Some days I just feel so old
Ancient beyond all reckoning
Thoughts moving in patterns
So slow
So foreign to what is
I feel so lost
So alone
Trapped by memories
By actions long past
By choices made
Made without regret
But without full regard to the consequences
Consequences I long know the result of
Time ebbs on
And I am as trapped as any
Just a bit more free
Free to know
Free to mourn
Free to weep
For deeds
For thoughts and actions
Few will ever know
And fewer understand
And fewer still
Who could accept
Why
time
To feel, we must break; to love, we must fall
Between the lines we see what is but it is in that non-existence that we find space to spread the wings of the mind. Out beyond the borders, while inside we huddle worn and weathered from the broken storm of being. We spread dark wings patterned after the universal night. Breaking what lays between as pointless barrier. Walls fall in realities long distant. And what is, becomes.
And yet, still we are forced into the flesh of the moment. Relying on frail mortality to provide that glimpse beyond what is; to experience infinity one must first have a frame of reference. So we rise up and take a vessel. And live a mortal life trapped in the slowly decaying orbit which is called living. But until we snap finger quick out of one life to the next. We wander in this transition point. This hollow ache of slow perception which bridges the gap between anticipatory hope and the fresh burn of the new. Waking up, we find ourselves in the deep embrace of desire. One less step forward. One less day left in the traverse. All just the memory.
The patient gaze of observation. And the slow waiting for the next.
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Injecting sand, hoping for one more minute
I play for time
Rolling dice against an uncaring clock
Anything to maintain distance from sleep which drags me unwilling out of bed as morning breaks
And fatigue settles into bones
Wander through routine
And listening to high energy music in a vain attempt to will myself into work
I play for time
Seconds drip by
Hopeful steps with one more second before tomorrow becomes inevitable
That foreknowledge
That foregone conclusion
It not even burnout
It’s just life
This wheel turning with no hope to get ahead
Head above water
Treading and hoping to make it to that future I once thought certain
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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
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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!
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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
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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)
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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.
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The millstone turns
I feel myself fading
Breaking
Losing myself across time
A flag left waving
In a wind blowing me east
Standing on this blood soaked ground
Looking into the chasm
Ready to fall
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Holding a breath
Still
Heat drapes
As in finery
The blank thrust of empty sky
Filling blue
A bowl of promises
Left unfulfilled
Time slows
Possibilities die
My hand reaches out
Wondering
Words ground down smooth
And all that
Was
Lays
Still
Pelgris 