able to, I don’t know, be able to tell people about yourself without having to actually TELL them? I don’t know, I just don’t, and Nymph doesn’t seem to know either, for all that she’s lived through and done in all of her lifetimes, in all the time she’s been alive and well and all the memories she’s been through and kept and cherished.

Shapeshifting would let me show people how I was feeling, what I was feeling like, I would be able to express the colors of my aura and the colors of my feelings in something like three D expression, if I could shapeshift anywhere other than here it would be easy as pie to tell what I was thinking, I would be comfortable in any of the shapes I picked and I would be able to tell people what was on my mind without feeling like a liar and a thief, a thief of time and meaningful value, a thief of emotion. I don’t know. I always feel like a thief of time, I always feel like a thief of emotion, like some kind of vampire, sucking away at the happy feelings of others without even meaning to, like I live, subsist on the happiness of people other than me, and I guess sometimes I do, sometimes I do that thing where everyone else is more important than I am.

Lately I’ve been breaking away from that, as I should. I am every bit as important as anyone else out there, there’s no reason at all for me to feel like I’m less important, but it happens, and it’s a key part of the depressive phases I go through, that along with my own emotional frustrations and my own dealings with people who repress the way I am (who are actually rarer than the people who accept me).

Well I said I’d talk about gender, and I did a little of that and talked a little about Nymph and also my shapeshifting, so I suppose I’ve accomplished my goal. Just on accident, too.

—-

I have three stories in the works; Green Eyes, a story about one of Nymph’s memories, dramatized and fantastic, Pride, a superhero story set in modernish times, and Slaves of Sand, a spinoff tale from an old, old sci fi story that I started and never finished.

I work on any of these intermittently, but I’ve been so worried about things lately it’s been hard to find the time to write as much as I want to. It may be a while before you see these stories, as a consequence. Sorry!

In any case, rest assured that I’m alive and mostly well. Just had to get this stream of thought up and out of me. If anything I hope the rambling was mildly entertaining.

<3s,

Eris

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Poem: She Spoke to Me

“Bathe in darkness,” came her reply

When I asked her

Of the path below:

 

“Bathe in darkness and sing without song,

find a place where the light is long gone,

Strike out the last of the matches you hold

And with flames snuff out

Your hope, shining gold.”

 

The path below is what I seek

She told me where to go

She spoke to me of things

I could not heed then-

But now I know, I know.

 

“Hurl a curse at a dying man’s fears

Forge a blade from a whore’s ice tears

Cut through the veil with that knife of deceit

And you shall find the way

To the path

Below.”

 

She spoke to me

First in dark

Bathed in its silky soft touch

She spoke to me

Then in light

Her form hissing

Shining far too much

To look at.

 

Now she speaks again in form-

-neither light nor dark:

 

“The path below is fraught with danger

Fear its hardened, bladed edges

Its walls like steel razor;

The ground beneath your blooded feet

Is paved in molten gold

And all that touch its surface burn

Until their tale is told

In scorchmarks on the metal wall

Their ashes imprint forever

The agony they suffered as

They moved through their endeavor

To cross the path below is not

A task for the faint of heart

So tell me mortal, tell me please

Why must you depart?

Stay with me in my domain

Live here ever after

Dine on roses, plums and cherries

And forget that world’s disaster

The terrible, monstrous deadly world

Filled with mortal afflictions

Here you will never grow old

And be free of all infection.”

 

Do I answer yea or nay?

I wonder now, right here

I have not answered yea or nay

And know not why I fear

To give an answer straight and true

To tell her I must leave

 

Again, again I ask why now

Repeating her bold words

Why tread the path to mortal earth

The path below my feet

Why move along that razored ground

And burn to naught but meat

Why shackle again this soul to walls

Of flesh, blood and bone

When I am happy here with Her

And nothing

When I am alone.

 

©2012 Sam Oliver (Eris)

I’m not sure what I was really thinking when I wrote this, but it took me a little bit of work to get into something I was willing to present. My poetry is dark right now, but I’m actually feeling pretty good, today. I was thinking of writing some more about gender later on, it’s been a while since I’ve so much as poked that topic. ❤

Cheers,

Eris

Poem: Elsewhere – They call you Alice

Elsewhere

In a darkness

In a place devoid

Of light

 

She stands

She holds herself high

She wields that blade

Like a piece of fallen star

 

Shining darkly

Shining truly

Shining for her

Only for her.

 

Call it love,

Call it hate

Call it now

At any rate

She needs to hear the words

You speak

To know she is

Alive.

 

Ask her

The name

Ask her

The place

Ask her what it means to be

Alive and undisgraced

 

She can’t answer

Her mouth won’t open

Set in that grim line

Set her hands around that hilt

The tip is pointed too

Not at you

But at all those gathered

In the dark

Around her

Wanting her.

 

Her lips part

Only once

To let the dark inside

To collect it deep within herself

So she can finally hide

From watchful stares whose eyes beheld

The glow inside her heart

She knows that if she smothers it

They can’t take her apart.

 

Alice- who are you truly

Why did you kill the queen

When did you fall down this black hole

What does it all mean?

 

Alice- if that is your name

Why come from  yonder star

You dropped down here

Inside this dark

And knew it’d take you far

 

Alice- conquerer of old

Your sword a piece of heaven riven

Your skill with blade and sky above

Unparalleled

As through the earth it’s driven

 

To slow a fall that shan’t be slowed

You’ll reach the underland soon

Drop with blade from numb’d, cold fingers

To land on stone- below no moon.

 

Alice- From whence did you come here?

From whose hands were you delivered

To

From whose lands did you hail?

 

Alice- To what point do you fight?

The men of surface’d halls do stand

Around you in the night!

Call down wrath

And ruin again

Raise up that mighty sword

Its deadly edge shines brighter than

The written or spoken word

In starlight.

 

Alice, your heart will win no wars

Your courage break no walls

The love inside your frail body

Can not keep your foes

Away

 

To fight you must be strong

To stand you must be true

There’s no internal spirit that

Can help to push you through-

This land.

 

They call you Alice

Alice the brave

The first to fight the fey

In this glorified cave

Their glamours were like children’s dreams

Their hearts were made of stone

They subjected you to cruelties that

The devil would not condone

 

Alice whose heart was strong and true

Who lifted up that silver star

Who brought light down upon us all

And killed a tyrant queen

So answer now explorer bold

Who treads where mortals dream

Why?