The ritual of waking

The day begins in reluctance
In putting out of the mind all the things
All the things outside of control
And choose breakfast
My kind of breakfast
Crunchy peanut butter and Strawberry Jam on molasses toast
Downing water
Reading a book
Anything to not think about
Not take the next step
Because then it begins
The shower and the dressing
The shoes I never wear except in the public world
Drawing down my war personality
Pieces of me shutting off
Transition to a darker mien
Each step taking me from where I prefer
From safety
From the place where I grow
To the place where I am diminished
Because, in this world, what I am and what I do
Does not pay for food
For space to breathe
For shelter
Instead I subject myself to the whims of others
Without agency
Without choice except to live in poverty
It’s worse now
Before I was given responsibility
Before I was given trust
And before it was all taken away
Every day it gets worse
Every day I learn more
Maybe enough to leave
But
I’m just procrastinating
That first step to begin the day
To all of us in that same position
Declaiming, in lament, It is what it is
Remember
It is not
Will be
We still have choices
Even if we can’t yet see their horizons

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

Hard to build a future on the too live sea

I can’t let go; It’s a problem
Or it’s not; I don’t know
There are those won’t ever leave
Even if we’re never together
They are mine
Even if I’m not theirs

Does that mean that I’m too tethered to the past to move forward
I don’t think so
I hope not
Even though I ache with the thought of somehow moving out beyond their ability to call me back

These aren’t beautiful words or artful phrases
Just a baring of heart and soul
It’d be simpler if I could hide behind the lilt of wordplay
I just don’t have the energy to do so

When I love, I love complete, complex
And with gleeful discovery
And when I’m without
Never without love
Without partner
I don’t know
Sometimes I become stronger and more able to take the world on
And sometimes I’m just a small boat on a infinite ocean
Seaworthy but at any given moment, taking on water

I suppose I’m just a shifting sands dancer
And lately I’ve lost the song

Thin lines of blood crisscross the heart

Sometimes I wake up with all the pain of loss in my heart
My mind rushing to consciousness through a gauntlet of each person I’ve loved who have died or left or are so distant that any hope of us remains in the realm of dreams that never were

I wake in this tearing agony as if my dreams were filled with my loves and waking is the cutting blade ripping me open

I wake like this and go to work
Where people don’t know the wonderful people who I’ve carved myself up, open to
Where explaining even a tenth of what I feel would earn at best pity and most likely contempt

And as weary as I grow of this pain, those who care must read my torment and have nothing else to say. All the words have been said. All the sympathy given. And we are all left hollow and we are all stuck on the fringes of understanding. Each of us a world alone.

I stay away, awake as long as I can. The torment of staying away from sleep and the comforts of not thinking. Stay awake to keep from that moment of wake

Still, in dreams we are together. Different me’s, different you’s; watching their lives unfold
Happy that somewhere we are found
Until that moment when again, all is lost

A drop with wings unfurled is no guarantee of flight

Wind
Gentle lover
Caresses my skin
Cold dreams
Distant rumble
Frenzy clicks and clatters
Torn out by the root
I fly
Drift and tumble
Each ungentle touch breaking me
Moving me further
Each shift a step forward
Flight in the maelstrom
Glory
…….
Subsides
Discarded by the road
Having drifted
No further than sight
Of home

An I could not endure heaven, I thrived in hell

Hells offer us safety that heavens do not
Life is a ongoing study in the loss of innocence and joy as one peace or another is cut away or slowly ripped out of us. In a hell we know the parameters. There will be horror, there will be pain, there will be fear. And very occasionally, there will be rest. And we will find the steel to endure in those seconds and minutes of peace.

In a heaven, having experienced both loss and being self aware, there is always the wait for the moment when it is ripped away. For the loss of love, joy, and safety.

It becomes that we choose to endure the hell. Because the thought of one more lost heaven destroys us more thoroughly than this endurance of durance vile.

I cannot truly show you my pain, without first dying

If I knew how to talk about what I want maybe I’d be in a different place
If I knew what I was willing to sacrifice for what I want
Maybe I’d be there
I am sometimes afraid that, despite jumping off the cliff so many times, this last time is the one that I should have done
Safety and you
But leaving everything behind, trapped in the lense of my own making
I can only blame myself
Because who else can bare the burden
Stripped raw
Crying for no reason
I wonder at the wounds I’ve inflicted
Following my heart so often
Except, it seems, when it matters 

Fierce kittens, Claws and snuggle

She sits miles away from my touch
Though I see her smile
Hear her infectious laugh
A chortle combined with giggle
Melts me
Smiles erupt across my face
Approach to stand so close
Feel our mingled body heat
But a touch in this place
Must be surreptitious
My ache grows
Day by day
Even a simple brushing of the fingertips
I understand those upper class Victorian novels now
That pent up frustration of a held hand
Have I met you you say in bravado
Smoldering, I respond, I don’t know
Have I?
More and more each day I think
Endless delight
Even in the drop of parting

Nothing stops

The fecund stink of fresh turndown earth
Sweet summer grass spouts green stalks
The soft bud peaks in the still gray of dawn
Fresh air and the slice of cold wind
Lost amidst the summer waves
Soft wind
Warmth of day grows
Heat builds
Secrets whisper
Bones ache with tired
Brain fills with lies that sound like truth
Sleep the only refuge from hopes blade
But still
The heat envelopes
The night closes in
Stars breathe life to darkness
And the moon
Rises

Sparkles on the slippery slope

I’m starting to feel hopeful again.
Which means at some point I’ll stick my hand in the fire
Because that’s what I do
I leap before I know there is solid ground
Maybe that makes me brave
Maybe foolish
Probably both

But right now I have hope
No direction but hope
No horizon but hope
No safety but hope

Even though I know better
Even though I know how treacherous hope is
I feel myself light with it
I’m sure any day now
I’ll crash back to earth

What can I say?
I’m a fiend for cracking my chest open
And daring wonderful people to take a bite
A bit morbid
But hey, if you can match my darkness
We might have a chance