I had a dream last night, TMSMOE was crying, he was pitching one of his usual fits. In the dream I witnessed his entire show: trembling lips, filling eyes as he tries to look away & change the subject but only by a degree, only enough to bring it back to his pains & hurting, trying to show his "deep emotional scars" - too soon giving way to the raw open wounds that he is nursing - every imagined slight tearing them open again as he pours just enough fresh blood onto them to make them look new, his Munchausen of the soul still hidden from his audience, he pulls them in closer begging for their trust, begging to trust, appealing to the softness, the mother, the goddess in each woman present. Mouthing words of adoration, solipsistic stories of their strength, tales of their passions he admires so desperately, much as he had often attributed stories of mine to others - he did the same to them, the questioning glances as they each sought the true owner of the tales he told. Once his audience was won he broke into his sobbing, awaiting their coos and comforts. They obliged, willingly, warmly, wanting to heal him, to let him be strong, somehow, someway. I remained watching as he feigned strength, anger, self-righteous indignation, he rose & punched the walls, kicked random objects before collapsing in tears again into their waiting arms nursing his newly won wounds. A soldier returning from a war only in his head.
I turned away, I walked away, I wanted no part, I didn't want to hear the words of others that I failed to warn them. I didn't want to be held accountable for his lies, for introducing them to his manipulations. I wanted more, I wanted a partner for my crimes and a man with whom to share a scar or 2. A man who cannot comprehend calling me loving and compassionate and worthless all in the same breath. A man whose "love" for me means more than an appreciation for a cheerleader. I was speaking this as I walked, down a path, towards the lake. It is just after sunset, I can see seaweed swirling beneath the surface as I get closer. The water almost matches Johnny's eyes, that shade of green that I used to find everywhere & now can only see in dreams. I walk along the beach until I can find a nice boulder. I swiped at the dried weeds, curling up on it, my feet dragging in the water. I finally looked across the water, I saw the fires, burning brightly, beckoning someone home. Hands on my shoulders stopped the chill I'd hardly noticed. Warm and dry on my chilled skin. My nostrils filled w/ Sandalwood and Frankincense. My feet felt more than water, hands were stroking them, cold hands, colder than the water surrounding them. I laid back into the arms of the man standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, rubbing his face in the stubble of hair on my head. I realized I no longer had hair, just the stubble, a bit of fuzz. He kissed me below my ears, whispering beside them, remembering I hate the sounds of breath in my ear. He started to sing, his voice throwing me back to every cold night w/ the band, every hotel bed every time Michi stole the comforter. Swirling back to my head, I realized what he was singing, I realized there was a voice joining his from below, my feet were no longer below, but cradled on a cold lap, arms around my lower legs. The songs change, I'm swaying, unhindered, but alone in movements. We just sang for hours, never tiring, hardly moving, I rested between my 2 dead bois.

I woke up laughing this morning, reaching for them, humming our songs all day. A perfect start to fall as I gather in all that I that I have sown this year.
"After all, I am all that I'm about to be
And all that I have been is no longer me
So here I stand, one grain of sand

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