Stumbling to Reassess

There's so much going on in my head, the words struggle to find meaning. The changes that have wrought my life anew continue to affect the views of the verse as it fights to climb down my arms to finger-tips and furthermore to the digital expanses as poetic disseminations of electrical synapses creating meaning for myself.

Love. I'm beginning to dislike the search and endeavor that is love. It's warping the very fabric of my vision, outlook, and interaction with life. I'm afraid of it, and have been since the tragic exploration earlier this year (for which such wondrous expulsions of poetry descended upon my computer). Now, I've found love anew, a love which is geographically undesirable as I'm consistently told by my brother, and I find many desires so locally bound. Guilt then tries to interfere with my daily routine with the subjects of my desire. There's no reason to feel guilty, especially with the understanding that distance (for the two of us) is a variable which cannot be overcome until it no longer exists. Another tragic appearance? However the guilt is twofold. I feel sorrow for the individuals attempting to form love with me here, so close to home; and thus feel guilty that I continue to date them (yes, plural) even with the explicit understanding that dating is what I am doing. Yet, they continue to fall and let their emotions be unguarded even unto themselves and become hurt when I explain that I am dating. ::sigh:: Predicaments avail, even in a community where the idea of 'dating' has been explained to me as non-commital and freeing.

Do I attract such people that solely want forever? I want forever with one, perhaps... but even then we don't know each other well enough to say that's what we'll accomplish. It is certainly at the forefront of our thoughts. Maturity stays the course.

I just want to be free. Experience freedom as I traverse the hallways of college. I'm not looking for commitment, even though commitment is all I've known. It's true... the experiences of my life have formed the strict foundation that commitment, solidarity, permanence are what feel comfortable when interacting with others. Though comfort is suppose to be appealing, I am not in it for the continual comfort of a singular entity. I'm looking for experience, to learn about and feel the world, to find out more about the unknown to me (maybe not about everything with precarious consequences), and to grow from the experiences I accumulate.

Perhaps that's why my writing is so halted currently. I'm forcing myself into a new reality, breaking conditions imposed from another to regard the world with new lenses (I'm now wearing Oakleys!!!) and find a voice that I feared lost forever: a voice I had in high school, a voice with strength, a voice I buried eight years ago, a voice I want to share with another when I know the time is right.

This feels good. This conversation with myself as I masticate through the muck of my mind. Perhaps these prose have always been where true comfort lies (with so many implications there... Aren't fictional stories lies?). We shall see as time progresses. Hopefully you will see as well, and perhaps give me insight to myself. Verse, after all, is a window into my soul. I share my soul with you.

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.

 Morning.
     Or is it the other?

I turn my head
     seeing
          a beautiful mouth
          parted delicately in a sleep filled
          grin.
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
          again
     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
          tiredness.
          Genuine happiness with
          a spark of infatuation
               perhaps.
“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?

It's a Simple Motion

It’s a simple motion.

Your hand here,
your thoughts there...
Push with your legs ‘til
you’re all the way near.

Grip hard, hold tight.
Swing your feet out of sight.
Muscles scream from the fight,
while ecstasy reigns
with increasing height.

And release.
Fall.
Fall.



Fall.
‘Til the floor catches
and relax, staring up
to where zenith lies.


Success.

It's here.

It’s here,
within. I
          can’t
have it, can’t
     hold it, and won’t
see it;

but I know.
               Will he?

Two Minutes

Two minutes:
A thought of hope in love.
Do I? Does he? Will ever again they merge?
And now...
The minutes tick on as love unfolds
but does it envelope the two
as one?
Or none to remain...
Time’s gone and words release.
Here we move forward,
folding back the creases of our life.

Conscious Cuddling

Suffering my own thoughts
brings undulating despair with no course.
‘Course there’s
more.

No more with more without.
And within
there’s only which conserves
the opportunity to hold
what’s wanted from without:

supplemental salve for salvation
of the heart.

Hands dive deeper in the dark
than they would
forseeing the depths of the Road ahead.
Thoughts dive without looking
regardless the circumstance.

See this as what can be.
Help derive
the possibilities, and shave
the notions holding with strength
[oh strength...]
to the vital hypothesis of this

complimentary conscious cuddling of souls.

Thoughts be damned.
Body rules.

The Conversation with My Heart

The doubt in my mind causes me grief. Simple thoughts circulate around the very image of perfection and stir the degrading circumstances into a spiraling typhoon around my heart. Love is present, I believe... but my mind won’t let it manifest properly; and everything that comes to the forefront of my thoughts are negligent and retarding, in the literal sense of the word. I want to give myself away as I have twice before. I want to jump into this newness as a fresh piece of paper whose borders have not been breached by the ink of a staining pen as it attempts to write out the passage of this possibility.

That’s part of it too: this relationship I’m in is simply a possibility at this point. Prior discussions have made it unconventionally clear that we are dating, no more, no less, with the distinct intention of working towards getting to know one another before declaring any suitable title for the associations between the two of us. Pure appreciation for the maturity of this decision has descended upon my heart because I’m still unaware of the landscape of the love I can disseminate. To give away what is not lush and verdant would be utterly despicable, especially if that was the cause of unfortunate outcomes. I don’t want to mess this up because he is truly an amazing guy.

Everything I’ve wanted up to this point: comfortable, confident, true, experienced, hidden, mature, relaxed, trusting, and open. He cares not if I’m out and about, living the life on the town. He enjoys that I embrace new experiences with him, and without him. He doesn’t pry into my life, as I have left his relatively untouched ‘til recently. Pressure between us for physical encounters is far from present and that creates the most pleasant environment to get to know each other. His smile makes me feel welcome, invited. His eyes don’t push into my soul and wait for me to step forth. HIs touch is soft, gentle, yet firm in what he wants. With all these attributes, the one thing that soothes my being above all else is his energy: calm, relaxed, firm, and knowing.

Knowing... He knows much about living, and that is something I enjoy profusely. I have always wanted to live; and a few aspects of me endured the weather I found myself in in order to live, but I wasn’t living. January finally found my footing in the land of life, where sunshine enveloped my essence and freedom told its story through my actions. Unfortunately, transitions from captivity to the outer doors has its turbulence and I got caught up in the luckless waves for a few months, but I learned a lot about what it takes to keep my footing.

And I found this man: a man to be approved of, a man to share with everyone, a man to take hold of and hope will never leave in any circumstance... And the doubt enters in. My fear resides in my own worthiness. I am damaged from a sundering unto myself from myself for myself, further broken my by intrinsic willingness to love another before the mending occurs, and I’m perhaps unknowingly reserved from uncontrolled trepidation to love another because of all of my previous experiences with love. Many people around me say I’m good enough, say I’m worthy, tell me I’m worth the love I hold in my heart (which truly is unconditional and full and bright as the stars, beautiful as the Verse). I want to feel it, though... I need to know it’s coming before I give, I suppose...

Then I’ll know if I am ready. To know I’ll be safe in another’s heart when I give mine away, to understand the other won’t mindlessly, needlessly harm me when I’m already torn, to feel the breath between two lungs from another’s lips... that will give me the peace of mind, soul, heart to be able to give what I fear giving. Truthfully... I’ll only know if that’s enough when it happens; and with this man I believe the road will be smooth enough for me to take the necessary time to find the right moments to open the forest of my heart to him.

It is sodden. The ground is moist with the rain of the past. Growth is slow and timid, searching for the ray of sunlight piercing the grey clouds. Under the cracks from a quake ages ago the roots spread slowly, feeling out the nutrients of spirits whispering of purity hidden in the soil underfoot. Darkness remains despite the effort of the forest’s god calling upon the serenity of his compatriots. The walls are closed to the slow walk, trapping in and keeping out all the efforts of endearment between. Three words hold the key to the gates. Three words endeavor to break down the clouds. Three words will bring the forest back alive and seal the ground with tidal forces swaying like a gentle breeze amongst the leaves. The Keeper awaits those words, tending the way in patient circumstance.

So must I.

Its warmth bottoms unlight, surfacing twilight under waves of breath.

Fervent Enamoratoin

So unsure ~
An unawareness short of purity
hoping delicate strands of
          starlight
will break the mold of
insecurities encircling the obscured
singularity of our
          Sol
flaming dangerously vibrant
between two lungs.
The simple smile ignites even more
warmth -- smitten glances catch
my breath, ever wondering if
fervent enamoration reaches
between his lungs.

Realization

The storm passed overhead, leaving behind the serenity of a pre-summer day. Clouds trail the darkened tempest, drifting away in silent course. Puffs of white shaded with dark blues and illuminated from above hide the purity of the daytime sky. Smiles from Sol don’t break the consistently growing hour; and the shade burns in my heart.

In my chest, where the despair originates from the unknown and the loneliness. Recent decisions have betrayed my sense of belonging, of kinships and love, of having companionship with myself and with another. Where the world stands, within my head, heart, and body, is wrapped in the aftermath of winds passing sodden emotions. I’m lost in a balancing of desires, in the searching for my life, in spiraling activities semi-detrimental to self image and self respect.

This trailing system of clouds spawns another outburst of storms. Rain falls casually on bright green trees, soaking pavement and pulling at the darkness within the shade of the grass. My toes feel the water lapping over my sandals. Immobile, I am drenched by the onslaught from the air. It’s always from the air...

Prospects from a future ignite fears within. Will it ever always be so cruel? In my mind or without my mind? I’m walking onward with life, finding spring in budding greenery along my route. So fresh, so innocent, so unknowing of the hardships simply growing will cause them to endure. A part of me wants to stamp them out, kill them early so they’re spared the brutality of this reality. I can survive in loneliness, despite the intrinsic desire to have that soul beside me.

A patch of clouds shifts and the blue skies reveal the sunlight so desired. I let it wash over me. I feel the touch on my toes, on my chest, through my eyelids and it bleeds into my blood, warming my body through to the darkest part of my heart. Where the warmth illuminates, I see the error of such thoughts. Epiphany strikes like a mallet on the church bells. I’ve stollen myself away from the possibility all because of fear for the next tempest’s touch. I walk with blindness in my eyes, under white skies. These footprints are laden with sorrow from pains incurred in attempts at finding what I’ve always wanted.

The beauty of summer doesn’t blossom without the tears of the clouds.

Our pasts feed who we are.

The clouds come at us from the west...

Peaceful Steps Climb

One by one they break the plane
stable, continuous -- rising higher.
Each path a moment's blink, each place
a battled breath
the moments are all the same,
scuffling about terrain strewn with
everlasting visions, with
the trappings between two lungs,
with the feel of reality from
a hand's touch and the smile's warmth.

This journey is back to stability,
equilibrium -- peace:
to reach from where I fell,
now battered, and scared,
yet missing the fall.

Exponential upward rise
pulls away from the fallen state,
a healing, mending, forging will
that hates the broken hatred plane -
but for longing to breathe,
to fly... to fall
it would be a pleasured pain.
Sorrowed mornings splay
the padded sole scuffing
concrete rises.

All desired is lost to descent
and ever is the rise without choice
-- missing pains the constant march
and stops the natural breath
flowing and ebbing
like memory flashing intense
corporeal emotions.

It's a step, one placement;
and to shall fade like the
echo of love's fatal cry.