You have entered the realm of a writer.

Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Nightly Disillusion

Nightly Disillusion
     Free me
     Awaken me from
tired darkness within
caged expressions.
     The Bars hewn by
          iron dreams of previous
hearts decimated
          shards of teeth
      chattering around possibilities.
of growing infatuation.
I am deterred,
     wanting the warmth
     of blood flowing from
          our sacred vessels.

In the morn
     eyes opening in a
     salty lake, stinging in memory
the beauty of his
     presence breaks the cell
          release the fabric
which makes us human.
Grasping my hand, I
     cling to his firmly
     I suddenly fly with
My Breath,
pounding rhythmically
     in time with the metronome
     of Life.

What's going on?

I just don’t get it. I feel my heart falling and as it falls so does my mood. The go hand in hand with this one: the more I like him, the more I get depressed. He doesn’t react to me. I see his infatuation in unguarded moments: eyes flitting open to mumble a tired goodbye, a running embrace of surprise at my appearance somewhere, the joyous appreciation of a gift presented at the unlikeliest of times. in return, I offer myself, emotionally and physically, and often feel nothing in return. His methods thus far are monetarily based, I assume, and it drives me into darkness and doubt. Money hasn’t been fortunate with me. I appreciate the dedication of his hard work to assisting a comfortable lifestyle, but I’d rather see and feel from him that which he shares through green. What I’m missing is the physicality of relationship, though we discussed not encountering that level between us yet. i’m ready for it, but I fear it as well because I need more physical interaction than he’s providing. Irony doesn’t escape me here... I feel like my ex right now. in my previous relationship I was always the one not putting out enough; and though I’m not upset about the lack of relations, I’m not being fulfilled. Once in eight weeks is a bit... underwhelming, especially when with a guy that I felt I could go more than once with [in one night]. He turns me on with his very presence: stature, personality, smile, the way he looks at me, the firmness in his hands...

This all points back to my willingness to love, my openness to love, the ability to allow myself to love again. Step 1: knowing it’s safe to fall in love. Step 2: knowing I’ll be physically and emotionally fulfilled. Step 3: fall in love?

Deep like is where I remain, bars deterring the chariot of the heart despite its rightful admittance to its home. I suppose I shall suffer in limbo of my own emotion until he offers more of himself or pushes me away. It’s not as if I’m looking for a singular entity of eternity to comfort me; for I am that essence for myself.
     Or is it the other?

I turn my head
          a beautiful mouth
          parted delicately in a sleep filled
Oh how dreams shape
our faces
     without control.
          Soft cheeks chisel the pattern
          of his bones
          Eyes close the light out
     His chest heaves gently
     under his breath.
I move my body along his
     hoping motion will awaken --
          wanting something.
He moves
back towards me
arm reaching for his clock.

“What time do you work?
     “One,” I answer in a gentle voice
          The raucous silence of the
          box fan in the window
steals him away
     back to sleep.

Consciously uncomfortable
     I dress and leave the room.
Two hours before I must depart,
     I take a shower.
          Warmth washing away
          doubt and insecurity.
It’s quiet without the crew
all alone in a
          stranger’s house.
there’s nothing for me
     while the beauty
          slumbers in
          his distant emotions

     Dried and dressed
     seated on the love seat
          I wait in earnest hope.
An hour descends
          waiting is fruitless.
     I go to say goodbye...

Crawling onto the bed
     effortlessly keeping it stilled
I kiss his cheek.
“I have to go.”

He rolls onto his back
     exposing his soft chest
     and smiles through his
          Genuine happiness with
          a spark of infatuation
“Oh, ok... Have a good day.”
“I will.”
We kiss quickly.
     gently on the lips
          almost emotionlessly.
“Sleep,” I say
          He turns back over
          and drifts away as I
          shut the door.

I leave.
         And leave behind nothing
Torn under a morning sky.
     Or is it the other?