For CH

Always a parallel step
A familiar scene
Or feeling relived
Perhaps you know...
You intrigue me
Dreams do no justice
To your demeanor
Let us confide in one another
Alone
Presence and passion captivate them

Intellect and conscience neglected, unseen
Beneath

I feel your sincerity
And I am smitten
As a friend enamored
Stay with me gently
Held close
As a friend true

When Insides are Out

fa·tal·ism
n.

1. The doctrine that all events are predetermined by fate and are therefore unalterable.
2. Acceptance of the belief that all events are predetermined and inevitable.

fa·tal·ist
n.

1. One who maintains that all things happen by inevitable necessity.
2. Anyone who submits to the belief that they are powerless to change their destiny.

That's not how I want to feel...

Every action scratches me. Downtrodden. Each sound is noise in my ears. My every thought seethes. Calm waters seem like shattering glass. Familiar words razors. I want to shut myself behind a door where no one else can go. It wells not from hate or paranoia, but from raw exposure. I awoke bruised and ripped. From what I know not, but I need to retreat and heal. Lest I damage myself more.

The whole of me sits upon my lap in plain view. I cannot protect it. I cannot hide it.

I feel brash, rude, and uncalled for.

I feel no need to apologize.

I feel useless.

That's not how I want to feel...

In Between

It was so long
with no movement
the seas still
no hole to fill
a world eternal, unflawed
so perfect...

silent
untouched

emotion is born
the world ripped apart

Nostalgia or Preparation?

I feel as if I'll drop a thought if I don't write something this morning. I feel antsy, just like most mornings.

I've been thinking about the past (when am I not?). Today specifically I've been listening to some old, nostalgic music. Thinking about what it meant to me years ago; comparing it to what it means to me now. Memories flow through more current thoughts, relating values and lost feelings.

So many songs:
The first cd I bought of my own volition, even though others I valued didn't care for it. The songs that make me think of old friends now lost or gone away. Ex-lovers. The voices I swooned over and cried for. The words I still remember--repeating them now reminds me not only of my own growth and change, but of the world's changing landscape. I'm not one of the kids anymore.

More often now I realize that I'm not as overly-nostalgic as I thought I was. I don't run around in reverse, I have blinders on. I see little but that which lies ahead of me. Reflection is necessary to understand what will come. The future is endless and finite. While I do dwell on events from the past, it's from a desire to understand what must happen. How does it fit together?

On Dreams

How can you see from the windows of dreams? All sense slips asunder, relegated to memories of order. Laws anew flourish and mutate. Scenarios ponder, worship, and cry. Parts are played by masters and slaves, though not as one would reason. Reason feels foreign upon a dream's fragile frames. Encounters unscripted. Worlds without end. Pens plumb subconscious depths to publish only a piece of what hides. Existence and persistence rules by curiosities and fears.

Dreams are borne of the night. Shadows of the sane. Residents of the reverse. A mockery of the mundane.

Untitled

All will see
All will see
clearly, so clearly
finally in tune
into the light
shedding superficial sacks
All will see

The Ever-present Itch

Oh, what an itch it has become!
It nags, unreachable, inherent, and irreversible
pulling at every thought and purpose
distracting my attention
disrupting all endeavors
branding each day
dissolving the frame
breaking and sealing each bond
after all is gone, it will remain