I am not used to this The familiar The regular The…normal…?
I create like a fiend when I am hungry and thirsty and hurting But what about when I am contented, trusting and safe? It’s hard to write that word, “safe”. I never really believe it, but I’m gonna fake it ‘til I make it This time
You inspire me to inspire myself To try To see beyond the near horizon To perhaps go where no me has gone before Because you love me And seemingly all the Mes I had created to throw at someone willing to accept the challenge You laugh Tickle Smile Embrace And it’s not the fleeting warmth of a brief sexual encounter It’s the nicknames The thoughtfulness It’s laughter from our guts at the same time because of a look on my face or words we’ve said And we laugh HARD Together Together Together
And maybe all the faraway places we want to go are fantasy And maybe all the plans we hope to make will end up little more than a cozy home we never leave Either way I’m so much more with you Than I ever was Alone in my two bedroom
I don’t know if I can create the way I did Because I don’t see the world the same anymore (honestly, who does?) But your kisses and grins and sweet presence Your comfort Make me think maybe the words don’t always have to come from a place of pain Maybe I have more Me to discover Maybe there is something beautiful in some mundanity Some regular familiarity When you’re not just surviving You can become something really beautiful
Impatient doesn’t begin to describe it My blood is infected You kissed my soul I am forever touched So I ache I crave I hunger I am wretched With desire Longing Need to feel your desperation flowing The way mine runs in your direction The waiting Is unbearable I am angry and wet Inconsolable Until your hands are on my neck I am thinking only in moans Words are useless
But I need them just as much They’re like a song You can sing to me I’ll give you my harmony But I don’t know if I can hold the notes This is too long to go like this We have only been able to speak in whispers Of what will be
I can’t hear you Loud enough I can’t feel you in my head I miss your touch I can’t see your body joining with mine The heat on your skin in flush I can’t taste you in my mouth Oh my love
Memory foam I sit upon bears the weight and prologue of chronicles we have begun to write The creaking of the frame beneath us is only me tonight I feel you acutely I could tell you this but I want to let you sleep
The scent of you in a bright plaid shirt you left behind precisely for me to have some part of you here Along with your sport coat Hanging where I can sit and stare
I sat on the bed with the shirt in my hands Face buried in Breathing Seeking the scent I find when my face is buried in your chest I haven’t felt you in these hands for a week Our bodies bridged in longer still I haven’t taken relief To contend with the ache that is me When was the last time I wanted someone inside my skin like this?
The digital casts we scribble around our pictures The tickling phrases and giggles and teases I smile and laugh and grin and smirk with you and for you and because of you Near tears at the sweetness you constantly reveal You are everything dear And soon near to me My heart fills up and explodes and mends and fills up over and over I write the words here instead of keeping you from REM, baby
When you wake you will give me words again “Words to memorize, words hypnotize” Words from songs we have already been singing to each other And all our lives Now entwined Perfectly Because we are crazy perfect together
I would say all these things to you in white type on blue talk bubbles with emoji hearts and kisses But you need rest, striker. My thoughtful one Thinker Idealist muse-loving muse saying my name out loud as you fade into slumber
good night good nights to come histories to write worlds to conquer traveling time and space and infinite combinations of our union As we go I am yours, my extragalactic, multiversal being In this version of forever
What if you wrote something while your brains were drunken? What if you were too sauced to make sense of all your jumbled thoughts? Should you say a single word? If you did would it make matters worse? What matters? Must you blather?
I know… How about the weather? It’s wet in my glass Doesn’t make my brain work better Maybe my tongue tastes like leather
Whips and chains! Who said that? Only an XX refrain Drinking in a chat Alongside my good prose gone bad
We’re floating our boats As the “poet” makes garbled notes Can a note even be “garbled” It should probably be garbaged On a night like this We would be remiss When one’s brain function is missing Soaked in rum and longing
But we will not speak of such things We will not even think We will shut our mouths and then open them and DRINK!
I’ve said it in professional spaces: I’m good at breaking things.
I meant it. I am. I will fiddle and noodle and figure out how to make something work poorly or stop working all together. Because someone always breaks stuff So I’d like to preempt it So it can be secured. improved.
Cut to me personally; Samesies
I don’t love it though.
I do these things because I can’t help it But I watch from Behind my eyes In terror “STOP!! DON’T DO IT!!” And my hand is on the keys My fingers on the buttons The ink is flowing I open my mouth The words come Rocks at a glass house Spoons in the garbage disposal Nails in tires
And it’s out of my hands What comes next I can only watch it unfold The disappointment The anger The misunderstanding The leaving
I tweak I tinker I provoke And then it’s over before I can say “please wait” Or “that’s not what I meant” Or ”I’m sorry. Please let me explain”
It’s a swift and immediate reaction When buttons are pressed in the correct combination Notice I didn’t say “right” Because it’s so wrong I bite my tongue in the anguish of knowing it could happen again at any time
This talent is a curse perhaps even a disease I certainly feel sick
Self sabotage is emotional ipecac
I need something for the pain …that I cause …that I invite …that I sustain
But how do I fix? How do I cure? How do I resolve the fear that propels me to seek the cracks that I will exploit when left unchecked?
I need help to discern between the things that need breaking and what I should keep close to me
Where reading free verse and the idea of becoming that experience intersects with the rare and contradictory state of not needing to know or be anything.
The Truth And Purpose 