be; so that
be fast nostalgia
do not linger here
i beg not to be reminded
so that i do not have to crawl
be quick time
do not pass me
and mill not around me
so that i may be able to breathe
be slow sorrow
shadow me in humility
stay just there behind me
so that i never want to turn back
be kind contentment
visit me as often as you can
encompass me where i camp
so that i have the promise of shelter
be a burden contrition
fight me with fierce hunger
hunt my every step
so that i can call you friend
be gentle regret
understand you have already won
stand next to me
so that you are only a shadow of who i am
be honest fear
know that you have no authority over me
keep me in your crosshairs
so that i remain on guard
be passive passion
let me understand you
burn slow and evenly
so that i may continue to know you
be still desire
please do not burden me
see i am tilting windmills
so that i may be productive
all of my first fruits to you
i love you like purple represents royalty
like water, i need you in my life daily or death will call me out
i close my eyes and i see you first- i open them and see you everywhere
your so beautiful to me that i can feel what you look like
ive spent my life adoring you and with the last words that pass my lips be your name i will be speaking so that my last breath was for you
i admit freely your attention alone could sustain every need or desire i could fathom
i seek every detail of your existence just to find out if by any chance i could love you more
my life is only purposeful when you are present in it
i cherish you
any loveliness in me, every kind thing i think, every honest thing about me
is just you
I love that for you
you can have your taupe and tan wardrobes
every shade of leather boots mark your steps
10,000 tumblers are at your disposal, you are you...
spending an hour painting your face to appear as if your not wearing a latex mask
you can have your cute words and happy inflections
your false head tilts and feigned empathy for things you know NOTHING of
your ego as fragile as the tiny whispers of gold you wear on every part of your self
your wasp honey of sweetness that turns to battery acid when you walk out of the room
the perfume you wear lingers longer than your scripted responses to hurting people
you make words sound sticky and manipulate with captions and emojis ...
you hide your worldliness like a harlot
exchanging a façade that could be a field of the wildflowers you braid in your hair for a
acre of 4th walls each built with pretentious mortar
you are a hector of the vile but you dine off the same behaviors with the same mouth
you worship at alters of branding and 'vibes' so you look better where you pray
you call out spectators with loud silence
the ideas you speak are so supple to others opinions you hide them behind a type of purposeful knights move thinking so not to be bruised in your opinions
trade your worst day for just one of the self images those you pretend to uphold hear screaming through their bodies that you mock with your falseness
you offer no hope in your relationships that do not serve you
your discomfort is based on attention seeking behaviors
your own celebrity with every private joke you create emphasizing the importance to be liked by you
vapid laughter and purposeful gesturing are your personality staples
a 'self made' individual of soft lighting and pastel watercolors
your wardrobe, coffee, heavy knitted one of a kinds, and plants are a stronger pallet than the whole spectrum of pashmina personas you drape around your unburdened shoulders
you are the best at loving all the bests
wild beasts of anxiety ripple over your seas of self righteousness that you will miss out on something that you don't champion
the mistakes your making now will later be your yoke- but never your fault
you cast a vantablack shadow on others self esteem, and you call it positive influence
heap pride upon yourself while you can while the filters are still available
15 minutes to reinforce something I wish I could forget
a few years ago
as i was slowly waking up from a brain injury
my mind replaying what the woman at the IRS meeting said to me
in that tone women use to one another ....
when we know... or when we think we may know something isn’t right
i was preparing to go home to have another stretch of time
thats all i saw the world as at that time
a stretch of time between two points i did not know existed yet
sometimes a death
sometimes a new pet
sometimes just a calendar changing
stuck in another stretch of time
but on this day
after that meeting
i would create the next... point
it was a beautiful and cold day
the streets were flooded from a storm the night before
the sun was full like summer-
it was early in the day still
normally a time i would fight against
instead, i was taking in the day
looking at everything
removing myself more from what just happened
and more into what I would make happen going forward
i was not driving
i don't know if the radio was on or not
but the sun was beautiful
to feel something was beautiful felt good
i noticed the same corner came into view for what I think was the third time
about the moment of that realization
it started
a fit
yelling
loud anxious thickness
flatly i attempted reasoning
a few times
but it only got worse
reasoning fed the yelling
so i stopped
looked at the sun
not caring that the building came around the corner a 4th time
not caring the road was flooded
no where to be
nothing to be late for
trying to find things to look at and drown out the fit happening at me
because the roads weren’t open
because the way was not clear
just because really
i saw a man who was sitting on the steps of a building
in that cold weather he was wearing slippers outside
fit goes on
i just sat scanning what was in the sun
and the man sitting on the steps looks up
yelling goes on
and we both smiled at one another
his hand popped into the sun
and there was just enough time for my finger to raise above the window line
and he was out of sight again
and i sat there in the yelling, my hand in the air
and started to cry
i couldn’t remember the last moment i felt kindness towards me
something more than a fit
or yelling
or hushed voices asking questions i didn’t understand
that feeling of kindness
was awful...
how beautiful and far away it was
how quickly it left me
for a moment i hated it- kindness
even if it was the moment that pushed me forward
to the next string of points
and to 'here'
i wish i could forget the moment i realized
what it felt like to feel how lonely i was
there’s nothing that 100 men or more could ever do
My head is pounding, everything seems so amplified. I tell myself on the way to the pharmacy this is going to be different, I am in pain- tomorrow I will be able to think better. When I see the glow of the store's sign lighting up the night, I can feel I am already lying to myself, like whispers of some quiet conversation in my own head. The pain is so loud is drowns out who I really am, who I want to be again. I know walking into that store, that sign will make me feel better before it makes me feel worse all over.
In line I try and speak to the woman in front of me, I want to answer her question but before I tried to remember what she even asked me- the man behind us loudly spoke, "you're next" and nodded her forward with his head. I'm never going to get away from this whole process. I'm always going to live in pain and there's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do to make it stop, I'm done cycling through them anyway if there even was anyone left to understand this.
I feel thankful for the thing I hate. I walk away from the store swallowing two pills so I can go home and clean and work, and as I think of all the things I need to catch up on... I see normal people and hear them being happy as they come and go through the parking lot as I get in my truck. I sit there watching strangers for a moment and as much as I want the pain to stop I want that side effect, too... numb. Knowing it will be even 20 more minutes of this agony, I allow the wild dogs in my head to cry out in the night- screaming in my vehicle as the world moves around outside of my restless, longing for some solitary company.
This is where I used to want to do anything to make a cross fade, but I am different now and I know that I must do what's right and go home while the window of numb is open.
I turn off the world with my earbuds, the music goes up and the noise canceling pushes the voice in my ear above the one in my head.
Walking in the house is like being on a mission. Being productive cures the hurt
deep inside of this 'thing' that I've become that feels so different from 'alive'. I'm never going to get used to life like this- it's gonna take death to make me get over this hurting. No one can do this but me, and that is just how it is now.
A few hours go by and even with less now to do, I know I am 'allowed' to go numb again. Since the physical pain is still at a level where I can think, I need to take time and be still without more of those pills that steal me in one way as they allow me to exist in another. This is where I have to be careful not to keep pushing myself, and take at least some time to open the door to think about you, quickly and not for too long. You are always right there, behind my eyes... like waiting ... even when you were here, I loved to be still and think about you when we were apart.
The physical pain makes it easier to excuse being so isolated, even more this late at night. This is when I have to chose sleep over those pills. This is when I know I have to accept sleep instead of time in my head with you. This is when I am closest to God, you, and my real self- when I chose to be still over numb, even in pain. Dying of thirst to feel normal-with a bottle of water right there on my desk- but accepting to wait to be thankful for the thing I hate even less tomorrow. On my way to sleep I know I have 29 days to figure out how I will feel in that parking lot again.
not the net nor the cage
when the dinosaurs come back, they will fill the air
no humans to slow them down, we won't be there
when the water is soured
when the farms go barren, just to go overgrown
the birds will take over
on the blood of the dead
on the eggs of their own
when the apocalypse happens, or perhaps WW3
there will be no where to run-
but the air will be pathways, the air- and the sea
when the dinosaurs come back
feathered and evolved
the oceans will be thriving
the mammals will be mauled
new life will emerge
like in countries before
when atom bombs or nuclear incidents riddled their shores
what will emerge will be from what was left after
starting from those winged things where climate was never a matter
the sparrow will rise
the crows leading the way
when the dinosaurs come back
the eagles, the hawks, those... birds... of prey
cuckoos and cowbirds traits will make the way
each will raise others, teach others, eat other and so on
until what swims in the water- and can take to the skies
are the only apex of natures coin- to emerge and rise