There is a distance as warm lethargy drags me down. Cupped hands hold, eyes shielded from the light
Loud voices drift in
Talking nonsense loudly
As if to convince their last neurons of their spent future parody of truth
Mind fades
Dreams spin up
Nightmare into nightmare
Anxiety dreams
Wake on the hour
But at least I can sleep this time
Poems
Dry river remembrance
I’m broke down tear streaked cold nosed sleep deprived humanity
In other words normal end of weekend depression
Having to go to work to earn that money to live another two weeks and spend enough to feel just a little bit in control of my pain addled life
Each day begging for an end only to stumble through my door and collapse into bed asleep
Waking up way too early
To roll the dice on forlorn hope
Fucked up that chance is the only solution that I can think of
Broken bone words splintered in forgiveness without the chance to heal
Slow decay
I’d give up I think
But I’d rather be if at all possible
In your arms
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Pressure wound
Eyes drift heavy
Sweeping across
Laying sleeping
Fitful turning
Each breathe labored
Coming ragged and wet
Dismay pulls day
Helpless
Hoping the waking brings peace
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Stalks the morning
Cold seeps through cloth
The city hums and growls
Too quiet for want
Too tired to reach
Grasp hands
Settle into sleep
Carried into dream
By the stark need to be near
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Sipping bitter wine by the sea
Woke up with a head full of pain and a heart full of turns
Dream lives of lonely and thirst
Of hopes found in destruction
Of ghosts made younger and love made whole
Spinning plate capitalism
Faster and faster
Before the shatter
Before instability robs us of even the illusion of control
Sad goosebump shiver
Brain flairs in pain
Followed into truth
False pretenses build bridges
The memory of a memory which itself flares into pain
Last pleasure stolen
Fateful illusion won’t you hold my hand
For want of you I’m dying by inches
Itching for command
Knowing the only command I’d give won’t be followed
Leadership dilemma
And behind it all
That bone deep ache we learn to bury
And a craving for lemon cake
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All tomorrow’s become yesterday’s
It’s a new year
That’s what they say
A new year
Like the past is a slate wiped clean and what happened before can stop
Like the echoes that propel me forward have somehow lost momentum and I can just breathe for a second
A new year
What is that?
I remember a new year which I rang in party till dawn slightly tipsy remembered truths still wet on my lips
The year I started coming out
That night telling friends of friends and drinking and in the morning walking to my car and feeling that lightness of burdens dropped
A new year
Moments of perfect silence and perfect crystalline being that coincide with the calendars ending
A new year
Walking into the future as if each day weren’t a lifetime
As if each minute we choose not to speak, not to act, not to be weren’t themselves lifetimes drawn out as the moment glides past
As if yesterday wasn’t the future that I’m now living as if tomorrow weren’t the next beginning
A new year
Party if you wish and dance with yourself and bedamned to whether they are watching or not
Or snuggle in and hold them tight
Kiss softly, breathe deeply, love kindly
A new year
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Grey Sky rebirth
Cold belly ache haunts eyes left open for too long
Staring at the sun yearning for the fire which lurks so distant on the clear horizon
Translucent lips speaking words just beyond the reach of understanding
One more broken promise
Each phrase spoken as if by speaking oaths the world rearranges and makes truth
No effort but to place the burden of realization on others
No blame finds purchase because even the facade is fake and discarded lies pile up
Light a fire from your bones
You don’t need them
You’ve crawled already into a new husk
Taken up residence in someone else’s needs
Rotten promises smell sweet at first
The carapace hardens until the only option is to cut free
Blood dripping from knives made from your own flesh
Pieces left behind in the aftermath of rebirth
Shudder in the still quiet
Longing for warmth
Tantalizing promises
Of safety and heat
Better to freeze here free
than to squeeze self into shapes unnatural
To serve at the feet of a liar
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Six days to shed the dark
There is a song whose lyrics are ” l want you so badly my bones start to ache”. I’ve felt that destructive desire. That reckless, heedless rush of need which only cares for itself. It’s a fire that burns hot. Consuming all of the self in an effort to ignite the world. In a vain attempt to start a fire in the heart of another.
But I’ve been misremembering the lyris as “I love you so much my bones ache” because that is what the banked fire of love feels like when a smile or a word feeds oxygen to the flame and it ignites.
It’s like the singer was so close to the real. So close but so completely wrong. Love is a well tended flame. It doesn’t consume. It can’t. Instead it’s a nuclear reaction hitting the threshold needed for a sustained and steady force. Is it fire that can hurt? Fire that can burn? Does it hurt sometimes looking for a way to be expressed? Certainly. It’s the reaction at the heart of a star.
And like a star, it can last forever. I’ve found this to be a true thing. At least for me, and I am aware that I am…different. When I yield my control to love. Allow love past my defenses…past unbelief that I am worthy of love…past the pain of lost love…past dread of some future where the face of love wears disgust instead. When I do that, I love forever.
Like a runaway thermonuclear reaction.
Like a star.
I have burned many with that heat. There seems to be a limit to what most can stand. And yet somehow, love finds a way.
Maybe that matched fire is the only way. I’ve been looking for Earth’s when I needed a Sun.
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Even a broken voice can sing
Form dances in my heart
Each step twining us closer
How can you not hear our hearts beating
How can a smile cast out not be felt
As a palpable weight rushing along paths arcane to find its way to lips
Sitting in the quiet
Knowing we are found
Knowing at last
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Confused crow hops forward
Burned out, Burned through
Adrift without pain
Without skewers of flame scoring skin
Each day harder to wake
Each day harder to accept
Living after a hurricane
After tumultuous chaos with one new pain rising
Until silence and calm
Wishing to build something storm proof
Something grand
Hard to do with splintered wood
Hard to stop waiting for the storm to pass
To get up
To work on a future
Easier to give up and sink slowly into normal
Than to take the next step forward
Whatever that may be
