Saturday, March 9, 2013
And all my writing is deluded
And all my hopes are false
Trying not to grasp
Trying to kill the desire inside of me
But it's difficult
When I'm not sure what I'm reaching for
Or what I want
A lighthearted conversation turned suddenly real
My head thrust into turmoil with one sentence
Then pushed quickly out the door
Not allowed any more razor-sharp words
To cut through the gordian knot that instantly formed
In the hollows of my skull
Left with the frostbitten fingers of my own thoughts
And the shaky hands of my morality, ravaged by time and toxins
Unable to get to the center
Because each pull at one side
Only tightens the rest
Sometimes revealing new snarls, too
I wish I knew where to find a torch
So I could burn the entire thing to ash
And watch it drift off on the wind
Never to see it again
3.09.2013
3.05.2013
#23.5
c. November 2012, March 2013, May 2013 & Sunday, July 14, 2013
[I think this is as finished as it's going to get, unless I'm able to flesh out the surrounding events into a short story the way I want to - you shouldn't read this; it's too faux-explicit and too personal]
[I think this is as finished as it's going to get, unless I'm able to flesh out the surrounding events into a short story the way I want to - you shouldn't read this; it's too faux-explicit and too personal]
Blink (A Passionately Calculated Decision)
"Hey, can I talk to you about something?" I say.
A moment's hesitation, a slightly worried look, then, "Yeah, okay."
"Cool. Wanna come outside with me? I need a cigarette."
Blink.
Sitting on the porch, in the middle of a sentence:
"...and I'm not gonna get weird or depressed or anything, I'll be okay if you say no, it's just been on my mind a lot recently and I didn't even want to bring this up because I didn't want to make things awkward because you're my best friend and I wouldn't trade that for anything but I've been thinking about it and... fuck, do you maybe wanna try dating?"
A surprised look, then, "No!"
Was that exasperation in her voice? Pity? Simple shock? I couldn't tell.
Blink.
An unexpected query from her:
"Do you want to kiss me?"
"What? Seriously? Yeah... yeah, I really do."
She leans into me. I drop my cigarette and respond in kind. Our lips meet. I pull her closer.
Blink.
Still kissing. Harder now. Her bottom lip in my teeth, then mine in hers. Biting, pulling, a slight pain, yet one I don't mind in the least.
"Did you bring protection?"
"What? ...no, no I didn't," a pause to take a gasping breath. Fuck, why can't I be like other guys and think that something like this might actually happen?
"But I wish I had now."
Blink.
"God, I'm so tempted to say, 'Fuck it,' and go do this."
A moment of stunned silence. There's no way that means what I think it means. This isn't happening. She's talking about something else. Don't get your hopes up. This isn't happening.
Blink.
Upstairs, in a stranger's bed. Still kissing.
"You promise you'll pull out, right?"
"Of course. Don't worry."
"Okay."
Then, suddenly, she's naked with the exception of her bra. I'm immobile. This is happening. Three years, much of which has been filled with heartache and bullshit, and this is finally, actually happening. (and this happening isn't the important part [though it is, at least a little] - it's the trust it takes to get here)
"Come on," she says softly, gently breaking me from my trance.
Blink.
A confusion of thighs, lips, hands, breasts, breath, tongues, teeth. My mouth alternately on her neck, her mouth, then the one place I was sure I'd never see. Hands in my hair, pulling, panting, saying my name. Asking, almost begging me.
Blink.
And everything is over. Or, it should have been. Tragically (or was it), my spirit is willing but my flesh is so weak. Traded apologies and comforts. Lips still pressing together occasionally, but now a faint air of disappointment that things didn't come to fruition. And for the life of me, I swear it isn't just my own disappointment, despite everything that happened later.
Blink.
Downstairs, filling a glass with water. Drinking it. To the computer to try and make things work. This is my only chance and I know it. Footsteps on the stairs cut my plans short.
"Hey, you all right? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just finishing my water."
"Okay, good. Wanna come back upstairs?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
Blink.
The flame ignites. She inhales, then beckons me closer, lungs still full. She opens her mouth; I do too. Pushing her mouth against mine, she breathes the smoke past my teeth, over my tongue, and into my own lungs. A prolonged moment, then I exhale what little smoke is left.
She grins at me. "My turn."
I gladly return the favor.
Blink.
Rising from the bed, heading to the adjoining bathroom to clean the pipe. I reach the threshold, then:
"Hey, come back for a second."
I turn, smiling, and see her smiling back at me as I walk towards her.
"What?"
"What do you think?"
Our smiles widen as a glint enters her eye. Our lips meet anew.
Blink.
Once again entwined on the bed. Loud, quick breaths between kisses. My hands roaming over her body. Nervous, excited, happy. Hoping to God this works now. Trying anything I can think of, asking for things I normally wouldn't have asked for the first time but desperately reaching out for anything that will make this happen. She's making soft noises below me and Christ, I need this to happen now because it will never happen again, a fact I'm keenly aware of and doing my best to ignore. It's not working. None of this is.
Blink.
Yet again all the excitement dissipates, leaving a cold void of expectation in its wake.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"I'm tired."
"Yeah, me too. Should we just go to sleep?"
"Yeah."
She rolls over on her side. I do the same, wrapping my arm around her, putting my hand on top of hers, interweaving our fingers.
"Thank you," she says.
Blink.
Exhausted but afraid to sleep. I don't want to miss a minute of this because these occurrences are so rare. I'm afraid that after tonight, this will be the last one. I lay there, feeling her breathing slow and become more regular, trying to make my own fall in sync, alternately opening and closing my eyes, feeling tired but too electric, too nervous to sleep.
Blink.
Sleep must have come at some point, however, because movement from her side of the bed wakes me an indeterminate amount of time later. It's still dark, so I couldn't have been asleep too long. I rub my eyes, open them to find her getting out of bed, putting her underwear and shorts back on. I didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep without them. She climbs back into bed and curls up next to me again. I put my arm back around her, hold her hand. I close my eyes, and though it seems like it takes forever, I finally drift off into black, dreamless sleep for good.
Once again entwined on the bed. Loud, quick breaths between kisses. My hands roaming over her body. Nervous, excited, happy. Hoping to God this works now. Trying anything I can think of, asking for things I normally wouldn't have asked for the first time but desperately reaching out for anything that will make this happen. She's making soft noises below me and Christ, I need this to happen now because it will never happen again, a fact I'm keenly aware of and doing my best to ignore. It's not working. None of this is.
Blink.
Yet again all the excitement dissipates, leaving a cold void of expectation in its wake.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"I'm tired."
"Yeah, me too. Should we just go to sleep?"
"Yeah."
She rolls over on her side. I do the same, wrapping my arm around her, putting my hand on top of hers, interweaving our fingers.
"Thank you," she says.
Blink.
Exhausted but afraid to sleep. I don't want to miss a minute of this because these occurrences are so rare. I'm afraid that after tonight, this will be the last one. I lay there, feeling her breathing slow and become more regular, trying to make my own fall in sync, alternately opening and closing my eyes, feeling tired but too electric, too nervous to sleep.
Blink.
Sleep must have come at some point, however, because movement from her side of the bed wakes me an indeterminate amount of time later. It's still dark, so I couldn't have been asleep too long. I rub my eyes, open them to find her getting out of bed, putting her underwear and shorts back on. I didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep without them. She climbs back into bed and curls up next to me again. I put my arm back around her, hold her hand. I close my eyes, and though it seems like it takes forever, I finally drift off into black, dreamless sleep for good.
3.02.2013
#23
Thursday, September 1, 2011
I sit
Reading your poetry
Tobacco in my lower lip
Filling myself with low-grade alcohol
Trying not to feel anything
And also trying to feel the way I used to feel back when I first met you
Wishing I could write the way you do
Symbolism and metaphor
Big words I understand and have no idea how to use
Realizing now that you are so much more than I ever knew
That you are so much more than I will probably ever know
Realizing that my scars have not fully healed
The way I thought they had
That right now, I'm reopening old wounds
And for what?
Because I want to understand you?
Yes
But why?
Because part of me still wants to be with you
No matter how hard I try to kill that part of me
To throw it off a cliff and watch it shatter on the ground below
To hang a noose around its neck and kick at the chair
To force-feed it sleeping pills
And put a plastic bag over its head
I hate this
I hate the fact that I'm writing this
The fact that I speak in cliches I've been using forever
That everyone has been using forever
That I have no sense of rhythm or rhyme
That I'm only able to speak in common language
And write in freeform verse
I feel like the Hemingway of poetry right now
And I can't fucking stand Hemingway
I want to be cryptic, want to seem obscure and thoughtful
But I can't write like that
I can't write the way you can
And of course, I've made it about me again
That's all I ever seem to be able to write about
And then I comment on it in my own writing
Fuck, I'm stupid
I never should have started this
And as much as I want you to see this
I know you never will
======
I keep trying to see myself in the things you write
But I know that's wishful thinking
I sit
Reading your poetry
Tobacco in my lower lip
Filling myself with low-grade alcohol
Trying not to feel anything
And also trying to feel the way I used to feel back when I first met you
Wishing I could write the way you do
Symbolism and metaphor
Big words I understand and have no idea how to use
Realizing now that you are so much more than I ever knew
That you are so much more than I will probably ever know
Realizing that my scars have not fully healed
The way I thought they had
That right now, I'm reopening old wounds
And for what?
Because I want to understand you?
Yes
But why?
Because part of me still wants to be with you
No matter how hard I try to kill that part of me
To throw it off a cliff and watch it shatter on the ground below
To hang a noose around its neck and kick at the chair
To force-feed it sleeping pills
And put a plastic bag over its head
I hate this
I hate the fact that I'm writing this
The fact that I speak in cliches I've been using forever
That everyone has been using forever
That I have no sense of rhythm or rhyme
That I'm only able to speak in common language
And write in freeform verse
I feel like the Hemingway of poetry right now
And I can't fucking stand Hemingway
I want to be cryptic, want to seem obscure and thoughtful
But I can't write like that
I can't write the way you can
And of course, I've made it about me again
That's all I ever seem to be able to write about
And then I comment on it in my own writing
Fuck, I'm stupid
I never should have started this
And as much as I want you to see this
I know you never will
======
I keep trying to see myself in the things you write
But I know that's wishful thinking
1.01.2013
#22
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
(Mostly) sober crying
Sat in my room
A cat, a beer, and a song on repeat
The way I've spent this day the last four years
And despite everything that's happened since then
I'm still the same
Still not over you
(Mostly) sober crying
Sat in my room
A cat, a beer, and a song on repeat
The way I've spent this day the last four years
And despite everything that's happened since then
I'm still the same
Still not over you
12.04.2012
#21
Monday, December 3, 2012
December fog creeps in
And settles over everything
Enveloping the landscape and obscuring it from view
My depression does the same
(a re-used metaphor - so uncreative)
Working its way into the deepest crevices of my mind
I try to displace it with smoke
Try to fill in the space with various poisons
Try to ignore the fact that it's there altogether
Anything to keep me from wallowing in it
But these measures are all so temporary
So very fleeting
Because eventually I always end up back here
Stumbling blind through the fog
Searching for a light that won't go out
A mixed metaphor, perhaps
But why not confuse my writing
When it fits so comfortably with the rest of my life?
======
It's so hard to be comfortable on my own
When everything reminds me of you
Music, books, restaurants
This entire city itself
Every street we've driven is mapped out in my memory
I need only to glance at an intersection we've travelled through
And dozens of memories come rushing forth of every conversation we've had there
Along with the emotions attached to them
I still remember where we were when you told me you were having one of the best nights of your life
Even though all we did was drive around, get high, and listen to music
And I still remember how happy and content that made me feel
What happened to us?
To me?
December fog creeps in
And settles over everything
Enveloping the landscape and obscuring it from view
My depression does the same
(a re-used metaphor - so uncreative)
Working its way into the deepest crevices of my mind
I try to displace it with smoke
Try to fill in the space with various poisons
Try to ignore the fact that it's there altogether
Anything to keep me from wallowing in it
But these measures are all so temporary
So very fleeting
Because eventually I always end up back here
Stumbling blind through the fog
Searching for a light that won't go out
A mixed metaphor, perhaps
But why not confuse my writing
When it fits so comfortably with the rest of my life?
======
It's so hard to be comfortable on my own
When everything reminds me of you
Music, books, restaurants
This entire city itself
Every street we've driven is mapped out in my memory
I need only to glance at an intersection we've travelled through
And dozens of memories come rushing forth of every conversation we've had there
Along with the emotions attached to them
I still remember where we were when you told me you were having one of the best nights of your life
Even though all we did was drive around, get high, and listen to music
And I still remember how happy and content that made me feel
What happened to us?
To me?
9.04.2012
#20
Monday, September 3, 2012
"I wish I had more friends," she said, and the second thing I thought was, "I don't."
"I wish I had more friends," she said, and the second thing I thought was, "I don't."
8.08.2012
#19
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Almost one week
And the contentment has turned
Slowly but steadily
Into anxiety and fear
Day by day
I can feel the doubt and the dark thoughts
Trying to force their way forward again
Despite my best attempts
To ignore
To rationalize
To look on the bright side
(as if there is one -
because like the Sacred Chao
every bright side has a dark side as well
and vice versa)
To numb
It seems like nothing will work
So terrified that an attempted mistake
Will ruin the best part of my life
A mistake I've wanted to happen for more than three years
But now, clearly, a mistake all the same
...and a mistake I'm afraid I'd only hesitate briefly
Before making again
Almost one week
And the contentment has turned
Slowly but steadily
Into anxiety and fear
Day by day
I can feel the doubt and the dark thoughts
Trying to force their way forward again
Despite my best attempts
To ignore
To rationalize
To look on the bright side
(as if there is one -
because like the Sacred Chao
every bright side has a dark side as well
and vice versa)
To numb
It seems like nothing will work
So terrified that an attempted mistake
Will ruin the best part of my life
A mistake I've wanted to happen for more than three years
But now, clearly, a mistake all the same
...and a mistake I'm afraid I'd only hesitate briefly
Before making again
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)