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Purveyor
General | Posted 12 years agoWhat is a name,
if we are two stones - one to polish the other?
Not to be crumpled and cast off, like a used sundry,
a paper-towel, the facets and folds stuck together with
human glue.
At what point do I forget the salty
human glue that would drip from your nose
as you lusted over my physical form?
Or the clear intentions that would roll
down your smooth, extended arm
as we tossed and turned?
In that moment, as I close my eyes, my feelings
become the entirety of my experience.
But do I feel for something known, catalogued,
identifiable?
Records
Receipts
Traces to prove anything at all?
Each hard little lump of sleet
stacks upon the last,
and coats a mineral-like stucco.
Encrusted, hand-in-hand, lifeless and frozen-over.
A stasis encases us.
Am I to pry
my torn, sensitive pads away from
your lukewarm adhesion?
Or are you to warm up, and polish yourself off,
and face with indignity the extent to which this is
your experience?
Crafted by the purveyor of a most exclusive understanding?
if we are two stones - one to polish the other?
Not to be crumpled and cast off, like a used sundry,
a paper-towel, the facets and folds stuck together with
human glue.
At what point do I forget the salty
human glue that would drip from your nose
as you lusted over my physical form?
Or the clear intentions that would roll
down your smooth, extended arm
as we tossed and turned?
In that moment, as I close my eyes, my feelings
become the entirety of my experience.
But do I feel for something known, catalogued,
identifiable?
Records
Receipts
Traces to prove anything at all?
Each hard little lump of sleet
stacks upon the last,
and coats a mineral-like stucco.
Encrusted, hand-in-hand, lifeless and frozen-over.
A stasis encases us.
Am I to pry
my torn, sensitive pads away from
your lukewarm adhesion?
Or are you to warm up, and polish yourself off,
and face with indignity the extent to which this is
your experience?
Crafted by the purveyor of a most exclusive understanding?
No Subject
General | Posted 12 years agoTo extend a presence,
so sticky, and suffocating, and to
note such minute details of disinterest.
The scent puts me to sleep, as
that of a strange flower bound to release only
as it wishes.
The weight, he clings not atop my shoulders
But he pulls, tugs, and hangs on my shirt tail stretching
the fibers and pulling the buttons.
When I glance at him, he moves with such
inevitable conviction, to
grow and climb atop, to weigh me down so long as I
hold the stare.
so sticky, and suffocating, and to
note such minute details of disinterest.
The scent puts me to sleep, as
that of a strange flower bound to release only
as it wishes.
The weight, he clings not atop my shoulders
But he pulls, tugs, and hangs on my shirt tail stretching
the fibers and pulling the buttons.
When I glance at him, he moves with such
inevitable conviction, to
grow and climb atop, to weigh me down so long as I
hold the stare.
Sweetheart...
General | Posted 12 years agoWould you call me, dear?
Would you be so kind, as to let you explain my wretched tongue?
Would you let me explain - with all the complicated adjectives I can muster - the being inside me who,
Despite how I pin him up
is just the most selfish, crippled thing?
Who talks so unabashedly,
With such little thought,
About things so very, very devastating to you?
Only to make you feel what's inside him,
Forgetting for a second that it's been coursing through you as a result of his actions?
These things,
Jealousy, pain, anguish, resentment, his fictional little
world turned atop itself.
Being selfish enough,
In that second,
To act as if he deserved to have his voice heard
In the midst of your sobs.
For that's when we're weakest, is it not?
Do we not all look out for ourselves?
Do you not feel what you want to feel, with whom you want to feel it, because
you
Simply desire to?
Do I not desire possession?
What makes us feel "need," when we could have never met one another?
What will we start doing
When we start looking out for each other?
Hm?
Will you desire for me to have what I desire?
Or, rather
Will I desire for you to have what you desire?
What does that silly word mean, anyway........
So
What will we start doing
When we start looking out for each other?
My biggest concern.
And what I'm starting to notice, quite intently.
Is that we struggle because we desire different things,
And it seems that we've pushed each other, somewhat unknowingly
to the point where one of us has to budge first.
Have I moved enough for you, dear?
Have I tried enough?
Because nobody is telling me
When I've tried enough - how do I know?
I should know, right?
Shouldn't it be easy, to tell when I'm "done" with a situation?
It's fucking impossible!
I don't care about the seconds that I "desire" to be rid of this situation.
Because I love you and
I'm not sure to what extent
I'm even deviating from what I desire.
Love transcends desire, does it not?
Do we not look out for the ones we love, because it makes US feel good - to love and be loved?
If I could - and I would with so, so little deliberation - I would simply give you what you need
to have what you desire.
I'd budge in a heartbeat,
without thought.
But I've been taught so much.
And
It hurts so much. So
Is it selfish to stop the hurt,
or is it selfish to let it continue?
I wish I didn't have to decide, for once, really.
I guess this is the problem with living without God.
It really is my fucking choice - and it may not matter either way.
But
Each ticking second of my choice, stress builds
I'm corned and
I just pick something.
I look at it in another light, hours later - but I chose it.
I convince myself, often lie to myself
To help me understand my choice.
It wasn't always like this, I had to make myself do this, and it's only with
a minimally-increasing degree of frequency that I apply this model
But with you, love, I could not cast you out.
I would bawl
and bawl
and bawl at the thought of deliberately hurting you.
Yet that little man inside me,
with his lack of consideration,
has done it with so little thought.
When he stops to think about it; when I stop to think about it
Feelings of a split nature
Cold, hard, unfeeling calculation and
a soft, deep, dark, glutinous pit of indiscernible melts of
Guilt, retrospect, longing, attachment, and a childish yearning for unconditional, affectionate care and
a slurry of control and jealousy congeal
Into something I'm entirely uncomfortable with.
You understand,
what it is to know what you're doing, while not knowing what you're doing
Right?
For us to be happy...
You feel the painful congealed slurry of indecisiveness, too, if not more than I.
You know, so well, that one doesn't simply "pick" a path on a whim.
Because life is short, we pause our thoughts and mental floodgates open where
Everything you could have ever thought about the situation pours in at once,
Yet, we pick them out of the slurry, one-by-one, judging each as best as we can.
At least, that's how it feels to me.
And when we pause our thoughts, or obsess, time moves on
But nothing changes, we just evaluate more answers, one-by-one, out of the slurry.
Resolve doesn't present itself,
It seems a falsity.
Is this why we nose-up
and stall?
Or are we learning to budge?
There is something at work here, between you and I, love,
That I find stronger than desire
Or guilt, or jealousy, or the little man pulling the ligaments that move
my pittering fingers.
And there is, and always will be, a part of me - not
big or little, but changing and adapting and surviving through my remaining experiences - that
Believes that we may see this stronger force at work, and it may
somehow -
we'll figure it out
we'll talk about it
we'll work on it
right? won't we?
- rise above our pools of slag;
of indefinite, indiscernible, emotion-ridden melt,
and realize this force.
Oh, I do hope so, dear.
Would you be so kind, as to let you explain my wretched tongue?
Would you let me explain - with all the complicated adjectives I can muster - the being inside me who,
Despite how I pin him up
is just the most selfish, crippled thing?
Who talks so unabashedly,
With such little thought,
About things so very, very devastating to you?
Only to make you feel what's inside him,
Forgetting for a second that it's been coursing through you as a result of his actions?
These things,
Jealousy, pain, anguish, resentment, his fictional little
world turned atop itself.
Being selfish enough,
In that second,
To act as if he deserved to have his voice heard
In the midst of your sobs.
For that's when we're weakest, is it not?
Do we not all look out for ourselves?
Do you not feel what you want to feel, with whom you want to feel it, because
you
Simply desire to?
Do I not desire possession?
What makes us feel "need," when we could have never met one another?
What will we start doing
When we start looking out for each other?
Hm?
Will you desire for me to have what I desire?
Or, rather
Will I desire for you to have what you desire?
What does that silly word mean, anyway........
So
What will we start doing
When we start looking out for each other?
My biggest concern.
And what I'm starting to notice, quite intently.
Is that we struggle because we desire different things,
And it seems that we've pushed each other, somewhat unknowingly
to the point where one of us has to budge first.
Have I moved enough for you, dear?
Have I tried enough?
Because nobody is telling me
When I've tried enough - how do I know?
I should know, right?
Shouldn't it be easy, to tell when I'm "done" with a situation?
It's fucking impossible!
I don't care about the seconds that I "desire" to be rid of this situation.
Because I love you and
I'm not sure to what extent
I'm even deviating from what I desire.
Love transcends desire, does it not?
Do we not look out for the ones we love, because it makes US feel good - to love and be loved?
If I could - and I would with so, so little deliberation - I would simply give you what you need
to have what you desire.
I'd budge in a heartbeat,
without thought.
But I've been taught so much.
And
It hurts so much. So
Is it selfish to stop the hurt,
or is it selfish to let it continue?
I wish I didn't have to decide, for once, really.
I guess this is the problem with living without God.
It really is my fucking choice - and it may not matter either way.
But
Each ticking second of my choice, stress builds
I'm corned and
I just pick something.
I look at it in another light, hours later - but I chose it.
I convince myself, often lie to myself
To help me understand my choice.
It wasn't always like this, I had to make myself do this, and it's only with
a minimally-increasing degree of frequency that I apply this model
But with you, love, I could not cast you out.
I would bawl
and bawl
and bawl at the thought of deliberately hurting you.
Yet that little man inside me,
with his lack of consideration,
has done it with so little thought.
When he stops to think about it; when I stop to think about it
Feelings of a split nature
Cold, hard, unfeeling calculation and
a soft, deep, dark, glutinous pit of indiscernible melts of
Guilt, retrospect, longing, attachment, and a childish yearning for unconditional, affectionate care and
a slurry of control and jealousy congeal
Into something I'm entirely uncomfortable with.
You understand,
what it is to know what you're doing, while not knowing what you're doing
Right?
For us to be happy...
You feel the painful congealed slurry of indecisiveness, too, if not more than I.
You know, so well, that one doesn't simply "pick" a path on a whim.
Because life is short, we pause our thoughts and mental floodgates open where
Everything you could have ever thought about the situation pours in at once,
Yet, we pick them out of the slurry, one-by-one, judging each as best as we can.
At least, that's how it feels to me.
And when we pause our thoughts, or obsess, time moves on
But nothing changes, we just evaluate more answers, one-by-one, out of the slurry.
Resolve doesn't present itself,
It seems a falsity.
Is this why we nose-up
and stall?
Or are we learning to budge?
There is something at work here, between you and I, love,
That I find stronger than desire
Or guilt, or jealousy, or the little man pulling the ligaments that move
my pittering fingers.
And there is, and always will be, a part of me - not
big or little, but changing and adapting and surviving through my remaining experiences - that
Believes that we may see this stronger force at work, and it may
somehow -
we'll figure it out
we'll talk about it
we'll work on it
right? won't we?
- rise above our pools of slag;
of indefinite, indiscernible, emotion-ridden melt,
and realize this force.
Oh, I do hope so, dear.
constructs
General | Posted 12 years agoI'll be damned if I don't read the book you lent me
And no, I won't give it back until I have
I'll be damned if your soft lips never meet mine again
And no, I won't forget about you when they haven't
And no, I've never forgotten about you
And no, nobody took your place, not even for a second
And no, I'm not done giving you my best
And why, why are things always so damned complicated?
Why do feelings enter my mind, which are out of my control?
Why do I ever look at you with jealous eyes? (Jealousy is awful, isn't it?)
Why can't our souls find peace and solace in one-another - unconditionally?
Are there always conditions?
Do I impose these conditions?
Do I desire what's simply out of my grasp?
(Of course not. My grasp is only a construct. Nothing is within or without of my grasp - only another intricate being attempting to reconcile her feelings for another fragile being)
Why are these feelings bound to a set of physical limitations and rules?
I only hope that you read this.
You know, I do read all of your poems.
And I have for quite some time.
I want nothing more than for you to possess me
Is that wrong?
If you possessed me, and only me, I would be yours for as long as possible.
Why is he then a construct in my head?
Why have I built him up to be anything at all?
Why is everything in my damned head some sort of multi-faceted construct created from analysis, designed for analysis?
Why do I try to fit these constructs into one-another, and draw overall meaning from every single thing?
Can I make it stop?
Please?
I'm tired of working on this damned puzzle in my mind. Won't somebody spell it out for me?
Of course not, that's childish-
I've made choices with a deliberate lack of thought.
To think that my carelessness would keep you up at night,
crawl around in the confines of your mind, pacing and leering at you.
To think that I had done something to really hurt you.
It makes me nauseous.
Are these storms come-to-pass?
I hope so, very much so.
I can feel cool air rushing, thunderheads gathering
I wish to view it all, with my fingers laced between yours
I want nothing more
And no, I won't give it back until I have
I'll be damned if your soft lips never meet mine again
And no, I won't forget about you when they haven't
And no, I've never forgotten about you
And no, nobody took your place, not even for a second
And no, I'm not done giving you my best
And why, why are things always so damned complicated?
Why do feelings enter my mind, which are out of my control?
Why do I ever look at you with jealous eyes? (Jealousy is awful, isn't it?)
Why can't our souls find peace and solace in one-another - unconditionally?
Are there always conditions?
Do I impose these conditions?
Do I desire what's simply out of my grasp?
(Of course not. My grasp is only a construct. Nothing is within or without of my grasp - only another intricate being attempting to reconcile her feelings for another fragile being)
Why are these feelings bound to a set of physical limitations and rules?
I only hope that you read this.
You know, I do read all of your poems.
And I have for quite some time.
I want nothing more than for you to possess me
Is that wrong?
If you possessed me, and only me, I would be yours for as long as possible.
Why is he then a construct in my head?
Why have I built him up to be anything at all?
Why is everything in my damned head some sort of multi-faceted construct created from analysis, designed for analysis?
Why do I try to fit these constructs into one-another, and draw overall meaning from every single thing?
Can I make it stop?
Please?
I'm tired of working on this damned puzzle in my mind. Won't somebody spell it out for me?
Of course not, that's childish-
I've made choices with a deliberate lack of thought.
To think that my carelessness would keep you up at night,
crawl around in the confines of your mind, pacing and leering at you.
To think that I had done something to really hurt you.
It makes me nauseous.
Are these storms come-to-pass?
I hope so, very much so.
I can feel cool air rushing, thunderheads gathering
I wish to view it all, with my fingers laced between yours
I want nothing more
I miss you.
General | Posted 12 years agoI haven't spoken a word to you since you stormed out of my house. But, I haven't been able to think about myself in the same manner since I've been with you. I feel like part of me will always be your little lion cub, and I will always wonder what could've been between us. You opened up a side of me that I wasn't aware I had, and I never properly thanked you for that. So if you see this, Thank You. Please don't just read it and let it go. I know our paths will probably cross again one day, and who knows, maybe I'll be lucky enough to be someone's cub again, probably not yours, but part of me really hopes so. Is that so wrong?
