I have things I want to say but they all feel like a remix rehash of conversations held before. Like being tired isn’t new and being alone isn’t new. Waking up and going to work. Being in love, the constant state of my being. Wondering about maybes and wondering about other shoes and planning actions and reading books and reading poetry and it’s all the same.
The constant drips of a life flowing away.
The minutes spent with a pet. The enforced perspective of now.
Not having anything to say except all the things I’ve said.
I’m sure there are stories I’ve not told and memories I’ve not shared. They just seem so far away. And very few want a dissertation on mannerisms and choices as informed by sociological pressures which become psychological norms by stint of being accepted practices.
Or to hear why a single brick of c4 would never create such a huge explosion no matter how many detonators you pushed into it(not withstanding the complete lack of electrical signal to said detonators)
I suppose this is the unfortunate circumstance where you want to talk but have no one whose as weird as you are or who loves you enough to listen to you being weird at four in the morning.
Life isn’t what we portray it as. Sometimes, the closest you can get to a person is to hear their oddball ideas and observations and bounce your own back and that’s enough.
And other times…you need to hold someone and tell them it will be ok. Not just for them but because we all need to hear that too.
I retreat from the world into sleep every time I feel that liar in my head telling me that I’m not worth the relationships I have. That it’s no wonder that I’m alone. This litany of, I want to say lies, but I’m in it right now and I can’t say whether or not there is some truth to it. I mean I feel the weight of it. How could the people I lean on not feel that weight? And they have their own worries too. I hate adding to them. So I usually sleep and I feel better after doing so. But today I can’t do that. I have been up since midnight and I need to get ready for work. And I’ll probably be fine once I’m there and the armor goes up but it doesn’t go away and sometimes it breaks free. In these moments before I get ready, I think that I need a vacation but that’s just time alone in my head and that’s what I have now. Except, I’d get to sleep and yearn for even the limited connection that coworkers bring.
I guess most days I try to do a better job of being the man Morgan needed than I did when she was alive. If I was who I am now, she’d be by my side. And other days I think she was the only person who wanted me and look how I fucked that up. And I know it’s bullshit and that I did what I could but it doesn’t feel that way.
I think about how, if I’m this better person, why do my relationships never make it past that heady rush of the beginning months? Why do I feel the same and why do they not want me?
I feel like I’m flailing about just trying to move forward and I worry that I sometimes feel like an open wound. I hear my friends telling me that they want me around.
I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Just that I’m tired and want to sleep and I’m tired of finding people and losing people. Is the fault in the choice or the execution? I try to be less “I love you” now. Because I say it too soon?
Maybe they think it’s desperation or a projection of need? But my pain is knives turned inward. My perception and standards remain intact. I know how I feel. It’s just experience tells me that that doesn’t matter. No matter how much you love someone, they leave you. Better they know now, before it’s too late.
I take false breathes
Each one declaring itself to be perfect
treacherous heart beats loudly
Screaming to be set free
snap lightning synapse
Flashfire to eyes
Buried in tears
Hopes drown in a sea of tomorrow
Sounds spill out
No words make sense
Jumbled sounds said with a smile
Comrades in arms
Disappear at the end of the day
Long silences filled with memes
With fake people and their fake problems
Mirror reflecting stoic
While a heart aches
That basic human touch
Unshed tears war with skipped heartbeats
Sitting in the restaurant that I can’t afford
Anything to stop from hearing
The ticking of the air conditioning
In these too silent spaces
Dream sleep functions
Unreal until dances the leaf
Waiting for embrace
Every step is a step closer to the grave. Because what am I but a pointless gesture meandering through the simple silence of shadows cast.
Are goals so loose they may well be guidelines instead of definition be truly enough to get out of bed for?
Or am I just wasting for want of a leader.
No harness can I wear that is not fashioned by my hand.
I am horrible to lead as I question each choice and deed.
Take flight and burn in turn of phrase.
Always looking for the person who sees me through the smoke.
Obscured by my honest answers to the meat of the question.
Semantics but I like is not the same as love is not the same as desire is not the same as need.
We break and say what was I to say?
Don’t peddle love when other is meant.
I’ll settle counterweight against your love, a fulcrum to move the world.
Should it prove to be the brittle half truth of like, I’ll break in the turning.
See me, I’ll not settle.
I’m not settling when I choose your love.
But I’ll not take less than all that you are either.
What is worth if not worth all?
Selling pieces without regard or regardless.
But I’m as broken as any, perhaps more so, knowing yourself is no remedy.
Ignite, burn and be the pyre.
As I lay here fading, bereft of you.
Waiting on the turn of the wheel or a spoken word.
I believe that if you love someone, you tell them.
If you want to be with them, you tell them.
If you are with them, you dream of them.
If they walk by your side, you touch them.
You touch in joy, in desire, in happiness. You touch to reaffirm that you desire them. You touch in public. So called public displays of affection are just demonstrations that love should not be contained. And if someone doesn’t like it, well, fuck them.
I prefer my relationships to be shouted from the rooftops. I prefer that we love out loud and loudly at the same time. Little secrets are for little children. If you are mine, then You Are Mine. I love with fierce passion.
I don’t understand walking without touching. Without seeing them out of the corner of your eye and pushing them to the wall and kissing them. Or pulling them as close as possible until someone shouts “get a room”.
I want to whisper poetry and hear your voice and your words. I want you to fall asleep at my side and wake knowing that you are loved.
If you have a dark side, I’ll match you step for step.
Join me, dance with me, love with me. I’ll do my level best to not dissapoint.
My brain feels empty after poetry month. I am trying to think about what poem to write and can’t figure out what to write. I could force one. I think we’ve all seen that I can do that in the last month. But I don’t wanna. What I really want is to just be for awhile. Just sit and watch the trees. And just drift. Maybe read a little, maybe blast VNV Nation. Hang out. Play some Cards against humanity with friends. Just not think.
I’m looking at my phone. It’s with me all the time with the Internet and Facebook and games and texts. And I’m thinking, there is nothing this phone can do that can distract me from this pain. There is nothing it can do to give a moment of peace. Nothing that gives hope. Nothing that gives purpose.
Just this endless pablum of white noise that does nothing to stop the screaming voice that sobs out, “You are unwanted. Unloved. What are you still doing here.”
And I think of the people I could reach out to and just who would that be? It’s not ok. It’s not going to be OK. I’ve had my fill of I know what you’re going through or I wish you didn’t know what that feels like. I am going through it. I do know what it feels like. The only thing that stops it is when I don’t feel alone. This is just what is. I try my damndest. But I’m right back where I started. If anything, more bruised and jaded.
Nothing is good, nor will it ever be again. That’s what today feels like.