wish I could turn off my brain
turn it off and just be happy
turn it off and just remember
turn it off and just be
instead I dull it
sleep away my time
as if time wasn’t all that I owned
and these thoughts that just won’t shut off
wish I didn’t read a thousand interpretations in a silence
in a smile
in a phrase
learned paranoia becomes just paranoid
taught myself to see all the angles
now I see right angles in circles
and I just want it to stop
and when I’m better
and when your there
I feel like I’m normal
like I got it mostly handled
and who are those people who feel like this
who don’t see a cliff and for just a quarter of a second think about jumping
who don’t lose relationships because they second guess themselves until their person wonders why they aren’t second guessing too
who don’t work themselves into such stress that they lose sleep
who don’t find themselves awake at four am, yearning
But that’s not gonna be me
I’m the broken brain and broken heart
But not about you
just some weeks are harder than others
and I don’t know how to say it’ll be ok while I’m being not ok and just want to be held
but that can’t happen cause I’m supposed to be the strong one
can’t show weakness though I’m riddled with holes
holes papered over but still bleeding
Never fully healed
but sometimes fully functioning
hard to know when to start talking
and never have I known when to stop
Don’t want to feel like I need to apologize for falling in love
Too soon? What is that? Too soon for who? Sure I don’t know everything about her, so what? Learning about someone is a relationship. Seeing them as they grow and change and embracing those changes. That’s a relationship. People tell me that I say it too soon, that I should live in the moment. Where else is there to live? The moment realized is a byproduct of future planning but failure to plan is failure to realize. Love is always a Work in progress. That pure crystalline love that never waivers or changes is the fairytale and maybe that’s the standard people hold to and that’s why we are so unhappy.
When I say I love you it’s no perfection. No crystalline structure of atoms waiting for the right forces to shatter it. It is the messy growing complex thing that becomes as things change and accommodates new structures to become a whole. Not unwavering or unyielding but instead resilient and capable of change.
Through a series of missteps I grew used to apologizing for what I feel.
I don’t want that. I want someone who sees me and likes that I’m a poetical kind romantic who will spank you and play in dark and light ways all while abiding in a column of love. And sees that I go through darkness too, and knows that I’m there despite my challenges.
Even now I feel like I have to apologize for being too much. I want someone who sees my too much and knows it for enough.
This empty hole widens
Deeper and deeper
Things unsaid erode the center
Well aware its too soon
A sea change
What was once lightning in a bottle
Only the container remains
In the moments where silence reigns
I woke as Anthony and went to sleep as Pelgris. And though seemingly innocuous, I can’t help but think I lost in the process.
Some know my First name because it’s on my short story collection on Amazon. Some because I’ve shared it privately.
Pelgris is a public persona and very much a part of me. But it’s not everything. I hold pieces of myself back that only people who have private contact with me will see. Maybe that’s disingenuous, but I hope not.
But I woke with a hello Anthony in my inbox and went to sleep with a goodnight Pelgris. And it felt like a goodbye.
I’m probably overreacting. But emotions care little for rationality.
In a way, I dislike that my personal life is published. But this is my process and I can’t let something go until it diffuses out.
I hope they see it as I intend it. I am not sharing my feelings directly because my obsession with words should not cause you to rethink how you feel or interact with me.
And frankly, this is what I am. I write. Sometimes poetry, sometimes not, but I write. And to confine myself to public experience is to quash the internal sense that connects us.
Sounds like a excuse for incorrect behavior. I guess I can only say that I try very hard to disguise the who’s from the general public and only those in it will know from context.
And we can always talk, privately.
This went on longer than I thought. The first part is the important bit, the emotional bit. The rest is process. Anthony things rather than than Pelgris things.
In the last week my left eyelid has begun twitching. This has happened before and I thought it was just lack of sleep. But I’ve been sleeping ok. So it’s probably stress.
So what am I stressed about?
I’m not in a relationship. A few friends and maybe’s but nothing solid.
My work is no different than it’s been for 6 months.
So what’s changed?
I think, uncertainty. I’m good with chaos. I can handle it and even excel in it but extend that out for months and add in some emotional shocks and I think we have the recipe for copious stress.
My usual outlets aren’t cutting it. So the stress is starting to take a physical toll in the form of eyes twitches and fatigue.
There’s little to be done beyond what I’m doing. I won’t take medication except in dire need, so that’s out. I guess more meditation is in order. More something.
I don’t know what is possible though. I mean, I want what I always do. But how realistic is that? I mean no one is going to pop out of the ether and say hey, wanna hang out and maybe more?
I don’t know. Maybe I’m alone because I need to process. Or maybe I just don’t know.
But this eye twitch is really getting on my nerves
Looking back, I wonder
I wonder why I allowed situations where I was in so much pain
I wonder at feeling those highs when the lows lasted for so much longer
I wonder why do I want someone to eat with me when I so much enjoy sitting alone at the restaurant, eating at my slow pace, reading my book
Experiences that aren’t made better
I only dance in public when I’m not with someone I know
I’m only free from all expectations on my own
But still, I miss having someone.
To love. To kiss. To hold.
I miss sleeping next to someone.
Not all the time, but sometimes.
I miss that moment when you look at each other and everything is said and nothing is spoken
If it were a year ago, I would be without reservation. I would be full ahead, all in, how to get from here to there hardcore planning and presentation. It is the unfortunate case that the me of a year ago is gone. He had a bit more faith, a bit more naivete(if that term can be applied to someone as old hat as I).
Truthfully, I miss him. He would have stormed the gates of heaven for the hint of what now may be.
That’s not to say that I’m not overwhelmingly intrigued and even hopeful. Just that now, I’m cautious. People have burned me on hoping before. And while I don’t think that will happen here, it may not work out. That would be disappointing but little would change, I think.
I’m cautiously optimistic. I think we have a good shot. But slowly and coming into each other’s lives, not the headlong rush that has been so destructive in the past. In a way, I’m just talking myself into slow. Because the gods know, I’m much more comfortable with jumping.
This as a possibility I would never have guessed. Amazing. The world is still a beautiful surprise.
Some say I am brave to love
To gamble heart and sanity
On chance and flame
Mayhap, my sight is flawed
I know myself for broken
And perhaps in breaking further
My pieces will align and I will be whole
perhaps the flame will forge me
And I will rise anew
Is it bravery to love?
Rather, I think, it necessity.
I find myself thinking about you.
And, of an instant, the flash as you are in my arms and I’m kissing you
Lips pressing and holding the words left unsaid
Tongue slipping against tongue
like a dam breaking
the flood of might have been collapsing down to this moment
where our choice is each other
and a fierce joy for each future minute
we will face unafraid
Secure in the knowledge
that we will face it together.
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.