Author: Pelgris

Just need some distance

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Perhaps I prefer a layer of abstraction to my words because they feel like pins breaking through the veins
poking out at odd angles
painful but embarrassing
painful but then you’ll notice me and hiding is easier when it’s a storm and not me that’s crying

perhaps it’s easier because these words are only sometimes mine and other times are the unbroken scream that lives in my chest and stops just short of my throat because men don’t break down and cry
because everything has to be in control or she might not love me
because sleep eludes me and screams at 3am will bring sirens and questions

Perhaps I just need to be distant because weaing the razorblade straight jacket no longer fits
but its thin slices fit so easily into my scars
who would know the difference

perhaps I’m just tried and tired of being vulnerable and need that distance to lie to myself a little bit longer
a lie I’m not allowed to speak to others so I tell them to myself.

“I am loved” I say when I mean I want to die.
I am loved, when I mean why doesn’t she see me
I am loved when I mean Why can’t I just say what I mean?

Love is my lie, it keeps me going, keeps me moving

Hiding in the cracks of my own abstraction

Waking up in purgatory

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A ten by ten room
made of blood and bone
sinew taut and running rone
languid thought and slashing blade
hurricane disaster
a grip on the horizon
and the last drop of whisky
hard to loose oblivion
drunk on pleasure and serotonin withdrawal
awaking nightmare
found without rudder
without sail
adrift
welcoming the last storm

13 day spiral

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My head is a wasps nest
breaking apart and flying out terror
little reminders of times gone by
there are obvious things I’d say/have said/will say
but the other truths are the hardest
the ones that say I’ve failed her by not being the man who could be loved again
by not being the man she knew
I can’t get back to that person
he died with her
but now I can’t get to someone who can hold a lover
because I just don’t fit
not right
not now
a dull chant
No one wants to hear

15 days, dwindling

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I miss caring for someone and being cared for in return. I miss giving an order and having carried it out. I miss the joy on my their face when I say, “Good Girl.” I miss the life. The life as I learned it. The submission and compliance. Punishment and reward. Rules made to show care, to demonstrate love, to make each moment better. Never to hold back, always to foster growth. I miss these things, but mostly I miss being loved. I miss loving someone full bore with my slightly crazy heart and being loved in return by theirs.

I miss the lifestyle because it’s the only world I’ve known where love is the most important thing. Where communication rises to the level of my need. Where such is internally enforced by the cultural norms of the lifestyle. Maybe this is my experience because I’m the common denominator, I know that others have experienced abuse, that this lifestyle draws abusers and takers.

I’m not that. I have no way to convince you. You would need to trust me. I have no real point here. I’m 15 days out and I guess I just miss my Morgan. We weren’t perfect, but we had love. I miss her. I miss who I was with her. I miss…

Careworn teddy bear

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A chorus of notes
discordant
minor
slink down the burnt spine
collapsing each into each
screams
the burnt coffee
and stale cigarettes of simple dreams
forgotten in the casual haze
each choice bleeds to another
discarded
in the cold minutes
before sleep

Trace of limits

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To ascend as if a bird
foundering foundation falls away
only scant skin separates faith from fall
Drought as diamond
base desire wars with ascent
Solitude in flight
destination unknown
nazca lines embroider
faint markings
of a dwindling civilization
A filter on the self
Dwindling down to these few grains
Lost in the pleasure of being
Hold in arms grown weary
One last choice
Last chance

On the verge

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The heart catches
The stutter of a skipping beat
The memory blossoms
Reaping last vestiges
Hopes forgiven
Jealousies forgotten
As the light fades
As the quiet deepens
Last breathe
Before dawn

Just a thought 

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Not being able to fall out of love is a hell I’d not wish on anyone. It’s the state I find myself in. It fades but the smallest hint or hope brings it flooding back. The truth is, once I fall, I fall forever. Is it lucky or horrible that I can love multiple people completely? To live torn apart like this, when I am single and to fall again when not. Life is a cruelty. 

Held lightly and with consent

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I hate when my people are hurting
I know they aren’t mine mine, despite my desire, but I can’t help how I feel. I want them happy or at least content and I wish I could help other than by just being there. I wish I was allowed to. I wish I could sweep them into my arms and at least hold them. And make sure they know that they are loved. I’m not much for jokes so I can’t give laughter most days, but I can give safety and words of beauty. And actions of care, if I am allowed, though I rarely am.

To linger too long

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We all see it looming
The Herald of dawn’s breathe turning
The task undone
The words not spoke
Counterpoint, spoke too much
Our regrets pile on pile
Against Dwindling hopes
Until hope is lost
And only the dull rust of the blade
Thrust haphazard into flesh remains
As well to walk into the sun
Rise or Set
Head high
Choices made
Last turn of the wheel
Made by one’s own hand