Laying in bed, unable to sleep, alone

I sometimes think, “I’m just this mad thing. Bound up in desires impossible to realize. Trying to get others to see, to accept, impossible beauty, impossible desires, so that at some point I won’t be alone.”

Its weird to think this way, I think. Weird to hope this way. To jump then question the decision. To fall in love, then hope they are in love as well. All of these thoughts bouncing around in my brain and mostly I want a few minutes of silence. Or, if not silence, then to speak with my love. The person I love. About anything, everything.

That last is the most normal.
Which brings us to why do I care what seems normal. It’s simple. Confirmation bias. Artists and open minded types surround ourselves with similar people. So much so that mainstream ideas seem foreign. And because they do, we are less likely to engage in those areas. And as we pull away, we, ourselves, become foreign to people in the mainstream. This leads to a problem. Our audience for our art should be able to reach as many people as possible. Not because as many people as possible enjoying the work is the goal but because reach means that the people who need to read the piece or hear the poem are more likely to do so.

These are the places my mind goes when all I really want is to be with you. To hold you. To learn you. All the things we need to be successful in a relationship. See? Overthinking even in the face of my desire to simply be with the person I love

Sitting on the sidelines

You self identify as the thing that you hate because by embracing it you can make it a little bit yours even though it’s what is destroying you. You keep running on that treadmill needing to control something, anything, drowning in socially acceptable positive self image when what really needs to change is this situation where neglect of your needs and desires is the best you can hope for. But I can’t make the choice for you, I can only sit here telling you that you are valued for the things other than what you do for other people. That you are valued for your self and hope that some day you will listen and that this thought will work it’s way into you past your defenses that say you are not worth enough, not doing enough, not human enough to get the things you need without destroying yourself, that you must fit into the mold that they impress upon you to have value.

I’ve read your art and seen it and that glimmer in your eye is passion and unshed tears for this future you give up to fit. It’s never the right time, enough time, always busy, always in motion but never for the pieces of you that can break you free.

You’re fighting so hard to be this perfect thing that you are hurting who you are and it’s terrifying to watch and I’d make it all stop but you won’t let me. I’m happy you say with a smile that never reaches your eyes. I love him you say like a talisman you hold out in front of you. While his expectations and silence chip away at the pieces you try to slip past your walls.

Love does not destroy like that. To be sure it is destructive but it’s passage is marked by rebirth, by growth, by joy and waking. But you love him, you say. And I can’t keep pushing because each time I do you pull back a little more. I just want you to see what I see. To wake up. To see what everyone but you sees in your tone and words. Your discontent. Not wanting to be here but when you are there you aren’t comfortable either.

Watching your pain. But I am not allowed to act.

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February

Rivers
Blood soaked dreary memories stained
Tear soaked carpet
moaning
Pressure a thin reminder of rain soaked shirts clinging to skin
Hiding tears amidst storm
losing each other

Cold soaked bones
touch me
I am drowning
A foot away
a lifetime
choices I cannot make

That was then and now
alone
dealing with the aftermath
Purpose to sever
in cease
in ruin
to swallow the sun
Though twilight break
and souls damaged by the dreaming
dissolve into dust

This blood
drips from metal blade
drunk down by ground thirsty for life

Sipping the stream
cool water against the back of my throat
pain leeches away
Replaced by floating
in the static emptiness
consumed morsel by morsel
until
I am empty

Slinking towards the dawn cold
seeping into bones made brittle
etched by the passage of seconds
voice pulled out to shout in glorious triumph
lost amidst the grinding gears
winding down to infinity

You murmured and snuggled against me
a rare and precious moment of vulnerability
mine, yours, together?
a dream?

Lost in the drift
slit open blood spills out
please
…….
it’s much simpler than this slow leak of sand as hours and days pass without your words
your voice
despair insinuates in dulcet tones, “who would ever want you?”

Yet on waking effervescence weaves its way through
the darkness but a shadow of approaching future
small translation errors in perception

From which
Faltering thoughts connect to every desire
promises realized and hopes cede ground to reality until eyes burst
waking
my brain
the liar

A black sun swells on the horizon bringing heat
false darkness swallows everything
lost, unforgiving
paths and doors disappear
trapped bereft of choice

Cold filters past defenses
only the warmth of you is sufficient to stave off the numbness
the thought of us
locked in deep embrace
Followed step by step into desired future
or time and universe make mock
all slipping from our grasp
before eyes lock
before beginning removes doubt

Or cast aside concern
dance madness in reverie
spilling minutes
sing our joy
to a moon hung heavy with ecstasy
breathed in through each pore

A journey made present in blood and flesh
give me your hand
I’ll give you my heart
moving into the dawn or dusk
only us together matters

Distance or times illusion
dream us awake
more than a find
a fit
last remnants of darkness fading
in the unrelenting light
of a single deep blue eye

Poem by the day-February Raw

DAY 1
Rivers
Day 2
Blood soaked
Day 3
Dreary memories stained
Day 4
Tear soaked carpet, moaning
Day 5
Pressure a thin reminder of
Day 6
Rain soaked shirts clinging to skin
Day 7
Hiding tears amidst storm, losing each other
Day 8
Cold soaked bones, touch me, I am drowning
Day 9
A foot away, a lifetime, choices I cannot make
Day 10
That was then and now, alone, dealing with the aftermath
Day 11
Purpose to sever, in cease, in ruin, to swallow the sun
Day 12
Though twilight break and souls damaged by the dreaming, dissolve into dust
Day 13
This blood drips from metal blade, drunk down by ground thirsty for life
Day 14
Sipping, the stream cool water against the back of my throat, pain leeches away
Day 15
Replaced by floating in the static emptiness, consumed morsel by morsel until I am empty
Day 16
Slinking towards the dawn cold, seeping into bones made brittle, etched by the passage of seconds
Day 17
Voice pulled out to shout in glorious triumph, lost amidst the grinding gears, winding down to infinity
Day 18
You murmured and snuggled against me, a rare and precious moment of vulnerability, mine, yours, together, a dream?
Day 19
Lost in the drift, slit open blood spills out, please, it’s much simpler than this slow leak of sand
Day 20
As hours and days pass without your words, your voice, despair insinuates in dulcet tones, “who would ever want you?”
Day 21
Yet on waking effervescence weaves its way through, the darkness but a shadow of approaching future, small translation errors in perception
Day 22
Faltering thoughts connect to every desire, promises realized and hopes cede ground to reality until eyes burst, waking, my brain, the liar
Day 23
A black sun swells on the horizon bringing heat, false darkness swallows everything, lost, unforgiving, paths and doors disappear, trapped bereft of choice
Day 24
Cold filters past defenses, only the warmth of you is sufficient to stave off the numbness, the thought of us, locked in deep embrace,
Day 25
Followed step by step into desired future, or time and universe make mock, all slipping from our grasp, before eyes lock, before beginning removes doubt
Day 26
Or cast aside concern and dance madness in reverie, spilling minutes sing our joy to a moon hung heavy with ecstasy breathed in through each pore
Day 27
A journey made present in blood and flesh, give me your hand, I’ll give you my heart, moving into the dawn or dusk, only us together matters,
Day 28
Distance or times illusion, dream us awake, more than a find, a fit, last remnants of darkness fading in the unrelenting light of a single deep blue eye

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One true love

There are 2 types of people. People who have lost some they romantically loved and those that haven’t. Let me be explicit. A person who died, either by violence or not.

The people without this get to have the luxurious illusion of the one true love. That somehow they have the secret. That they have their forever, their true, love.

On the one hand I am envious of their illusion. It is a warm place. A safe place. On the other, I fear for them. What happens when the glass bubble shatters. What happens when they know loss. Do they, then begin to wither? For one thing to be true for so long has the danger of becoming truth. And Truth is hard to recover from.

Those of us who knew loss early, know that each love is different. Each love has its own existence, its own feel. And, sadly, there is no one true love. Each love is flawed and each love is perfection.

Tragedy wakes us to this. We know that the one true love thing is a myth. We know because it can’t possibly be true. And, for myself, why I hate anything that speaks of predestination or everything happening for a reason. Things happen because of chance or because someone took a course of action. Often, several someone’s. But there is no grand design moving us all to some predestined ideal. This is another illusion.

I’m not saying that there is not powerful, strong love. I’m saying that the one true love is a trap. A lie that comforts. Treat each person with dignity, respect, and affection. Treat them with desire, if you desire them. Act courageously. Love completely.

But don’t fall into the logical fallacy of ‘one true love’. It not only isn’t true. It must not be true.

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Ballroom Chapter 7 – Audio

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