Ghost lives in ghost houses

Sleep has become my favorite thing. That oblivion where reality no longer holds sway and I can make choices which have real and lasting impact. Where I am no longer bound by the rules of conventionality and can, finally, make the choices that matter most to me.

I used to read. Novel after novel. Several a week. I used to play PC games for hours and get lost in being the chooser. Master of my own destiny. Even if that destiny was to find soda cans and fight giant radioactive scorpions.

I feel like my world has narrowed down to wanting some future I am uncertain of. To saving money so that I can be alive at some future date.

When I was younger, I was completely certain of my expiration date. That the lifestyle I had chosen and the way I had chosen to be would most assuredly result in my life being over by the time I was thirty-five. So I squeezed life from every day. And lived in the hollow agony of some of those choices.
In the stillness, as if the world itself was hushed, waiting for my next choice. In the terrorizing beauty of living as if tomorrow was, at best, a distant horizon. Both inevitable and irrelevant.

Some of this is the waiting for a future. Some of this is the sheer uncertainty of life. Knowing that I’m, at most, one bad month from terrible consequences. Of losing everything I have gained.

And maybe that is the crux. I have something other than my life to lose. And truthfully I never put much value on that. So in oblivion I was free.

And so I sleep. And make money and work at making money. And play games to make money. Because, our world requires, it. Money for security. Money for freedom. Money for choices. Money for shelter. Money for food. Money for medicine. Money to help others. Money and money and money.

Trapped by the choices past me made. Living in the moment. As if tomorrow didn’t matter. Present me wants to yell at past me and say, “You idiot! You survive. With a few simple choices, you can make your future easy. A few less things now will secure a future that you cannot imagine. The one where you aren’t trapped. Where your cage is balsa and you can break it at any time.”

But I can’t do that. So I try to do that in the wreckage of past me. Try to shed the habits of spending money to make my day suck less. Try to invest and save. Try to pay off this shrinking mountain of debt.
And lament that my art. And my choices, all come down to money. Trading minutes of my life in exchange for the ability to live another day in the hopes that tomorrow I’ll be free.

The world is backwards and we have only ourselves to blame.

Pawns of a waking dream

There was a time when I thought I could teach the world what it could be
Thought that shaping words and connecting thoughtss
Invoking emotions and making manifest not just desire but forming reality to will
Would somehow resonate and works its way beyond my borders
Would transform those it touched and somehow reshape a world dying

As days and years passed
I gave up on those thoughts that bloomed as a redolent flower which strutted and strived
Glitzy and hollow
Grip slowly relinquished as new life broke the mold of what was making me into what would be
And in the chrysalis of new beginning
A blow to the heart set me spinning away from one path as time and history rewrote itself
And I
At junction
At crux
Was cast out
Flotsam on the river of causality
Chrysalis hardens to shell
And denied outward growth
The only way out became down
Deep through pain and loathing
Into depression which had always nibbled at the edges
And now gloried in being centerpiece for a captive audience
Deeper
Core out each piece
And discern crystal or flaw
Raw and wriggling
Pink remora leaving behind fresh wounds but dying alone on the cold pavement
Each passing year a broken memory until tattered cataclysm in shredded throat torn again and again
feeling as blood and pressured release
Scream frequency finding harmonic resonance
In shell long past useful
And burst outward infecting
Killing what it touched
And still a bit remained
A blade sheathed beneath bone
A weapon of times long gone
Master no more and wielded wild-eyed
Agony as all walls fall and what was out caresses newly formed akin
Until pleasure and pain are just two ways of speaking and both hold no discernable sway over the other
Instead, both in their firmament
Gods bestride a world of flesh
And I mistress and master
Betrayed broken and each broken rib pierced breath
Imperceptibly easier

Until anew
A person looks out
Wondering at a world they didn’t live through
A time traveler taking the longest route through blindness to arrive in a fight that cannot be one
With coping skills that say to take a simple action
One that heart and eyes know will be unforgivable but effective
Begging anyone willing to give permission for the monster inside
Blade buried in bone
To be let free
Afraid to be allowed to be
And watching as it all burns
Silence let’s go its grip
A wave forms seeking cross and disruption
Seeking amplitude match
And growth
Seeking
Voice to voice
Until all of us
Throats raw and bleeding
In notes crystalline from cores of reflected shatters
Speak
Sleepers
Wake!

I missed a post.

It occurs to me that I missed a post on Monday. For the first time in more than 3 years…

On the one hand, I can justify it by saying that yesterday was a crazy day and I stopped at the end and just passed out.

On the other, I have to decide if that is just a bullshit excuse. If being tired and busy excuses a failure of honor. Of a promise made.

And I have to say, it does not.

That may seem harsh. That lapses occur and that things sometimes fall apart.

But

The reality is that I thought several times yesterday of writing or posting something and I chose not to.

We make time for the things that matter to us.
Fundamentally, that is what this is.
While my writing matters, it is the interaction with others that I miss. And my page has become a ghost town of likes thrown out like flowers. And I sit by the passing parade, alone.

I’m more connected now than I have ever been and yet I feel so alone. I feel like I’m just getting my feet as those that I love are moving into new phases. And leaving me behind.

And I feel no jealousy for them…but I do feel this dull ache of everything changing and being lost in the background.

A fallen leaf, once part of the community, drifting down, away from succor into the dying light of autumn.

Evolution by jerks

How can blindness be a choice? To disregard reality in favor of the half truth happy and defend that position. Never seeing others experiences, never seeing others. Living in that echo chamber. Fed scraps of food coated and spun into full meals. Mostly consisting of false nutritional content. Selective memory of the shining past. Like it was a wonder of enlightenment instead of the brutish truth.

We are flawed liars. Picking only those truth which most suit our narrative. Resisting any deviation from the TRUTH. As if truth did not slither and shift as new facts are gained. As if, from minute to minute, reality itself didn’t change.

People quote, “The only constant is change,” while forcing their eyes closed and covering their ears.
And when confronted with a different opinion, stamp their feet and throw a tantrum.

A world full of people unwilling to see. Unwilling to hear. Unless forced to. How do we survive our own willful ignorance? I’m not sure that we will.

When life precludes poetry-lament and rant

I hate that everything present me wants is predicated on the plans past me was able execute and stick with.

That what I’m working towards could crest the horizon but because I started fixing my situation late, or stopped fixing it due to circumstances, or sort of half way did it while in other areas continued to work towards the goal without surcease, because of that, I might not be one hundred percent ready

And doesn’t that just kick my anxiety into high gear?
What can be done?

Stop half assing it. Start what I can. Hope that it’s enough. Best I can do.

Through a pane of sea glass

I had a dream that I had joined a friend of mine over at the apartment of a friend of theirs. His wife was out of town and he wanted to catch up with this friend. And, to be clear, the wife knew and the friend was a woman. Anyway, we were all playing video-games and then we went to sleep. I woke up around midnight to do some work and when I finished I passed saw his friend making something in the kitchen, toast maybe. In a dream jump cut, we are real close and then we are holding each other. Then kissing, and she’s better at it than me and a corner of my brain starts taking notes.

Then another jump cut and we are all dressed after carnally satisfying each other. She’s stoic. Had been from the beginning except when we touched, when we were together. And I’m leaving for work while my friend is just waking, none the wiser.

Tentatively, with full intention, I say “I’ll call you.”
Her faces lights up and says call me on Thursday(in the dream it’s Tuesday) and I leave humming, happy and remembering, knowing somehow that I am found and seen.

The dream changes then, and I am someone else.

This may be hubris or futile

I don’t know if this applies to anyone reading this
Or if I even have the right
But I’m in a position to say it so it’s my responsibility
If he or she(they, etc) harms you, you have my permission and my hope that you leave.
That you go and find someplace safe. That you seek out what help is available and you go.

I know it’s not my place or even if it will do any good but know that you are better than the person inflicting you with trauma and you, in no way, deserve whatever harm is occurring.
You deserve a life free from fear, free from harm.
No one has the right to harm you. No one has the right to physical or mentally torture you.

If you are waiting for someone to say, leave. To be given instruction to go. Then this is it. Go. Leave and never go back.

When dreams teach(lucid dreams are weird)

At first the dream was like playing a video game. Like a really immersive rpg. I was rolling through completing objectives when I came to a fire level and I cast a ultra powerful blizzard spell which froze the entire world. This was all taken from bits and pieces of my last couple of days. For instance, the blizzard was something I saw on a TV show.

This is where it takes a turn, but still(I’m reading a detective story) consistent. I’m now a sheriff in a small town in the middle of a blizzard but I can still cast spells.

I think all of this is just framework until she steps into frame. I can’t describe her because she’s always been there, if that makes sense. We are working on a case and at some point we begin joking and we are forced to go on the run. But before that I mention burial rituals of South American indigenous people having similarities to what we were doing (burying her uncle so that he mummified, I don’t know…dreams) and she looks at me, like really looks and I see her and only her and I exist. We walk off the dig site and it is several months later and we are in a mall or gallery? There are kiosks but also it’s a college campus? Anyway, she pulls me into a kiss then asks who this woman down the way is who is looking at us in horror and tears.
I turn around and it’s an ex of mine. Actually someone I had almost married. (all of which knowledge seems to burst into my mind, having not known it before the moment I needed to)

I say that’s my ex, and I’m kinda pissed because the way she’s acting it’s like I betrayed her when she’s the one who left me. I say, She dumped me pretty quickly when she found out that I don’t want kids.

And I looks at this woman I’m now dating and I see the disappointment in her eyes. Then there is shooting and we are running again and I’m explaining while we run my reasons and she says, can we just put that discussion on pause until the crisis is over? We will figure it out together.
All the while I’m babbling that I might change my mind but I’ve never heard an argument which would counter my own beliefs and she looks at me with a wicked smile and says no worries, I already have kids and I was just worried you would reject me because of that, and I’m baffled because, the answer is of course that doesn’t bother me.

And it just clicked, like duh, this is what is needed. Someone willing to fight for us, who wants to explore and learn and change. Not someone who leaves at the first sign of trouble. Someone willing and wanting to have these discussions even though we are both vulnerable and maybe going to be hurt.

Then we hop in a gunship and flying out of there while under fire and I send someone whose been with us for awhile but in the background to man the .50 cal.

Then I wake up

The soft eternal lies of dreams, aching

I have this dream. Again and again. Where we are entwined naked. We are looking into each other’s eyes and you reach your hand between us and take my cock in your hand. I feel myself harden and grow with your simple touch. You guide my cock slowly into your soft wetness. Slowly, I disappear agonizing and slow. I feel you around me. I dip my head down and press my lips to yours. The touch wakes our need and we devour each other. Tongues sliding over and tasting each other. We exist in these slow agonizing moments of pleasure. My heart, my love, my girl. Until I wake, warm bed. Lost and alone. There is only memories and hopes. Adrift in the world. Looking for that perfect moment of connection. When we are fierce and unafraid. When our only thought is each other. When we belong in the moment. To each other.