Waiting for the door to open, having lost the desire to go through

I’ve talked about big things
Past things
Love things
I’ve talked about social things
Emotional things
Psychological things
I’ve talked about the inner workings of my soul
About music
About poets
I’ve written erotica
One off spy stories
I’ve turned a one off erotica story into a fool blown series with characters and plot
I’ve written, performed, recorded, and edited a serial novelization told in 3 voices and perspectives which span numerous hours and which took an hour of editing per 5 minutes of audio.
Then I did that 2 more times

But now I’m having trouble finding words
But really it’s finding time
Time to sit and be without worry weighing me down
Without concern for finances which never consumed me before
I’ve been lucky enough to have a place to land
I’ve been lucky enough to have freedom enough to be able to write
Even though that’s not how I make money
I dislike having lost that
But I’ve traveled the road of preservation of past instead of future
And that is always filled with painful regrets
Paths cut before completion
It’s like there is a membrane where before was a open door
Writing still exists on the other side
Just now it’s an effort filled with stress and struggle to get there
Maybe it’s lack of sleep
Or maybe living unsettled like this is always a shatter away from failure
The thinner the margin the harder the fall
And at some point the fall seems inevitable

Pawns of a waking dream

There was a time when I thought I could teach the world what it could be
Thought that shaping words and connecting thoughtss
Invoking emotions and making manifest not just desire but forming reality to will
Would somehow resonate and works its way beyond my borders
Would transform those it touched and somehow reshape a world dying

As days and years passed
I gave up on those thoughts that bloomed as a redolent flower which strutted and strived
Glitzy and hollow
Grip slowly relinquished as new life broke the mold of what was making me into what would be
And in the chrysalis of new beginning
A blow to the heart set me spinning away from one path as time and history rewrote itself
And I
At junction
At crux
Was cast out
Flotsam on the river of causality
Chrysalis hardens to shell
And denied outward growth
The only way out became down
Deep through pain and loathing
Into depression which had always nibbled at the edges
And now gloried in being centerpiece for a captive audience
Deeper
Core out each piece
And discern crystal or flaw
Raw and wriggling
Pink remora leaving behind fresh wounds but dying alone on the cold pavement
Each passing year a broken memory until tattered cataclysm in shredded throat torn again and again
feeling as blood and pressured release
Scream frequency finding harmonic resonance
In shell long past useful
And burst outward infecting
Killing what it touched
And still a bit remained
A blade sheathed beneath bone
A weapon of times long gone
Master no more and wielded wild-eyed
Agony as all walls fall and what was out caresses newly formed akin
Until pleasure and pain are just two ways of speaking and both hold no discernable sway over the other
Instead, both in their firmament
Gods bestride a world of flesh
And I mistress and master
Betrayed broken and each broken rib pierced breath
Imperceptibly easier

Until anew
A person looks out
Wondering at a world they didn’t live through
A time traveler taking the longest route through blindness to arrive in a fight that cannot be one
With coping skills that say to take a simple action
One that heart and eyes know will be unforgivable but effective
Begging anyone willing to give permission for the monster inside
Blade buried in bone
To be let free
Afraid to be allowed to be
And watching as it all burns
Silence let’s go its grip
A wave forms seeking cross and disruption
Seeking amplitude match
And growth
Seeking
Voice to voice
Until all of us
Throats raw and bleeding
In notes crystalline from cores of reflected shatters
Speak
Sleepers
Wake!

Outside the supermarket

You ask me for time
Like time is free
Like I have all the time in the world
Well
Maybe I do
But it’s my time to sell as I will it
Maybe that’s sitting in an office
Because they pay me to be there
Maybe that’s sitting in my car after lunch
Soaking in the heat
Falling asleep in the afternoon cause I don’t sleep at night
If you are going to stop me
Make it interesting
Pay me for my time
I have as few moments as anyone
Buskers and musicians
Always gonna get my money
Performance is always paid
I’m already giving to well researched charities
Why should I give to you in front of the restaurant wanting to explain why you’re here
Seems callous
I know
But I give what I can already
You asking me for more is me digging into my life and sacrificing
So you better have the monster pitch of the century
Or take the easy route
Play an instrument
I’m a sucker for that

Dating and real relationships

The trouble with dating is that it happens under this pressure cooker of “this is a romantic relationship”. It’s very where are we going. When do we kiss, was that a signal, etc etc. Outside of Morgan, my best relationships have been a outgrowth of shared experiences and time. Sharing ideas and thoughts and time. Which is not to say that I didn’t fall a bit in love quickly, I mean, this is me we’re talking about but time and ease and talking (in whatever medium) that’s what makes a relationship go. Morgan was lightning but even there we spent hours talking before we ended up in bed and we spent so much time talking about everything.

Communication and time, these are the keys. (I’m glossing over kindness, respect, joy, etc because to me those are a given, an of course. Maybe that’s not the same for everyone? I get the feeling it’s not, from my friends experiences)

Tick, tick, tick

I have nothing to give but everything that I am. Unfortunately, it never seems to be enough. Is it something I lack or was there something in you that could not be fulfilled. Or am I waiting for you to say, “I’m ready now.” And, fool that I am, I wait while you seek joy in the heart of another. Or I wait until circumstances are better. Or I wait until you realize what you need and it isn’t me. Or I wait while time drifts you away.

Take a step to me. Don’t say but or maybe. Don’t wait, times is passing, regret is for the things that you fail to face not for love. I know. It’s painful to hope. I know. I’ll try not to fail you.

Flying into the storm

The sun sets but day only reluctantly gives ground 

Those I need are embraced by darkness before I am

So I hold to this light 

Because I know it touched them as I am unable 

But, do they read this, know that my desire seen is but the smoldering ash cone of a volcano hidden beneath the waves. 

Summer Rain

Raindrops like imperfections in glass
Looking out to faded grey sky
Light and patches drifting
She sits in the car next to me
Relaxed and leaning back
This woman I never talk to
Sharing this time
Always apart
Lacking even the courage to say hello
Or burst this fantasy that she shares this roof because looking at the sky is worth It
Worth the heat and the distance
She’ll exit her car, I’ll watch her walk away
Silent
Listening to summer rain.