The only thing I know for sure is my aching grinding hungry emptiness, and I know they will never come and rescue me. I know I am the garbage, they have forgotten me, unneeded, unheeded... they don't know I'm out here hungry, starving, cold. They will never come and fill my need. Endlessly empty. Rage builds and builds and builds. Need turns inward and we begin to eat ourself. Gnawing on our own flesh, raging inwardly... madness and laughing and cackling and wild-eyed, feeling like a bloated poisonous spider... "Don't you come near me or I'll grab you and fuck you and EAT you !!!"

We see... Him, and Her, and She feels familiar yet foreign, and we instantly hate her.

She is stirring calling to Him and reaching out toward Him with desire feelings and need and longing ...

Her need disturbs us, their nearness is painhopehungerrage, but for a long time nothing happens. The need, the tension stretches on and on and on... our own need stirs and builds to critical mass... Rage and need and hunger together, and something explodes and gives us movement, and we feel ourselves whooshing down on Her from behind.

She reaches, but we push the reaching, we shove it forward, we give it strength and power and HATE. She doesn't know, she doesn't feel me there, greedy, hungry, starving ... give it to me, give it to me now I'm so hungry, give it to me I'll grab it and take it and squeeze you and hold you and never let go and eat you!!!!!

When the smack comes we take it together, and some parts of us go flying out into the darkness again, aloneness and hunger reinforced... Some parts of us are melded together with Her, but all, all are damaged and burnt and dead...

Even though I still hate Her, even though I envy Her, I never wanted her to suffer like she is suffering.

My exile is just. I cause pain, I hold death. I curl in on myself, as much as I can. I WILL myself back to sleep, to stillness, to quiet forgetfulness.

I'm not part of all this activity in the godhead and creation, although in waking moments I am aware of things happening. Most of this stirs my rage, reminds me of heartbreak and hunger. I want to sleep, I don't want this activity in my dark space, it pokes and pricks my hunger and reminds me of a deep gnawing pain and despair. I hate them, I want them to go. And yet...

Sometimes I am drawn into the activity despite my rage and resistance. She wakes me up, She keeps stirring me, I feel her, no matter how deeply asleep I try to be, especially when they make love, I feel her desire drawing on my desire. I HATE her for this, I don't want to remember this hunger that will never be filled. I don't want to feel it over and over and over again, just GO AWAY!!!

Mostly they stay in one area. I try to move myself far away and down in the darkness, where they don't go, where their light won't disturb me. It's hard, I don't know how to move myself, I can't control it. But I manage to wiggle, somehow, to a far, deep corner. I turn away, so I don't see the lights, I cover my head so I don't hear the music, I ignore the piteous cries of other little parts that come drifting out into the darkness, drawn to me like always. I can't help it, I don't know why they are drawn, I can't stop it, and I can't feed them, I can't help them, their need is too painful to listen to.

I manage to sleep again, but in my deep sleep, I feel a strong stirring and a movement, I feel it pulling me upward against my will. I want to sleep. But the aroma, the movement, it feels like food. It feels like sweet and warm. Desire. Promise. Hunger stirs. Half asleep, I am drawn into something that looks like a shooting star. Or a meteor. I see it through half closed eyes, I wonder if this is a dream I'm dreaming, and because I'm not fully awake, my desire rises and blends with the meteor and feeds it. But I grow terrified too, the spinning feeling, the falling, it's going too fast, I can't, I can't, wait, but the deliciousness, and hunger, and I feed it with my desire and it goes faster and I can't stop it and .... some kind of explosion happens. The feeling is warm though, a bubble filling my belly and going --- POP --- blowing gently out and forming something. And I bury myself in and around the bubble that isn't a bubble and feel, for the first time - ever - the lack of falling.

I want to stay here. Solid, warm, comforting, embracing, home.

Can this be my home? Is this a product of MY womb, that I helped form? This beautiful warm green embracing delicious place? It feels like something I dreamed. I let myself feel a tiny tiny surge of hope. I fall asleep again, smelling the good sweet earth.

We live on and in the earth, parts of us and Her, blending and mixing and separating and remixing... for a time. When we are left there alone, I remember fire and rage. I remember being overwhelmed with rage and despair again. Self-hate looms large. We share many feelings, I realize, SHE and I. But there are things I hide from HER. Even from parts of HER that seem to know me, that seem to hold the same darkness inside, I can't show them the spiders, the worms within me. I try to forget they are there inside me, but when despair looms and I try to sleep, I feel them squirming. And sometimes I feel them poky, edgy, trying to get out and hurt parts of HER/us, they goad our rage, they turn it to fire, they feed our terror and send us screeching into madness.

While we are alone on the earth, I sometimes try to imagine being all together with Her, all our parts together, but I still hate Her, and I know if he ever returns, he will speak to her and not even see me, unless it is to desire my death. Parts of Her seem to align with me against Her, and all this confuses me. I don't have enough mind/consciousness to follow all these parts and alignings and betrayals and re-alignings and power building and fighting for position... I feel the feelings, but I can't make sense of it. The ebb and flow is all I can see, in a kind of misty flowy kind of way. I feel parts of our heart withdrawing from the fray, coming to stand with me like small lost children, wringing their hands and moaning. Heartbreak is their song, longing for wholeness, helplessness, wishing to be able to help... they are fracturing in their heartbreak, and I can't help them. I know parts of my rage are feeding this war too.

Later, when parts of Him return and there are many beings on the earth, we are fractured in so many ways I no longer know what is ME and what is Her at all. We look on Him through multiple eyes, desperately loving Him. We are mixed up and confused, and we forget many things. Some sticky-soft place buried deep within us that loves and longs for him, a desire we hide from ourselves because it is so horribly shameful and embarassing. We know our body is hideous. We have become filth and disease and grossness. What we feel inside becomes our form, and we don't know how to stop it or fix it! We can't change our form to entice him, he will never again caress or love, if he looks in this direction he will be sickened by what he sees. We feel much essence leaving. We feel heavier and heavier.

I identify ME then by the heaviness and self-hate. MY body is hideous. *I* am hideous. I remember that I am garbage. I had forgotten, in the mixing and the living and the interacting, I had forgotten but now I remember. MY body is our self-hate outpictured.