A dream that lives the man

I want to fill my head with noise
Just a cacophony of sound so I don’t have to think
Just a minute to stop
Not know
Not be
Just static
A mask for pain
Something to keep my eyes clear
No blurry vision
No cloudy pictures
Feeling alone feels like giving up

Get to know your own company they say
But you can’t turn and share a book with yourself
Can’t listen to a particular piece of music
Can’t sing a silly song you made up on the spot
Just because

Maybe I’ll be good at this on some future tomorrow
But I doubt it
I want too much
I want all
I’ve been the possible
I’ve seen the chances
How can I go back to the alone?
I’ve come too far to accept that

The too quiet morning

I recently told a friend that I anticipated that this September would be a bad one. Last year I was distracted by relationships, failed or otherwise. This year I, now, have no such distance. She said there was still time, that some relationship might start up. She was being kind, maybe a bit fearful of my state in the weeks that lead up to that dreadful anniversary. I find myself less than optimistic concerning the same thing. The possibility of anything seems so distant. And my efforts seem to not make a bit of difference. Like fighting a tiller in a storm, even though the seas seem calm. I just keep moving forward, swept along the current. Unable to find home or shore.

Song of the Day 

This song has been wandering in my head. But it’s not that I don’t want to die alone, it’s that I don’t want to live a life alone. Friends are great, but someone you love romanticly will always get a piece of yourself you don’t share with friends. So, even with friends, still living a life alone.  

Feeling alone with my desires

I believe that if you love someone, you tell them.
If you want to be with them, you tell them.
If you are with them, you dream of them.
If they walk by your side, you touch them.
You touch in joy, in desire, in happiness. You touch to reaffirm that you desire them. You touch in public. So called public displays of affection are just demonstrations that love should not be contained. And if someone doesn’t like it, well, fuck them.

I prefer my relationships to be shouted from the rooftops. I prefer that we love out loud and loudly at the same time. Little secrets are for little children. If you are mine, then You Are Mine. I love with fierce passion.

I don’t understand walking without touching. Without seeing them out of the corner of your eye and pushing them to the wall and kissing them. Or pulling them as close as possible until someone shouts “get a room”.

I want to whisper poetry and hear your voice and your words. I want you to fall asleep at my side and wake knowing that you are loved.

If you have a dark side, I’ll match you step for step.

Join me, dance with me, love with me. I’ll do my level best to not dissapoint.

Wind blown snow

She echos in my place of sanctuary
Looking out the window or curled on the couch
But for this ghost, the wind blown snow serves as isolation
The elemental howling, screaming through the creaking trees
Amidst the snap and pop of the hearthfire
Sitting on the couch reading aloud
Remembering you cuddled against me
Listening with rapt attention

Running out of titles

I am alone. And so poems and stories about lust make me feel connected. Like if someone thinks ‘hmm, that sounds lovely’ I am less alone. But I still wake, without someone in my arms. This is my fault of course. If I wanted to wake up beside someone, I could find a companion for the night. If I relaxed my criteria. If one night was all I wanted. I long for what I once had. But perhaps it was a once in a lifetime. Perhaps we were shooting stars racing to find which would flare out first. I’m tired of sifting sand, looking for the pearl. Perhaps I should reconcile to the fact that the type of person I desire will always be with someone else. They are too beautiful to not have found there hearts companion. I had my chance. It’s over.