pain

Weird dream

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Had a dream where it was new years at the house locale and for some reason I was setting up a TV and stereo speakers. I was all set but my older sister was moving in with me for some reason and she thought she had a better way. So I said Ok and let her try. She set it all up but the sound was coming out tinny. So, while she was off doing something, I setup the system back to working. The dream shifted and I was in a armies camp on the move. I was with someone I cared about, whose opinion I cared for. And I remember looking at my foot and seeing it discolored and they saw the discoloration and were disgusted. So I began peeling the skin off and removing the nails. It was about a 2 or 3 on my pain scale. Putting it in perspective, a broken elbow is only a 4 and a tweaked can barely move back is a 5 or 6. Pain and I are familiar lovers.

After removing the skin and nails and wiping up the blood, this person was looking on disgusted. And I just gestured and said, see, good as new.

Home Chapter 4 – Audio

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Please Visit the Site to Hear the Audio

Candy and Absinthe-Audio

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Scabs conceal

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What’s this feeling
that beats deep within
waiting for a chance to breathe
Waiting to see
Waiting to hear

eyes gone blurry
Blind to only the pain
And the time between

Words rip out
Leaving jagged wounds
Forced to the surface

Snuffed out

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She stills my heart with the slightest look
Stirring my blood with a grin
Her words warm and light a fire within
But we are never to be

We danced the flame
The illusion
Only you were ever safe
With each step my heart cut to ribbons
To adorn you in my love

Pull away
Dragging the pieces of me out
Last attempt to get a stay
Execution and the pain
Sadly, better than the emptiness of never was

Sleeping

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The point at which all dreams fall apart
Time runs out behind me as life unspools
Forced by failure
By falter
Forsaken by all I would hold close
Forgotten on the black sand shores of memory
Slipping away even from self
A sleep away from without you

Rambling thoughts on love 

Pelgris12 Comments

It’s as simple or as complicated as we make it. Loving another is always going to be messy. But it is always worth it. Even when it hurts. Even when it feels like your heart has been ripped out. It is always worth it. To cast yourself open into the yawning abyss, hoping their love will catch you. That your love, together, will halt the fall. I don’t know any other way to do it. Not and have it not take years. Ask any of my friends. For all that I am open, I’m a hard man to get to know. My friendships take years to form. And I love every one of my friends. And from most, I would try for a intimate relationship with, if that is what they wanted. I feel I’m rambling now. The point is that love, while painful, is always worth the pain. People create walls around their selves. Trying to keep out every possible hurt. But that keeps out most of everything. I speak from experience. I shut myself off. Turned off all the things that were painful and felt nothing. Blocked behind walls, behind doors, inside a bubble. Trapping myself inside, to protect from the pain.

It didn’t work. All the pain, the sorrow, all of it just built and built until it crushed through my walls. Battered them to pieces. There is no wall high enough or thick enough, no defense built well enough that it cannot be breached. The only choice becomes to deal with it.

Again, I seem to have lost the thread. Love is always worth the time, the pain. I have never been more happy than when expressing love. Never been more at peace than when I am holding someone I love in my arms.

Substitution

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I am uneasy.
I can feel the blood coursing through my veins.
My muscles twitching in time to the beat.
Ache spreading out.
Circulation not quite cut off.
Dizzy and reckless.
Falling out of the edge of consciousness
Floating but aware as the drumbeat holds me steady
Sensation from outside
Fevered heat
Slowly melding in
Then a suddenness of pain
Almost shocking to wakefulness
But receding into the background
Replaced by eagerness
Anticipations building
Unbearable
Again! Nerve endings crying for more
Again! Pain turning to the muddle of both it and pleasure
Mixing until all is lost to rut and ruin

Love and stress

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Stress
Stress ate me up and spit me out yesterday
Thought I was sad but after the 19th, the 11 year Anniversary of Morgan’s death, I felt OK. I never tell people which day we met, when her birthday was, the day we said I love you. I never tell them about the thousand moments and pleasures and discussions we had. Because those are mine. Those are what tells me that love is still possible. That there is beauty and joy in this world. I only tell people about her death, because fuck them! Fuck them! She was the light of my world. She was judged, I was judged by our lifestyle and when a shitbag motherfucking piece of shit took advantage of the world we shared and took her life, her family shut me out. I don’t even know where she is buried. I don’t know if they cremated her and spread her ashes in the Tradewinds like she wanted. So that a part of her would always be in the sky. Watching over those she loved. I don’t tell stories about us, about her because I can’t get 20 words in before I’m crying and my throat closes up. I can talk about her death because it fills me with a cold rage. A control seeps into me and I can function.
But the stress, the knowledge of her sits somewhere in the background. And yesterday, it caused me to collapse. My brain shut my body down. I slept for 16 plus hours. And I write this now as a reminder. Morgan is gone. My love remains. I need to acknowledge that while seeking the beauty and love I know is out in the world. Someone is sitting there and we’ll meet.
To whoever that is, you aren’t competing with a ghost. I know I can love greater and deeper because of my Morgan. I’ll just be sad sometimes. I’ll be destroyed sometimes. I collapsed because I tried to bury it. To hide my pain, to forget. Because that is what people seem to expect. But what people expect has never really worked out for me. I guess I just needed to see that.

Love and stress

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Stress
Stress ate me up and spit me out yesterday
Thought I was sad but after the 19th, the 11 year Anniversary of Morgan’s death, I felt OK. I never tell people which day we met, when her birthday was, the day we said I love you. I never tell them about the thousand moments and pleasures and discussions we had. Because those are mine. Those are what tells me that love is still possible. That there is beauty and joy in this world. I only tell people about her death, because fuck them! Fuck them! She was the light of my world. She was judged, I was judged by our lifestyle and when a shitbag motherfucking piece of shit took advantage of the world we shared and took her life, her family shut me out. I don’t even know where she is buried. I don’t know if they cremated her and spread her ashes in the Tradewinds like she wanted. So that a part of her would always be in the sky. Watching over those she loved. I don’t tell stories about us, about her because I can’t get 20 words in before I’m crying and my throat closes up. I can talk about her death because it fills me with a cold rage. A control seeps into me and I can function.
But the stress, the knowledge of her sits somewhere in the background. And yesterday, it caused me to collapse. My brain shut my body down. I slept for 16 plus hours. And I write this now as a reminder. Morgan is gone. My love remains. I need to acknowledge that while seeking the beauty and love I know is out in the world. Someone is sitting there and we’ll meet.
To whoever that is, you aren’t competing with a ghost. I know I can love greater and deeper because of my Morgan. I’ll just be sad sometimes. I’ll be destroyed sometimes. I collapsed because I tried to bury it. To hide my pain, to forget. Because that is what people seem to expect. But what people expect has never really worked out for me. I guess I just needed to see that.