Sometimes

Sometimes it’s about taking that step back when it all seems so fast and perhaps it’s about refusing to move forward when there’s ill-will on the road. Yet many times I find myself in a saddened stupor and how do I get out? And at times when all looks to be white roses it’s truly bones and snow and something must budge before the road gets trampled with escape.

Drink and Things

You had your drink and I had my things and together it made for turmoil. I was so tired and you full of desire that there was little left to show. Some god must have known how to have thrown in the towel as we sat patiently waiting. Then life caught up and anger welled as we were fraught with tension.

There were little things to hate here and there, yet nothing could equate to the frustrating fares of this life. I only remember hating the drinks and you being done with my things until the next morning.

I’d Lie for Only You

I guess I’ll write to see if I can evoke the thoughts within my heavy head and chest. I guess I’ll see if the world isn’t too dark to face in this tired state of mind. My love is heavy and my eyes are hot and damn it’s hard when the past is dredged up. It’s one of those moments where everything triggers and I just want to move to Portugal. But fuck I learned to love and now I’m scared of what is coming around. I don’t really pray but if I did I’d ask for another day, another dollar but only if I keep the same lover and if he’d know what it’s like to be sad that it wouldn’t be penetrating deep like it does to my core. Will tomorrow be a Brand New day that I can face as I open my windows to let in the sky and a mosquito or too? I guess I’d pray for forgiveness for all of the times that I wasn’t enough and that I decided to give up instead of move onwards into the day that tomorrow could be. It’s a pandemic, really, the way things end up with slight infection catching on and infesting the tendrils leading to the veins coming out of your heart (is that right?). It hurts me to hurt you but fuck am I sad sitting on my bathroom floor under the burning water. Maybe I’ll feel something.

She Left It At That

It was the first day of limited conversation and prophetic longing. The first day at the bed laying in emptiness and hidden worlds of turmoil. It was the 21st day of the year that felt like the last paragraph at the end of a book’s chapter that released its reader on a sad note. It was cold in this room, an iciness in the Florida weather and my daughters of the moon kept their own company. But you see, here I lay thinking of my days and heart shrinking.

Acrimony

I just didn’t mind the aching muscles and tired temples right before the dawn. I wanted to explore new territory and to challenge myself and those around me to be a little nicer. Then extraneous variables somehow seeped into the mix and turned a yellow morning into a cloudy, yet boiling afternoon. I wanted to stand up for myself then—stand on a mountain and let my voice echo my truths and experiences in dealing with angry faces and curdled lips because their voices were acrid and their chests were a graveyard of worms because even they could not get nutrition from that rancor. Who knows? Perhaps I still will let my words crash into their ears like heavy waves against the cliffs, deafening all else.

Witch’s Chant

Underneath the full moon I muster all the strength required of oceans to swish into shores in darkness. The sands by my feet are velvet as my night-lantern guides me from the sky. Goddess power flows through outstretched hands, permeating the salt crystals in the air. My skin glistens with dew and light and within me a light shines outward. A third eye opens and looks steadily into the shadows cast by the moonlight and within me courses knowledge of secret enchantments long-quieted by witches securing the secret of their craft. They tell me know the things I must know. The shadows come into light—moon goddess.

Emptiness

Why do you feel so empty?

You engage in self-care, enjoy small luxuries, and have people who seem to care for you.

Perhaps the devil is in the details with the seemingly available parts of your last statement. Are they truly there and if there are individuals there, do they provide the things you need?

If affections were delivered on a more continuous schedule, would you feel replete or simply satisfied? Do people naturally feel satiated of “love”?

I had hoped to earn the answers to these questions on my endeavors through adulthood, you know, when I was old enough to understand what this all meant. As I matured to recognize what it meant to want this from others as opposed to simply receiving it. It seems almost unseemly that some people have it always while others struggle to wring it out as if they were wringing the juice out of tough-to-squeeze lemons.

How do the people that choose to be lonely manage the excess of feelings that bubble out of the brain and body? I keep looking for comfort in the arms of old friends.

 I left all my significant connections when young, and then I left the newly formed ones after high school as well. Afterwards, I closed the doors on those I lived with for four years…They made me feel like home wasn’t a place, but a community. I recognize that my dark sometimes overpowers my light—I have not learned the secrets to this form of isolation. Where did all the people go and was it my fault that they are no longer there?












Continuum

We all want to feel the peace, but never the chaos, but without chaos we would have no evolution.

So learn a little bit about both ends of the spectrum of life and somewhere within all that you’ll learn how to take it in stride.