love

Day 229: Phlegm in a Cup and Love

| Aspergers Girls

Now as much as I love, love, love someone else doing the dishes and fretting about dinner, the trade-off of viral bronchitis—so not worth it!

Seems some nasty bug is circulating the state, well at least this town. Watch out for the attack. Not fun in the least.

Picture red plastic cup marked “phlegm” and me in blue medical mask, and endless hacking. Fever seems to have FINALLY subsided; at least I no longer ache in places I didn’t know existed. And the paranoid thoughts of being the very first person to die of the new viral outbreak, set to kill 10% of the population, have stopped. At least for the most part.

Still I’m left rib-bruised, out of breath, and wondering what happened during the month of September, beyond what I learned from season eight of Grey’s Anatomy and seasons one through eight (yes, eight seasons) of Everybody Loves Raymond.

The good news is I’m in love! Yes. I am. His name is Robert.

He is a fictional character on the show Everybody Loves Raymond, a very tall, insecure Italian who is just one giant adorable bear. Though I realize the episodes are over a decade old (and therefore Robert is in his fifties now), and that Robert is fictional, and thusly doesn’t really exist, I am in love nonetheless. He’s more attainable than the young wealthy god-like creature in the Shades of Grey series anyhow.

When I was having fever dreams, during the early stages of my illness, my dreams were related to the fictional character Robert, (or to dimensional time travel during the era of futuristic war-ridden earth). I didn’t dream of Robert. I dreamt his dreams. Yes, indeed, in my fever-state I believed I was Robert. After over 100 episodes I imagine our minds had molded together in someway. As Robert, I dreamt as Robert, and had dreams about his circumstances that befell him while on the show. Yes, I had fictional character anxiety dreams. Who would have thought that was even possible?

Dreaming I was Robert was far better than the jumping from one dimension to the next dimension dreams, to recruit and “save” people who would make good warriors back on earth for the alien battle we’d soon be fighting. There was a sophisticated screening mechanism for determining what individuals were suitable to be pretty much kidnapped from their dimension and brought back to ours. Basically, if your life sucked, and probably would continue to suck, or lead to early death, or harm to others, we stole you. Nice mind I have. Don’t you think?

So that’s what I do when I’m sick: Watch lots of television, obsess about all the feasible ways of expiring, kidnap people in other dimensions, and fall in love with fictional characters. Probably not too far off the mainstream. That and write poetry—when the head’s not pounding and I’m not catching phlegm in a cup.

~~~~~

Love Leaves

I shall not tread

Into thy dark night

A cornucopia of lost cause

Landscape stripped barren

By voice of horned trumpet

Melody suffocated by circumstance

Mind bled out by tourniquet expired

Whistle blown at ruptured drum

Bleakness wrapped as toy for infant

Revealed broken, rusted blade

When torn

Open, his tangled mane made web of longing

Prepped and fondued to tempt desire

Lion’s thirst, a churning ache

Thick swallowed whole

Harbored

A chest plate of veins, pulsing blue

Tulips turned stone

Roots in mire

Crushed sweet

Gone

Sour echo vines and chokes

Stiffens in eradication

Layers thick upon cake of earth

Stomped brittle leaves remain

Rocked forth

In cradle of you

~ Sam Craft, Sept. 2012

~~~~~

 

Love Enters

Love enters

Starlit glow aflame

Beauty infinite

Whispers honey

Recognition formed

Beyond womb

Of mother’s promise

As feather set upon chariot wind

I move within your substance

The sound of songbirds assembles

Lullaby of cherubs

And silence

He knows not

How to exist

When I am filled

With your beckoning

~ Sam Craft, Sept 2012

 

 

And this video Explains Exactly How I felt during my illness

Day 223: Harbored Ghosts

| Aspergers Girls

Goodnight sweet one, she thought

Her lips chapped from late night pillow kisses

Where animals were made from clouds

And dolls set out for tea with biscuits plenty

Her imagination a filter for her dreams

Of where he rides, his mane dark and tangled

A harvest moon in view

Come home, back to this tattered princess

She speaks within, her heart a megaphone

Her eyes the window to the falling sky

Lonely weeps the silence

Where ruptured hope intermingles

With dispersed confusion

Mistress she be, to wallowing shadows of wants

Mistress she be, to the armor that sheds and reforms

Sticking to shape like skin to snake

Until the echo of stifled screams burst out from inside

And harbored ghosts with metallic breath

Set sail as residential spirits

‘Cross the oceans of another

And she is made to float naked in solitude

As baptized infant reborn to innocence

~ Sam Craft, August. 2012

Day 221: Smile

| Aspergers Girls

Smile.

Smile for as long as you can.

Smile like you have a little secret.

Smile with your eyes.

Smile with your lips.

Let your whole body smile an I-just-baked-you-a-cake smile.

Puff up your cheeks and curl your nose.

Add some sparkle and sunshine.

Smile through the weather and circumstance.

When another approaches, think: You are beautiful.

And hear: You are love. You are love. You are love.

Let the outside fade away.

See only light.

See a light that lives the best way light can live.

Smile.

Smile because inside you are peace and knowing.

Smile because you have released.

Smile because you are truth.

Smile at the miracles.

Smile for opportunity.

Smile and smile again.

Imagine the smile the lungs of the collective souls.

Smile so we can breathe.

~ Sam Craft, August 2012

I can now smile a full hour straight while walking in public! Can you?

Day 214: Because I Am

| Aspergers Girls

I know who I am.

I have self-awareness. I see myself clearly. I accept myself.

I understand myself, as wild as I might be.

I know I am “good.”

I know I am light.

I know I have a purpose and a drive. I have a calling. I know my calling. And I follow my calling.

I know the difference between authenticity and pretending.

I know genuineness and pureness of heart.

I know suffering, deep suffering; and because I know deep suffering, I know your deep suffering.

I understand your pain because I have been in pain. I understand your joy, because I have known grand joy.

I do not feel separate from you or different; I feel as you; both of us souls on a journey of discovery.

I am light and can only love what is inherent beauty.

I see the light in everyone. I see it everywhere. And this adds to my sadness as it adds to my joy.

I see people walking in spirit. I see past the flesh and past the games that are invented by the lonely, lost man. I see past the visions that others paint in front of them in an attempt to hide. I see beyond their fears and happenstance, their intentions, motivations, and at times intended and unintended manipulation.

I see into the heart of man; and if I have to suffer to see so, then I suffer.

My mind is a miracle, a glorious miracle, and my heart even grander.

I love who I am in every aspect.

I have faced my shadows. I have faced the demons, the voices, the hauntings of mind and ghosts.

I have dreamed of the future and watched it unfold, and in so doing, stood in awe of the universe.

I have experienced life in the deepest capacity, at the deepest levels. I have lived.

I have watched my wishes come true. I have treaded through the darkest of days and come out stronger and self-sufficient. I am supported by myself. I have a companion in my own being. And I am supported by the angels, or spirits, or whatever is beyond our capacity to sense.

I feel energy around me from everything and everyone. I understand others in a way many do not yet understand.

I am humble. I recognize the pride in me and face this pride and gently release. I am insecure and recognize this too, embracing my beauty further, so insecurity may have a place to rest.

I am not ashamed of any part of me. I can speak my mind fully, my thoughts fully, and not wonder if I am being true to me. I am always true to me.

I can openly say when I am scared or frightened.

I am in totality. I am me.

I will be the first to say sorry and have no regret in doing so. I will be the first to say I love you with no intention but to say the words.

I don’t follow a guidebook to feel real. I follow my own book. And I get to write the present each moment.

I am genuine in my intentions. I constantly seek to be truth, to speak truth, to resonate truth.

I do not hunger for fame or attention. I do not hunger for success or material gain. I only hunger for peace and serenity.

I am truly gifted. I am gifted in my ability to live each moment as if it were my very testimony of being. I am gifted in my continual thoughts to be the most beneficial being on this plane of existence that I can be. I am gifted because I have no curtain. There is nothing to pull back and see. Nothing I hide. Nothing to take, expose, or corrupt.

I am hiding no secrets. And without secrets, there is no weapon anyone can use against me.

I embrace love, peace and serenity, and nearby is the continual quest for growth. I am growing.

I am worthy simply because I am.

Day 212: Joy in the Morning

| Aspergers Girls

Joy in the Morning

I kiss joy in the morning as thoughts of you bow down in gentle gratitude

And affection she dances lightly through the bedcovers, spreading rose petals, red above

How sweetness falls upon the day, fresh crimson, rainbows soft

And handsome tiptoes through merriment, his puckered lips smiling

Beauty she blushes, and gathers love in baskets woven by the twinkle of dawn’s amber eyes

Feathered pillow springs forward and welcomes tickles from hope, chuckle laughs wearing a shy pink

And bold blanket, he harnesses the voluptuous dream of the night, his treasure to marry

The floor becomes ocean and reins in a guild of seahorses made to roar with indigo passion

Folded in dreamland, bed castle winks and mattress plays cymbals in orchestra duvet

Strong faith appears, in this space between, where wishes wear sparkling ruby crowns

Tomorrow, she laughs and splashes butterscotch clouds at strawberry-popcorn glee

While always and forever tango close beside the groom of starlit night and bride of chamber music

Come find me here, beneath the giggling moonbeams and peek-a-boo painted bed sheets

Come find joy, before reason slips beyond the kaleidoscope guard and sleeping disbelief awakes

~ Samantha Craft, August 2012

Photos and Words by Samantha Craft. All rights reserved.