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Today I was told I had the opportunity to get a tattoo very soon. I have wanted one for quite some time but have not gotten one for several reasons. Some of the reasons include: being afraid of the pain I would have to endure, not knowing what permanent piece of artwork I would want adorning my body for the rest of my years, and of course…I never had the money.

However, when I was told of this new opportunity I jumped right away to thinking up ideas, asking online and offline friends where the least painful area would be to get a tattoo, talking to people about it, et cetera. It was only until I started my lonely 4 ½ hour shift in the Garden Center did I realize I am not ready for one.

It is not that I do not think I cannot endure the pain or anything. It is that I am so different from day to day that I don’t know what type of tattoo I could get that would make me happy every time I see it. Some days I wake up feeling like I had a shot of testosterone put into me during my sleep, other days I wish I had purple hair and black Victorian dresses to wear or I feel like I want to wear a garland of flowers and dance barefoot in the grass. Occasionally I feel like I have some sort of multiple personality disorder though I do not. This issue makes it hard to choose a tattoo.

I feel like I have an ever-changing self concept that seems to move in a circle and each day sliding me into a new slot. So what if I got a tattoo of a Moth with an old woodcut feel like I wanted earlier today? Would my occasionally hippie self like that? Or if I got a Tudor Rose would my occasional tomboy-ISH self enjoy having a huge flower on my body? Or even a scene from old plague woodcuts with dancing skeletons? If I felt feminine one of these days and wanted to wear a nice top would I be embarrassed of a row of skeletons dancing between my shoulders?

It has always been hard for me to express what I am thinking and these thoughts I am having right now are not any different. I just don’t know what sort of tattoo I would get that would make me happy forever-more. And for that reason I am going to continue my wait for the perfect tattoo. Or never get one at all even!


This Worldly Skin

I was listening to parts of the new Shpongle album with a friend recently and was inspired to write a poem after I listened to one their songs. The image of a seam ripper pulling out messed up seams up and down my arms and all over my body rolled into my head after hearing what I think was “reality is ripping at the seams” (I think I might have messed that up but to lazy to look it up). Nice imagination eh? Teehee. Jk. I tried to write a poem based on what I was thinking but it didn’t turn out like I wanted…I shall just have to try again! But here it is anywhoo…

For some reason I think I am misusing the word "worldly" but my mind wouldn't let me put anything else..ah well.

This Worldly Skin
By Karina Young
11 November 2009

There is a worldly skin that holds me in
Sewn in so tightly it is hard to breathe
I struggle against it but there is no use
Fighting against what seems so indestructible
They left me here thinking
There is only one way to the release I seek
I will not take it
I do not crave my end
I just want deliverance from this suffocating mask
Enlightened by the sound of sweet voice
I raise up my liberating tool from the dresser
Scissors bright and sharp to race across my flesh
Tearing open the seams that hold my shell together
Each little thread is slashed open one by one
My soul begins to sigh with relief
As I am torn apart for my recyclable scraps
Like an old worn jacket that has seen better days
When the last thread is cut
My spirit explodes with energy
This is the moment I have been seeking
This salvation I have finally won.


The other day I was working in the garden center at my work. Like I usually do once the opener leaves I start cleaning and going about my business, never failing to sink into my own little world. I try to keep aware of the people coming in and out when I do this. Usually when I get interrupted by a guest during my sweeping or pruning I rush over to the register (once I am done helping them of course) and scribble down thoughts, ideas, etc onto the journal paper we print receipts on.

WELL the other day I kept having this thought run across my mind:

“Everything and everyone has a purpose. Even if we are just food for birds or our bodies create silk more precious than gold.”

Weird how “stuff” like that can pop up. When I think something like this I usually stop and think if I jacked it from a song or another I individuals quote/text/etc unknowingly.


I think (or used to think?) we all have a purpose and that even our smallest actions affect the world somehow. But lately I have been wondering if some of us are here to just be “fillers.” To fill in the little blanks in the lives of those who really matter. Wouldn’t that be awful? That your soul purpose could be that you just needed to be the filler in someone else’s life so that THEY can go on to greatness, etc. But it could be true right? Or maybe just being a filler is exactly like the idea I first brought up about our small actions having a huge effect on the world (or something similar…gah).

This probably is not making sense in the way that I am trying to make it MAKE SENSE. Not even sure if it really corresponds correctly with the little quote magigger I was thinking about in the garden center.

Gaaaaahhhhhhh…I hate thinking about stuff when I can’t get it straight but the thoughts won’t leave me alone. :[

Forest Born (poem...again)

This needs help. I can totally feel how it snags in some places. Just wrote it this second and too tired to go through it again. Til later then!

Forest Born

By Karina Young

16 October 2009

I went to the forest

To find my soul once more

There I found a doorway

Leading to the woods core

I opened it wide and stepped right in

There I found the roots

Of my otherworld kin

They rose up and grabbed me

Stuck their hands inside my flesh

Made my blood finally flow free

Right onto the soil my life poured out

And from there I was born again

As if there was any doubt

Naked and twisting from the earth I came

Nothing could stop me now

There was no blocking shame

Renewed and reborn

Cleansed of all feeling

Of hatred and scorn

I came back to my home

With eyes wide and knowing

Never blindly will I again roam.

Roadblock (poem)

By Karina Young
15 October 2009

It’s a roadblock to my peace of mind
Taking a side street instead of the main path
Off the track I am trying to pull myself back to
Going crazy trying to keep the road clear
Trying to please the world
So I won’t be left in the darkness of the forest
As the world continues on
I can barely see you
Barely feel your presence sweet world
Slipping more away from me
Every time a lovely fae
Sticks her hands out to guide you
Into her magical dwelling
They snicker in my ear
As they throw more debris on the trail
Making me stumble
I claw at my face as my frustration bursts open
Clearing the woods as it echoes through
They can all hear me
But sweet world
Why can’t you?

Dream Trail (poem and more)

I had a dream where I felt like I was becoming an animal. I felt like all my senses were elevated and that I was turning into a sort of werewolf type thing. Not some hairy beast that transforms under the full moon. More like I should have claws or something. I also felt like I should be moving with more grace and like an animal hunting prey. Unfortunately for my friend he was the only being on the trail that was in plain site. So I stalked him like he was a dang bunny and I was a wolf! Unfortunately (again...haha), I never "transformed" and still felt a huge restraint despite the animal-like feelings I was having. But I did feel more in touch with my basic instincts (if my basic instincts wanted me to tear my friend apart in a blood lust). It was odd because I didn't want him to die. I wasn't feeling any hatred toward him or anything. It was as if I needed to feed off something from him so that HE could become what I had become (and what I had become gave me a whole new sense of freedom). Weird eh? There was more to it but dreams are not always so easy to translate from the pictures in ones mind.

Dream Trail
By Karina Young
14 October 2009

In a dream I find myself walking along a trail
Stepping on and over rocks and stones
Trying to keep the bushes from pulling at me
As if their touch would want to hurt me
I keep to a path that leads to nowhere
Following you like a cub
We walk and I begin to notice a change
Feeling it tingle through my body
Like I am picking up a calling
From the world around me
The emotions rise
Till the band strapping down my mind
Snaps and falls uselessly to the ground
I have been shaken out of my slumber
Now able to see what my eyes before could not pick out
Able to hear what I formally ignored
Annoyance starts to build
As I attempt to filter through these new sensations
Something new forming inside me
The need to come back inside myself
Then return whole and raw and new
My Otherworld protectors fall in at my sides
Urging me to go farther
To give in
Nothing has felt so right
Once the transformation is complete
I see you once more
And like the perfect prey you don’t realize
You are now in my trap
That you are now part of the hunt
I keep behind you and watch you
As you move ahead of me
Almost like you know what is to come
Feeling me about to pounce
Then tearing at your back with my newborn claws
Taking you down and consuming your weaknesses
So that from your remains I can bring you back again
Whole and raw and new
Transformed on the Dream Trail
To what we were meant to be.

Fever (poem)

I love when stuff makes your head spin in another direction. This kinda came just from me feeling kinda ick and sweaty and turned into thinking of sweat as cleansing and then...POOF! This:

By Karina Young
14 October 2009

I can feel the world I once knew pulling out of me
Surging out of my pores in millions of droplets
Purifying me as they wash over my body
Shedding more of my old fears
Every time I wipe the sweat from my skin
It feels like it is never going to end
Almost as if the sickness is so much a part of me
That the fever running through me
Won’t stop till I have wasted away.


Lately I have been feeling to urge to write a lot. Most of the time it doesn't even make sense to me...which doesn't help. ;] This one was inspired while on the bus and watching a field next to the road we were on. eh.

By Karina Young
2 October 2009

Lost in the weeds
Trying to get out
Run home
When I run the weeds
Tear at me
Grabbing my flesh
Biting me
Drawing blood
With every step
Bound I make
They take hold
So I stop
And stay still
Breathing heavy
As my eyes dart around
Frantically searching
For an exit
Like an animal
I remain unscathed
When I stay still
But I must get out
I can endure it
The claws of the weeds
Trying to pull me back in
Still lost
Yet still searching
I move to find the
Edge of THIS field
Moving to find
My way home
Even if the weeds
Take a part of me
With them
They cannot take
All of me.

Lying to myself

Everyone wants to love and be loved. But I personally can't see my self totally giving in to another human being. I probably will someday and that MIGHT be nice. But I have some trust issues I need to smash into smithereens first.....etc....

ahem...and please don't think I am depressed or anything with this poem. I was on the bus and I jotted it down. I should really go through and edit the damn thing. :]

Just saying...in case Mama reads this and starts asking me if anything is wrong...hahaha

Lying to Myself

By Karina Young

30 September 2009

I don’t want to be loved

I want to hurt

To feel sadness

To long for any thing

I cannot have

To know I am alive

By my rush of

Wild mental states

But living in that

One mode of utter bliss

That I am supposed to want

Isn’t living

One emotions rule

Over the mind

Over the body

Over the soul

Is a straight jacket

A dusty prison cell

So why do I want it

Why relinquish living

Why leave the sadness

The loneliness

The anger

The hate

Out of it

Why yearn to be told

That I am beautiful

What is this desire

To abandon my insecurities

And live in the arms

Of someone who will

Never know them

This rush of emotion

Just one emotion

Why do I want it

I cannot understand

And what I really

Cannot understand is

Why won’t it die

Leaving me free

and my anger

my sadness

my loneliness

my all

Still uncaring?

Close your eyes

Close your eyes
By Karina Young
28 September 2009

I try to open my eyes
To see this new world
I am living in
But it is too wild
Too blurred
Moving too fast
Moving too slow
Moving in a way
I cannot bear to watch
So I close my eyes
And there waiting for me
Are wondrous things
Things that my mind
Could never translate
Into words
This world is real
I tell my self
I can feel the heaviness
Surrounding me
The feeling that I
Am actually THERE
In the world
And not just a
Feather-light and lifeless soul
Drifting through
Every movement takes
Patience and determination
Even extending my arm
Takes attention and will
So glorious
So good
So drunk on this world
I am
Till it starts to fade
And reality comes
Like heavy black drapes
A hundred yards of it
Slipping over my body
Enveloping me darkness
And forcing me to
Open my eyes and
Find a way OUT
Now my eyes are open
The world is moving again
In a way I cannot bear to watch.