K-2

I used to be so loyal when I was younger

Before I learned litigation, justification

Ways to to out-logic emotion as chemical reactions

Variables, products of circumstances.

There will be others, it’ll feel the same

“The one” is only ‘the one” the stuck around

Or “the one” you haven’t replaced yet.

…With a new smile, new distraction

A new body beneath you.

I used to let my heart love fully

Devotedly, hopelessly

I handed it over willingly,

Without hesitation

Into their hands.

I let it be ripped from end to end.

I told them, “This is yours”

And let the new owner care

Without intervention

But even animals

Are protected from neglection.

I used to dream limitlessly

of the future. Of “us” together

Whomever was the flavor

Or new trending lover.

Playing on an endless loop in my head

My pulse keeping time.

– I took my heart out of storage today.

Blew off the collected dust and criticism.

It had atrophied, calcified

The color faded, optimism dried

There were several pieces missing,

Some hung by merely a string.

It was covered in graffiti.

Names of various unknown claiming territory.

Raised scars, discolored and tender.

It was damaged, lost worth

Outdated, undesired

Beyond repair.

-He said, “Give that to me”

And carried the heart carefully

Gently, both hands cradling

The way one tends to a small bird with broken wings.

I can’t remember how to fly…

I told him he didn’t want it

That he’d hardly known me a week-

 

…To be continued….

 

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Winter’s Coming.

I’m already bored. I’ve become just “there”…

Something you’ve become used to, taken for granted.

Predictable.

It’s normal. It’s tasteless. It’s forced.

It’s disappointing.

I’m just “there”, sucking up the air by your said to make you feel less

on the outside.

I’m starving.


When they’ve forgotten the years I’ve littered Earth

You could always mark the time

By the string of men I’ve played and hurt.


They couldn’t be together if they had to be themselves.


I think you love me because I’m the only one left standing.

While your dreams were burning, they fled your shelter. Now I stand in the ashes of your foundation.

Believing in you wholeheartedly. Waiting for our next step. Loving you when you think there is nothing left to love.

It isn’t me you love… there just isn’t anyone else around.


She said to me, “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in God.”

I told her I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t have Faith.


 She never felt loved, because she never believed she was worth loving.


I don’t love him. I don’t think I love anyone. But it felt nice to pretend for a night… that I could be one of these “nice” girls… with boyfriends, instagrams and families… Something precious, innocent and sweet. Something worth protecting.

I played my part well; the naive, the blameless, the victim, the pure… I covered my scares in a flowing white dress, I said words of love and affirmation with convincing tamber, as if fore the first time. I tightened as he entered me, telling him, “It’s been so long”, “I never do this” “No one has ever been this big, this good, this ___”. 

Meanwhile praying he hadn’t kept count of the Magnums in the drawer, or noticed a golden wrapper catching the moonlight in my trashcan.

Sometimes I feel like that trashcan.

Strangers. Lovers. Enemies. Friends. Liars.

Because we weren’t official, does that mean I can’t mourn the loss of you?

Because you aren’t mine, does that mean I can’t seethe seeing you live, just fine, without me?

Because so much time has existed before me and will go on, without interruption, upon my unexpected exile, does that mean I am alone in feeling like our time together was significant?

Can I have, and lose, something that I never had permission to call mine?

I want my life story to be more than the bars I solicited, conversations tainted with alcohol and too hazy to recall, men that have entered and exited my life.

I can’t stand the sound of your voice, and it’s the only comfort I’ll take. Like cream in my coffee… you’re familiar, you’re an addiction, I hate you, you’re killing me, and I need you… and all you give me in return are momentary thrills, as I work to fight off the side effects as soon as you’ve left me. I’m thirsty.

I can’t believe I won’t even be a footnote in the book of your life…. You were so important to me. Mountainous change. Profound experiences and lessons. Loving and fighting and laughing and living passionately.

But there aren’t even pictures. There isn’t even proof of the scars you’ve left behind. This mess I’ve had to clean on my own. There is no evidence that I was ever a name on your breath, a waist in your arms, a taste on your tongue, an image in those goddamn brown eyes.


It’s not fair how quickly I disappeared from you. How deeply you cut into me.


I start keeping time with you.

850 days since our first kiss.

139 days later, I left you for the first time.

Nearly a year since I saw you last.

 

You became my compass.

He is 400 miles North.

He is 13,000 miles East.

I left my heart 700 miles South West of here.

My memories are a 15 hour drive away.

My identity is a 3 hour plane ride.

… my life is far gone…


I’ve learned to live without you, but you’re always just a breath away… a lonely night. An extra shot of whiskey. A New York skyline, a zydeco band, a salty Bahama ocean breeze. A whisper of your name, a familiar tune on the radio, a memory as I walk the streets of Manhattan.


A Facebook notification flashes the news:

EXTRA! EXTRA!

HE’S FINE. HE’S LIVING WITHOUT YOU, HAPPILY, NOT THINKING ABOUT YOU.YOU’RE NOT IMPORTANT. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SHARE.  YOU’VE GAINED WEIGHT. YOU’RE NOT DOING MUCH IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW. SHE’S PRETTIER THAN YOU. SHE’S FITTER THAN YOU. THEY ALL ARE. YOU’RE BORING. NOTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY IS NEW. YOUR WRITING IS DULL AND UNINVENTIVE. YOU’RE ALMOST 25 AND UNEXCITING.  YOU HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER. TO THE INTERNET. TO HIM. TO YOURSELF. TO THE WORLD. NO ONE NOTICED THAT YOU’RE NOT EVEN THERE. YOU WEAR YOUR HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE. YOU ARE ALONE IN YOUR AFFECTION AND THE ONLY FEELINGS YOU CAN EVOKE IN OTHERS ARE PHYSICAL. YOU’VE SERVED YOUR PURPOSE AND NOW HE’S GONE. IT’S A REPETITIVE PROCESS AND IT NEVER ENDS… YOU’RE STUCK IN A CYCLE OF FEELING AND EMOTING AND RELEASING AND BECOMING VULNERABLE… AND IT CRASHES AND BURNS AGAIN. IT CAN’T BE GENUINE IF IT HAPPENS EVERY TIME.

…DID I MENTION YOU’RE FAT NOW? THAT HIGH CAMERA ANGLE ISN’T HIDING YOUR DOUBLE CHIN AND LOVE HANDLES. NICE TRY. FILTERS AREN’T MAGIC.

Reality, Future, Loneliness and 236 others like this.


 

One-Offs Pt. 2

February 2016

#13

3w3D

Remember when we fell, tumbling, swirling in a twister of young, wild uninhibited love? We couldn’t question it, we didn’t mention it, our hearts were louder than our minds. We could hear the protest of logic against our wild ride.

You and I….

Back when we were “you and I”… attractive, active, fearless and careless.

We were a fucking mess.

Magically, mystically, intertwined and in my mind we were

One.

We trusted. We lusted. We knew everything was okay, everyday. I believed so strongly in you, the things you do. The dreams and things we believed. Wholeheartedly. You and me. We were so magnetic. Energetic. Knetic.

Everyone said. You took my hand and lead. Reassured me. Called me “baby”.

No, we aren’t crazy. Just…. Maybe….

This was it.

Pure. True. Bliss…

What did I miss?

#16

I eat though I am not hungry.

I drink though I am not thirsty.

Maybe because I know I need to fill

All the emptiness inside me.

I take it all on

Fill it to the brim, then cram in more.

Maybe if I shove enough in

I can purge this sickness (sadness) from my core.

I don’t know when it’s enough

I never want to stop

I indulge in you, all of you… addicted to the feeding, unaware of the consequences

Waistline expanding, body rejecting.

Until I am alone, hurting, processing, overindulging, overdosing.

They tell me to stop. They tell me to slow down.

No one can take in and on so much.

You’re what I need to survive and you’re killing me.

#17

A tank full of gas, a heart full of adventure.

24 years down, 360 miles to go…

#20

Scar tissue disguised and decorated as battle scars

Badges of honor. For heroics. For bravery.

Proof I survived you.

Proof that the deepest wounds will close.

Even if it’s too ugly, grotesque to face head-on.  I can heal, too.

Makes your stomach churn to see the mutilation

My complacent self-infliction…Silence lead to my victimization.

The body is merely a vessel.

The soul is indestructable.

My oozing flesh scares them away.

Good.

The wounds will only survive to my saliva.

Self-soothing with a rough, wet, tongue.

Needle and thread. Needle and thread.

Cut me splice me with lies that you said.

Suture the wounds, Sanitize the scene

Close the flesh, you won’t infect me again.

Burn off the ends, watch the memories fall away

Bring life back to the heart tissue; dead, cold gray.

Put on the gloves, handle the old heart with care

Dispose of the biohazard, destroyed beyond all repair.

Needle and thread. Needle and thread.

Hardly alive, but not quite dead.

#1

One look was all it took

To start dreaming with you.

One glance and I’m entranced;

My life has begun anew.

One wink, now I think

What love birds sing is true:

All you need is one, from “The One”

To forever be two.

I’ll never be “just one” again…

Now that I’ve found you.

Deconstructed Devotional of Desire

Deconstructed Devotional of Delusion Desire Denial.

1-12-16. 9 am. Jonas has left piles of snow to my waist on the unplowed streets. We sit in the only open coffee shop. Alone.

#3

I adore you. All of you. Is all I can dribble out in a sad attempt to find words for this feeling of elation I have just sitting across from you. It’s too soon to fully dive myself into more permanent exclamations, and I have not yet mastered the language well enough to describe feelings that seem bigger than myself.

#6

I forget to introduce you, not because I am ashamed of you… but because I feel like I’ve always known you.

“Who, him? What do you mean, you don’t know him? He is the extension of me. This man is the physicalization of my heart, body, mind. My place of wonder, dreams, contentment. My heart song. My euphoria. My eureka! My realization. My change… I’ve known him all my life.”

…or part of me has. A part of me that has awoken at last.

#5

I have never felt so full. There was always something missing before…

Rarely have I had the pleasure of sitting in complete contentment. I am spoiled by you. I want for nothing. I am not worried, anxious, troubled.

I am here.

Present in the presence of this present I have been given by you.

Bathing in an ocean of gratitude. Nourished in the light of you. The sight of you. “I’m happy just to be with you”, The Beatles chirp in my music box of my mind.

The highlight of my days require no plans or actions, but the freedom of just being with you. Just. BE-ing. Human BE-ing. Sitting in the moment, and enjoying it fully. Seeing color for the first time. Appreciating the love that surrounds me, in everything that we see… you’ve awaken my spirit, you’re my teacher…my guide… my yogi…my savior. I worship you. I could build monuments in your honor.

#4

This future icon of a man. This inspiration. Even the morning son can’t resist kissing your face as you search for your next move in the window revealing mother nature, now blanketed in snow… resting. Anticipating. Your face relaxed. Gorgeous eyes focused on something I can’t see. I want to trace and retrace the lines of your face until my entire body can recite you by heart.

Oh, my heart. She never stood a chance.

How this inspiration can find inspiration in the incomparable waking hours of downtown. The sun only seems more divinely delicious when reflected in your eyes.

I’ve seen the future. My words fail me as I try to describe how alive you make me feel… as if I’ve never known what it is to live until this moment.

#1

I am amazed by how captivated I am sitting across from you at this coffee shop; watching you work. Your creativity sparking with the light of new life in your deep mocha eyes and flowing, uncontrollably (overflowing?) from your fingers as you furiously scribble onto sheets of recycled paper…old invoices, correspondence, venues, contracts…

I love the process. Of you. My favorite is watching the wheels turn. My heart flutters. You leave me for a moment, your mind retreating to a realm in which your dreams are realized and brilliance is born. You take ownership of your deserved success. I’ve never believed in someone so undoubtably. I am taken by the profile across from me, like the oil painting portraits of great men collected and circulated in our history books, protected and displayed in the best museums. I want to study you.

You look out the window for a moment as you go on this journey. I can’t help being caught, entranced by you. This gorgeous profile of a man changing the world. Your eyes reflect the sunlight as she, in turn, highlights the intricacies of your face as if carved by Michael Angelo himself. You are a work of art. Worthy of the heavens.

#3

You are as focused as a soldier going into battle. Fearless as the undefeated commander. Passionate as the patriot. I believe in the cause; in you. I faithfully march to your war drums.

#2

Back and forth, like crashing waves resolving themselves onto shore, you switch from your accelerated writing, hardly keeping up with the speed of thought, then returning to the still, calm waters of deep thought. I feel honored to witness the sacred ritual of creation. You’re brilliant. Your process. Your limitless power. Your active creation of success.

But more than anything. I continue to be floored by this sight before me, evoking both uncontrollable desire/lust and overflowing, ever-grateful adoration.

#7

…I didn’t know this would be our last time together. I protested when you asked me to leave. I supported you endlessly. I don’t understand what you mean when you say I deserve what you can’t give. I didn’t ask for it.

….To Be Continued….

 

A Collection Of Incompletes

#3 – 1/3/16

The terrifying notion was maybe none of it was real, all chemical.

…These moments of euphoric limitless, weightlessness, infinite joy…. were formulaic.

Timed. Predictable. Measurable.

We are creatures of habit. In a desperate pursuit of happiness, we deny our faults and label them “the past”, “change”, “growth”, “transformative”. We hold out for “new beginnings”. Are we truly changing? Have we found something real? of depth? This “true” emotion. Did we “just know” that it was “meant to be”? Are we complete now? Is this it? Is the lifetime search for wholeness finished?

Or are we victims of a build up of lactic acid, legs aching from running away?

Tired. Lonely. Horny….Bored.

It feels so easy to rest our burdens and responsibilities on another. In denying that we still have no fucking clue who we are, or how uninspired our own lives have been, we hide behind the façade of meeting someone new, impressing them…. feeding our glutionous egos with the free-flowing compliments that dribble out of the stupefied victim falling in love with us. A new beginning. “Like” me. Love me. Like a living, breathing Facebook page, I’ll only show you my best angles. Everything goes through my artfully sifted filter, designed to constantly impress and intrigue you. You’ll never know the truth; who I was before. Living for the approval of others. Un able to walk without holding a hand. Unable to live, to adventure, to invent without another. Unable to think without someone ele’s opinion being fed into my ear… non-organic inspiration. A people-pleasure. I’m in the business of making everyone around me happy, saying exactly what they want to hear into their fat heads.

No one knows. No one sees. So happy to be surrounded by self-assurance they don’t even notice that I’m not tangible. An apparition. Translucent. Reflective. Showing them how wonderful and worshipped they are… by me.

Giving them so much, there’s nothing left of me, for me. I don’t know how to just be. Desperate to find another to interact with me. Another to confirm my existence. I don’t know what to think of me without the approval of others. “Tell me what I am”.

 

#3.5 

…..being far more cool and interesting than we ever were alone at home, watching Netflix in our underwear and half-heartedly masturbating while over indulging on foods with absolutely no nutritional value.

#4 – 1/9/16

God, She looked like shit.

There isn’t a better way to put it. This was the girl I remember winning me over with her incredibly tight frame, radiant charm, crystal-blue eyes and soft, plump pout. All eyes always on her. I just wanted to take her hand and drag her to everyone I knew. “Look how beautiful! Can you believe it?! She’s just as crazy about me!”

Late nights smiling uncontrollably just at the memory of her. A reminder of her scent flooded my body with what can only be described as divinity. I clung to her late in the night, refusing to let her go. Hanging on as long as I could. Her angelic face buried deep inot my chest. I was soothed to sleep by he soft purr of her slumber, as her light breath tickled my torso. “It’s so easy”, I thought… I was constantly clown away by her beauty. Waiting to wake up.

I was jolted awake.

Here she was, now, crystal blue eyes looking dull and lifeless, surrounded by a glossy mix of yellow and bloodshot red. A shaky foundation of deep, dark black and purple fought against the lower lids and allowed what little there was of her remaining to peer through. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she wanted to shut out all of the light.

Her once lushes lips were thin, crusted over form lack of use, of hydration. They atrophied into a downward slope of dissatisfaction, fatigue and defeat. Her sweet milk completion had no faded into a malnourished pale , she could almost disappear into the gray winter cityscape, if it weren’t for the various red, dry and aching scabs littered around my former source of inspiration.  The only proof of life in this decaying sight.

She had let herself go… that’s an understatement. Parts of her poked and prodded and tested the threading of her abused, dingy and wrinkled outfit. She spilled out of the top of her jeans, evidence that her shirt failed to disguise as she struggled to keep it below her navel. It fought with her as she violently pulled and tugged at it throughout the night.

Her hair reflected the street light like an oil spill, with small reminders of blonde throughout the long, hardened, neglected mess. It looked wet.

It felt unnecessary to force pleasantries. No one had the energy to deny the wrecked, soiled remnants of a battlefield standing before me. All I could manage to mutter was,

“You made it.”-

January 2016

#5

Why is it “endearing” and “charming” when the inspiration of pop songs are girls who drink coffee late, eat chocolate in the morning, spend all day in bed, take off their heels and refuse to mask their faults… but when I do it, it’s unhealthy, reckless, irresponsible, self-destructive and undesirable?

#7

I’m an overachiever. I enrolled in the advanced courses of Life. I like to study difficult Life lessons and learn them the HARD way.

#6

Dear God, I think I’ve lost him. I felt him leave me. I felt the love and light torn out of me.

I want to give him his space, but I know that’s all he needs to see a life without me… that’s all he needs to see; that he never needed me at all.

#9

She laughed until she cried. She felt both the release and immense anguish upon the realization that she had no idea what the fuck she wanted… no idea what she was doing. She had no idea who she was.

March 2016

#25

I’m itching for an affair… the rush of new infatuation through my veins. Thoughtlessness. Numbness. All pleasure all the time. Lust. My drug of choice.

#26

And then one day it happened:

I woke up one morning-

And forgot to miss you.