Outstretched Hands: Singing songs without the lyrics.

Always when you least expect it.  That's kind of bullshit.  I was expecting it and then it happened.  Does that mean I willed it into exisistence?  Or is it mere happenstance?  At this point does it even matter? 


Ashes.  All of it.  All there ever was or could have been.  Am I supposed to feel something?  I don't.  Though I hardly did when you were around so I guess it's not surprising. 


I can't recall if there were good times.  Or if there were bad times.  I'm sure they happened in the past, but I can't cite any.  I do know the lesson you were.  That I most assuredly remember.   You were important until you weren't, as with all things in life.

disregard, disrepair

way to be immensly selfish.  yeah I'm an awesome person.  awesomely asshole.  I mean is there a brain up top or is that all just self-deluded air?

Scratch the surface

It just occured to me that I have a lot of double standards that I go by.  Especially when it comes to things that annoy me or piss me off.  Almost the entire world can't get away with doing one thing that irks me.  BUT a select few can literally do everything I hate, plus 7 more things I had no idea bothered me, in the span of 10 minutes and I have no reaction. 


How did these few become to be infallible to me?

Furthermore how does anyone become a fixture in your life?  I know some come given to you, but they don't always stay that way.  And others they just somehow, someway get in under the wire.  You wake one morning to find them with you, a part of you. 

For a long time if not most of my life, I will admit, I have tried to fight off attachments.  And I would be lying if I said it wasn't a daily struggle to keep the attachements I now have.  To not pick fights that would piss people off and ensure that they leave me alone.  To show interest in the lives of those whom I care for.  Because I really do, though I may not show it.  Mostly because I'm unsure how.

I know this comes from lessons that I've learned from and extrapolated upon. 

Lesson: Some people can't be trusted.  Expanded: Most people can't be trusted.  Eventually you can convince yourself that no one can be trusted.  This is not the case, though some days it truly seems so. 


God, tangent much?  F'n A.

Point is, some people can get away with murder for me.  And I guess it bothers me how much that doesn't bother me.

unseen

Cool air ghosts across my face.  My hair swishes gently as I pull my coat tighter.  There's a newness in the atmosphere, the kind that only comes from the first snow.  Long since melted from the day, but somehow it has still left it's mark.  Everything seems different, is different. 

***



I'm not sure what it was, I just know something changed for me on that walk back to the car.  I was briefly cocooned in a sense of calm I did not know was possible to reach.  The world seemed another place for a few moments.  My soul was lifted.

Now that it's been dropped back into it's "rightful" place (which, who really knows about that?  Right?)  I'm left with...well something feels broken, or maybe shifted?  I can't discern.

I long for that chill again.  The one that leaves you warm and comforted.  It only happens at the oddest moments and you must, above all else, remember to revel in it.  Or you will feel a great loss later.

Like many things in life this is noted but not truly experienced.  Something only the perfect coalescence of elements can create.  Many other moments may be close, but none ever the same.  One of those rarities that when reached for, escapes you.  But if you wait, if you just wait, it will float gently down and land in your lap like a feather.

~

It's like I can't even feel

After the way you touched me

sleepwalker a.l.

speak to me of band-aids and mercurochrome

A pull.  Sometimes it can be a good thing.  Being drawn to something, and maybe you can even find fulfillment there.  But most of the time it just hurts.  A sharp yank in a direction which you had no intention of going.  Totally fucks up your gait, if not completely landing you on your ass.  And with a dislocated arm to boot. 

If you think about it, it seems most of our lives are spent repairing.  Either by what we, other people, or various outside forces have done to us. 


Though sometimes no matter how much spackle you slap on, or how many coats of new paint you add, there will always be a few things that are never quite the same.

Wounds that will never close, bruises that won't fade.  a hole in your chest where something used to be.  But now there's just an art deco lamp, because it looks pretty and makes the hole less noticeable.

Can we just sit on the concrete and pout for a minute?

Outstretched Hands: Gone. Or so it was, until it wasn't.

I can't understand why I need to make amends for something I didn't do.  I refuse to bow to your fiction.


If I were smart I would probably cut the ties that bind.  But I allow you to hold me back.  Hold me down.


History is all we really have.  And I'm not sure the good of that outweighs the present tragedy.

Take aim, but my name isn't on your bullets.

I am not the object you desire.  But I suppose you think I'm the closest thing to it.  Therefore, I am a sufficient target. 

this is nothing new.  and I am metaphorical Kevlar.




So ready the ammunition and unload.  Though you should really be gunning for yourself.

Outstretched Hands: Laying in the lilies.

something glimmers in the dimness.  feels like it was meant to be seen only at that exact second. 

it comes and goes as it pleases.  reminds me that life is beautiful, fleeting.  the colors dance in the distance, just out of reach.

not to taunt, but to inspire.  we strive to reach it, it doesn't occur to us that we never will.

Outstretched Hands: The spark that slumbers.

You're like a poem or a song I never got around to writing.

Beautiful in my mind, but unfinished.

Carried always, so it's never forgotten.  Just in case it would ever somehow find it's way to life.

Stuck between a rock and a bitchy muse

this is utterly frustrating.  it's not at all coming along how I'd like.  and I think my greatest fear, well ok, maybe not THE greatest, but still a big one. (it pertains to my writing.)  I think I somehow lost my "Brian voice" as people call it.  my perspective it totally fucked.  it feels like I'm forcing it, and I think the fic is coming out total shit. 

I don't know what happened.  I had it when I started the damn thing, but now......now it's just *poof* not there.  or repressed?  I have no fucking clue.



& on top of this I think I've pissed off K.  I did not mean to. The thing is, she's brassed off at me for something that A.) I have no idea how she figures this out, and B.) I would never stop doing.

I am so fucked.

the abyss of the precipice, that used to be the fault line.

seen behind the heavy veil of sleep

 an image

 so clear

reality pales in comparison.

this goes one of

2 ways

but if we're being honest it's usually door number two

Ice in the veins

chills down the spine

fear in your heart and sweat on your brow.

You don't get to escape

it always finds you, comes for you.

drugs?

they don't help, much.

that's why falling isn't easy.

no one will catch you.

Night Writer

it's easier to speak of the things we keep hidden in the dark when it's nighttime.  because everything is cast in an inky twilight.  the comfort of black skies, and the barest of illuminations written among the stars, allow an openness not found in the day.  under the harsh light and microscopes. 

we are away from the scrutiny, the judgement. 

whispers only meant to be heard when the world turns to shadow.  soft.  gentle.  soothing.

a greater peace can be found when there is nowhere to look.

Wow. I uh, wow, thank you.

So a co-worker of mine just came out to me last night.  Granted I already knew, but the fact that he trusted me enough (after only knowing me 2 weeks) to come out to me personally was an interesting feeling.  I could tell he is still a bit uncomfortable with saying it outloud, but I think the transaction went well.



"So, we're cool right? I mean I could see us hanging out for a long time, you know?"

"Yep.  Why?"

"Cause there's probably something I should tell you, I want to tell you.  I mean you probably already know, you're in my head all the damn time.  How in the hell do you do that anyway?"

"Magic."

"Right.  So..."

"Yeah I know.  You're cool, I'm cool, we're cool.  Now can you pass the popcorn?"


And just like that, we're solid.  We talked for a long time afterwards, about everything and nothing.  I feel very blessed that he chose to entrust me with this.  I imagine it's not easy at all choosing who to tell.  Sometimes you may think you know what the reaction will be, but it can turn out very differently. 

The strangest part was not that I felt the need, the obligation to reciprocate the trust by telling him about me, as one usually feels when someone reveals themselves to you.  It was that I wanted to reciprocate.  That is not something I feel often, the urge to share.  Really and truly share.  It was weird, foreign, but it also felt right. And I can really see us becoming good friends, lasting friends.  Which would normally scare me, allowing someone to get so close so quickly.  But I feel like he's ok.  He would never hurt me intentionally, if ever at all.  Only time will tell, but I think I'm right on this one.

I wish I knew.

Long gone are the days of sitting on the patio in the setting California sun, talking with my Uncle about everything and nothing.  Our cigarettes the only illumination in the twilight, sharing secrets we never told my mother.  The nights of sipping sweet tea with my Aunt, and watching The Deadliest Catch religiously.  Snuggled in her warm embrace as she petted my hair and made me feel so loved.  Laying out by the pool at 3 in the morning just watching the stars, contemplating on life's mysteries. 

I remember how it felt to leave.  We just sat around all day, willing time to stop.  Not much was spoken, but everything was said.  I knew it was a bad idea, leaving.  I knew that if I went I wouldn't be back for a long time, if ever.  But I did anyway.  On days like this I try to pull back the gloom and remember what it felt like to be in the sun.  We were different people.  Jubilant, warm, and free.  Not anymore.  I'm here now, and I can't recall why.  What was the reason?  And I cry.  I wish I knew.  I wish I knew why I did this to myself.

I could probably give lessons...

The curtain closes, and you'd do well to ignore the man behind it.

Sideways. But hey, it's still an angle.

I believe that things happen for a reason.  And in some cases we may never find out that reason, but I still believe there was one.  There has to be.  If not, if everything is random and without meaning, then what is there to live for?  What purpose would there be?  To live in world where everything that happened to you, everything you've done, had no point whatsoever.  No end game.  No, that is not a world I could not believe in.

And maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe it all really is capricious and irresolute.  BUT, what if I'm right?  I may never really know, none of us may never really know.  However, I do know that finding your own personal meanings in life and all that goes with living; is far more impactful than wandering around aimlessly with belief in nothing. 

And I DO NOT mean this in a religious context.  Though I'm sure it could be perceived as such. But if it correlates you in that context, it's not my position to shoot you down.  Like I said, personal meanings.

There is so much more that I want to say.  So much more in my head that I feel important to relate.  But words fail me. So I guess maybe I'm not supposed to tell it all.  Leave conclusions to be drawn, as it were.

I can't seem to find a way to end this neatly.  But life never is, so it would stand to reason that this shouldn't be either.

life lessons, via animal crackers

My bear is missing an arm.  But that doesn't make him any less delicious, or appealing, to my grumbly tummy in this midnight hour.  The elephant, lion, and the camel seem to be in a heated argument involving who will occupy what space in the bowl.  *tense like whoa*  Meanwhile the chocolate soy milk is just chillin' off to the side, waiting to be called to duty after I swallow this thing.  I say thing b/c it could be a manatee or maybe a seal?  IDFK it's a pretty amorphous shape, but it fills the void.

And then there were three.  Which in my current state strikes a chord.  Holy fuck, I'm crying over animal crackers.  REALLY?  Damn.  I'm NOT a cryer.  Mostly because I feel it's a sign of weakness.  Not to say those who do cry are weak.  I'm saying to me, personally, it makes me feel weak when I can't control my emotions.  But it seems over these past few days that's all I've been doing.  Well that, pacing the floor, and sleeping so much that I thought I was sick.  (Sleep does not come easy to me, and when I do sleep it comes at a price.  But the nightmares are another blog entirely, so we'll just skip that for now.)  Anyway.


Now for some reason I think back to the elephant, lion, and camel.  Was their argument ever resolved?  If so, who won?  And I'm struck.  It doesn't matter.  They all went to the same place anyway, so it's a moot point.  Instead of arguing before, they could've been rejoicing that they still had space to argue over.  Still alive and kickin', albeit kicking each other..........but I digress.


So here I am.  Staring into the bowl and it's occupants.  I find myself unable to submit the final three to their demise in an acid-y pit of doom.  They need to be together in the bowl; where they fit so perfectly back to back.  Though they may seem like an odd trio, I have it on good authority that they get along famously. 

is that a light?

It's amazing the perspective you can gain just by stepping completely away from something for 24 hours. I am now 100% sure of two things.  Two people, rather.  They have never asked me for anything, but have always supported me, and been there for me when I needed them.  Long ago I might've choked on these words if not said in a joking context.  But I love them.  We have been through a lot together in such a short amount of time, and I'm not sure how I would've dealt with it all if not for them.  I can only hope that I have been even half of what they've been to me.  They are two of the most amazing people in the world and I feel grateful and blessed to have met them & have them in my life.  (even if in an unconventional capacity)  And I hope the both of you know it. 

2 steps forward and 18 steps back.

I am tired.  I feel weighted.  I think maybe I've had enough?  Yes.  This is exactly the reason why I stopped getting close to anyone.  Because if I trust you, I trust you with my life.  And then you can kill me.  Which is about how I feel right now.  Dead.  I don't know which way to turn, who to believe.  I have put my trust where I can't see it, who it truly belongs to and now because of that I can't trust myself. 

My face burns with shame and this waterfall of saline rushing over it does nothing to soothe.  In fact it is making it worse.  I can't even recall the last time I cried.  And now I can't seem to stop.  I feel sick.  The last time I felt like this was 2 years ago.  I couldn't stand myself so much then, that I ran away and became someone new.  I'm almost at the point to where it hurts too much and I'm ready to shut off. 

I need to step back and re-evaluate EVERYTHING.

I have no idea where I am. 



and I'm scared

shadows

ones we lie in to escape the heat
ones we're covered in, cowering under
ones that appear merely to give contrast to the light in our lives
Some so faint you can barely see them.  But felt always.

weighted they hold us down
cloaked in safety, lift us up.

If you follow the darkness long enough, you will find illumination.

sometimes never

Will this hinder my voice?  By being open have I, in turn, closed myself off?  Is this the reason for my lack of inspiration?  Did I subconsciously, out of fear of becoming too free, sabotage myself?

Why am I asking questions when I already know the answers?  I hate self-analysis.  Yet here I am, doing just that.  Does this even get me anywhere???? Or am I just walking circles around my head? 

Again with the questions.  Maybe I'm writing them out b/c I know I will never ask them otherwise, I will never look closer. 

Maybe it's not all labyrinthine and dark as originally thought, maybe it's just simplicity in all it's beauty.

*snort* yeah right, I only said that b/c it makes it seem like I actually know what the fuck I'm talking about.

And I only said that to make you think I don't.

So, pray tell, which is it?

The left

or the right

bottom

or top

Explain yourself without saying anything

Because in my world it's always easier done than said.

*

Set the world on fire

I am here

We are set ablaze

We are burned apart

We are fused back together

The same

The opposite

The parallel

The eternal never

Wants, needs, haves.

Try, fly, die.

All we are

here

Points for the pointless

Weighing on my mind lately has been the struggles my brothers and sisters have been going through.  Their own families withdrawing their love, compassion, loyalty, and respect.  I am unable to truly imagine what they must feel, but I can speculate.  Pain, anger, fear, sadness.   But I would think what one would feel most of all is betrayal.  These people are your blood, shared their lives with you, they are supposed to love you unconditionally.  But it turns out to be a lie.  It's unconditional as long as you love who they say it's "ok" for you to love. 

faintly

something subtle, it starts.  even less discernable when it ends.

gentle.  slow.  whispered.  gone.

it's not always how you think it.  or even what you think.  it's the when that counts.





and for the most part people have really shitty timing.

I stab myself repeatedly

This is surrounded by a thousand knives pointing out at me.  Saying "keep away", yet I still lean in closer...impaling myself to catch a glimpse.  Curiousity.  I struggle against my body's response, against my mind's logic.  Another inch closer, I know the cut is deeper.  It's one of those wounds that you don't feel until later.  Until after the knife is removed, and your blood comes rushing out.  Two years.  Almost two years and not a word.  And now this.  Still nothing is uttered.......but there is a connection again, however tenuous.