--/--/----

She says, “Como se llama?” and he replies, “I have no name, what do you wish to call me?”
Questions weighing on questions, she wraps her legs around his waste like a partial womb. His eyes squint and readjust focus. Weaving his fingers in the hair that is behind her neck, he clenches it teeth and pulls her face close. His breath touches her before the kiss. Moistness mixes and dreams drown the light, the chair he sat in, the soldiers with the guns outside, everything drowned in one humming ecstasy.
Latter they are found lying lazily in a room, like all other rooms, dark, dimly lited, and thick with a subtle sent of sage. She says, “I think I have something en mey eye”. He moves close to see what it is that is. A small hair of an eyelash is wetly laid against the moist white skin of the outer iris. He gently rubs his finger against her eye and slides the small hair out. She winks, fast and intensely to see if it worked. She looks up with eyes still watery and says, “Thanks”.
Sitting across the room she picks at the residual of her badly painted toe nails. She looks up to him and asks, “Por que viniste to mey apartment?”
He says, “You asked me to.”
“verdad”
“Didn’t you?”
“Supango maybe I did”
Silence strands itself for a few seconds and then he stares into her eyes a little longer, she smiles, and the drowning begins again. The broken windows of her apartment let just the right amount of air move in from the ocean. She says, “I love you...usted tiene una bonita...mmm...smile”. She continues to smile, and returns back to the picking of the nail polish. He tells her, “You act like a child in bed”. "Que dijo?", she stills her actions and waits and then begins to crawl on her hands and knees slowly across the room, while he stands in absolute stillness. She slowly puts her lips to his ear, breaths, and then recoils away from the ear, and forcefully bits his lower lip and lets goes.
She says, “You are my codero, pacífica” She grabs a flash light from under the pile of clothes in the corner of her room and says, “sígueme”. They head out the back, there are lambs wandering towards the setting light of the moon. She turns to him and reaches down below his waste line while he calmly admires the hills in the moon light; she touches with her slightly cold hand, exchanging heat with the temperature of that which lies below.
The pale moonlight coated what was beginning to be the fog of dawn. She held him in her hand, and in her mouth, and her motherhood beamed. Being next to his side and knowing that she will always be his guide is what caused them both to strip naked in the open field. The haze danced and twisted above their bodies. All the songs that they will have to sing will be sung alone with that foretold breakdown. But this story is not about him, but me, Ella the Mother with all the god stirring children.

00/00/1998

I am fem. Ferrel fem. Family fem. Fenomenon.

December 23, 1998

A hand can cup my shiver when I can’t sit still. A pinch of a kiss in my dreams with a mind that has no personality, if anything it is an extension of my mind, for all these men want to fuck me when I don’t’ want to be fucked, and I’m so much better than they think, with their stupid sticks, they get dizzy on blood with those throbbing filled up sticks, I could give a fuck, I’ll snap those fucking sticks. Along with their red blood eyes…cancerous with their hands on their sticks…a deadly tree that never shades…men I eat whole when they think they have me…I bite through them deadly…giant storm I AM and I rob them of their soul, and snip their little fuckers off…

December 22, 1989 or 1898

The crowned fire settles on the mountain. Ornaments of the future…ELLA is laying new weight for all our longings. Groups of elder women corralled in a room playing pretend for the sake of filling their time with something other than nothingness. Loneliness is the culprit for our need to pretend …young aerial being with thin soles on her feet, stumbles through these landings…alien …mundane…purely normal…fostering additives to personalities…lasting lonely though…store front gigantic in the distance…she looks at those illuminated crowns of fire…adverting the night clouds…where can her longing go from here, but into our pockets, down the drain after a shower…after a wipe, a scrape, a dent,, that young dancing girl without family, I am her and she is me…existing after all these things…but we all must go and so must she and so must I…where….forward walking backwards…crippled in the gaze of the saints and their laws…but she is breathing and in that breathing her breath finds air and in a finding there is a pursuit…getting back to the home …that really was only a home in moments…spinning into sleep she faces her mother…golden. ELLA why do I bleed from the INSIDE?

October 16, 2006

A quick rise of my body…someone picks me up with giant hands. That is all I remember. The evidence left around is a glass tube that is not mine, butane lighter that is not mine, and a napkin smudged with lipstick. I think I’ll get new shoes today. Maybe sandals, because the ones I have, cut the inside of my big toe. I tried wrapping tape around the sliding thong that purposively is cutting into my toe. I’m sweating a lot today, more than I usually do.

October 16, 1999

A black square hovering in the black night, a baby dreams of a silent square silently floating…hovering. Hidden guns in the hidden mind, the mind hidden in the aim of the gun shooting its line across the sky into the floating black square in the floating black night.