Take your vicious knives
open up my body
cut and slice
pack in salt
watch me writhe in agony
drink my blood
leave me weak
flay my flesh
leave me to bake in the desert sun
still alive
ants cut up and consume my body
At least with the pain, I know I’m still alive
Spilt anger smoulder down to ember
cool rain spills
healing, seething, boiling
rekindle blaze
breeze to bonfire
snuffed out to smoke
become the wind
embrace of winter’s love
flurries fall
crystalline coherence shatters
push up and struggle
take breathe
grow heavy and substantial
future’s hope spread light
safe in the eye of the storm
the world as it is not mine to give
so I’ll give you my self and make of it a world in which to live.
There’s choices beyond my control
And life takes us turning
But it’s all just this yearning
This burning
This foolish heart
I can never leave well enough alone. I always push, always want more than is there to be had. Some of that comes from a deep feeling that every person I truly care for is going to leave me. If they see the part of me they’ll hate, they’ll leave. Or instead, I choose to associate with people who don’t want me, or are taken in some way. Be it their own lives, their relational entanglements, or their mental state. And if, by some miracle, I find someone who likes me, I will push and push for more and more until they have no choice but to walk away or sacrifice their own sanity, which I’ll see and walk away to save them. I don’t know how to stop this. I think I’ve learned, each time and each time I fuck up. Now, the fuck ups are all a little different. But, they are variations on the theme. The happier I am, the more likely I am to self sabotage.
The other part comes from seeing myself as a monster. For the things I’ve done and the things I’m capable of. For who could love a monster, such as I. And if you could, why? Pity? Martyrdom? I won’t have love from either.
At the end of the day, I’m fucked up. And despite how much less fucked up I am now, as compared to when I started this journey, I still have a long road. A long road I fear I’ll never see the end of.
I have loved out of both want and need. Been with people out of both want and need. I want to be with you, you are interesting. I want to be with you, you make me laugh. People we want are fun. They are pleasant to be around and over time we can fall in love with them. This is a safe and rational way to live, to love.
Occasionally, rarely, you will encounter someone with whom the world just clicks. Colors are brighter, the things they say resonate, the world is better with them in it. This is need. They elevate you and hopefully you elevate them. This is passion and fire. Want is a sudden blaze then banked coals. Need can start slow, but it ignites like a nascent sun.
I’ve experienced both. Want is fine, and can work for a lifetime. But for circumstance, I would be with someone I wanted. Thought I needed before I experienced need.
Need is different, I don’t know if it’s better but each love is different in its way. Perhaps need is only another facet of love, perhaps a step closer to obsession.
Need consumes and one must be weary. Need can consume and destroy as well as its fire can be turned to creation. I don’t know what this need will lead to, but it is better than want. I have the stark contrast of my friendships whom I want vs the people I need.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I hear your voice…I love you
I see you smile…I love you
You retreat under your hoodie…I love you
You send me a picture of a baby Fenix fox…I love you
Your face lights up when you see me…I love you
You don’t think you want to hear it…I love you
You push me away…I love you
I can’t stop this…I love you
You are more amazing each day…I love you
We stop speaking each day…. I love you
I see your name… I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
Its been months, I just can’t stop.
I love you
Note: I regret posting this. Not because it is not true. But because I posted in a vulnerable moment without consideration of wider implications. I won’t pull it down. It scares me that it is up. I’m afraid of who will see it and what things they may conclude. So I’m afraid and as such it stays.
cut off from the world
In your cocoon of blankets
Snuggled down against the noise
I’ll crawl in beside you and hold you
Or
Touch the back of your neck and say, “I’m here,
Always”
I miss telling you how beautiful you are, not just because it’s true and I don’t think you believe it but because it’s the closest you would allow to me saying I love you.
My heart whispers to me, “wouldn’t it be amazing if she comes to us today and says ‘I know you have tickets to the Symphony, why didn’t you invite me’
to which we reply ‘You know why. I am in love with you and I can’t be around you without that knowledge. It would be disingenuous of me to ask you to go without you knowing that I want more than just friends. It’s painful to be around you on anything but that. Are you saying you want to explore whether you have or could fall for me?’
then she would say ‘I’m not sure’ uncertainly, and we would reply ‘
what are you not sure of? I can only promise what I did all those months ago. That I will do my level best to not hurt you. That I will always be honest with you. That I will do anything I can to help you in whatever endeavor you choose to give try to. ‘
and she will look at us with hope and say’ that’s what I want’.”
My brain looks at my heart for a long minute as my heart smiles and fidgets with nervous energy. My brain says “Gods love you, that is a beautiful scenario you have there. But you Must know, it’s not going to happen. She doesn’t have the courage to come to us under those circumstances, and she has made it clear as mud that she’s not interested in us in that way.” My heart replies, earnestly, “But it could happen.” To which my brain just shakes his head.
And this is why I wake and my heart hurts. Because it cannot let her go and I love here enough to forgive and move on past nearly anything. It gets easier to bear the pain of not being with her. Of not talking daily, of not being what we were and what we could be. The pain becomes just a part of my daily burden. But my heart still hopes. It is a fool. I’m a fool for having some part of me that thinks this might happen. But that part is beautiful, even if he is a fool.
I talk about love arguably more than I talk about sex. I suppose it’s because when I’m in love and I’m in the relationship, there will be sex. The sex will be good, will be interesting. I take it as a given. I will do my best to make it so and I have the skills to make it so. And I’m always learning more about everything, including sex. Anatomy, what works, what doesn’t. I guess I just assume, and the more I read and listen I learn that is not most people’s experience. At least, even if I am not in a relationship, I know that my lovers had a good time during sex.
Pelgris 