Read You

In eclipses, far off night skies of where we've been. They hold a worth that only lonely souls could ever interpret. The seldom seen but even more rare casting of sincerity. Almost as if something had again made its presence, hidden in Loved one's DNA. Or perhaps a story from posterity of charity that existed along the bloodline of the noble. And a descendant becoming inspired by such a story decides to re-ignite a passion once completely buried in deep and forgotten graves. Ironically remembering to not forget to see...what gift, indeed.
Sunset star-spangled banners wave inside the locks of her hair. The color of sailors fright, but not fright for me..I'm too accustomed to fear to be afraid of anything unknown. That color, for me, is flight towards the shallows of far off beach cities. Where horses still roam free and unbroken by civilized man. The steadiness of her hand over her eyes in that intuitive longing gaze. As if squinting intensely at the most elementary answers to her universe, of which I only conceive a dialect. She is her own skeptic and the truest critic of all her theocratic understanding. Doubting the doubt in herself, knowing she's just simply right. She's learning to be comfortable in the mystery of herself. And I just am...;)

And I already have a history of what she's meant to me. My idealism flies true to what atmosphere I honestly don't know. But the feeling is that it makes me forget..its MAKING me forget...

The idealistic value, shall I examine? Or just live? As I feel like doing, of course- It's like swimming in the great lakes and looking down to see the pale blue water illuminate my body, like I'm floating in pepperment tea. Just feels so cool, being a summer month. Those eyes (my God), those eyes. The only set, besides my Fathers, that I beg myself to look away from. As I see only white, she sees so differently. I feel my mind and heart are such a neglected book in a well visited library that she's come across and been intrigued by. Like a billboard we would pass on a road trip listening to amazing music. (You're such a sultry rock star).
She asks, " Why did you think THAT thought? Not objecting, just curious about it."
" I just don't want to waste time. Being its yours or mine or just- time, it shouldn't be wasted, not ever...with you. Although, wasting time with you is better than spending such moments in any other ambiguity, including saving the world. From a dreamers point of view, I've lived a thousand times this story. And all of them are a sideshow to this main stage 'attraction'. Directly now, do you know what it is that you do to me? I mean, when stars start shining in my pupils in that Panera parking lot, my mind travels to a place not ventured. And sometimes, I becon you to just- join me."
She says, " No- I guess I don't."
" Well, let that be a beginning. But only one..."
A screenplay, then? ;)

The Times That Come So Hard

There are pictographs...everywhere, in  everything. The street signs, the labels in clothing, the posthumous happenstances between man and woman meeting for the millionth time on the street in constant orbit. Think about it, yourself. See if there a few that you watch everyday but let escape you. Now look at the artwork, after staring at them for more than the time you know you can't afford to take. Is there a mural or tapestry that forms in your mind?

And of course, all these are subject to interpretation. Like historic masonry that stands in modern times, they teach us to think freely. Its like.... As if we can afford not to. As if the simple poet in all of us begs us to feed it and let it grow. Loving the simple things, staring at them like paupers in spirit. Maybe with a childish thought that if we paid enough attention to them, they would pay our bills and allow us that physical freedom. Maybe the energy donated brings them to life and gives birth to a longing in them to experience the honor of finally being seen and loved after remaining in the same spot for all our lives, going without such. And that starting an addictive chemistry in their 'fantasaical' minds that causes them to see to making remedy all that keeps us from them so our time and energy continues to be donated, feeding their newly born addiction. What evil and narcisistic stuff, that any human would knowingly or not spread the virus of our eternal sickness of want, addictive want. Sometimes like these, I realize what a low thing it can be to be a man with my abilities, just pitiful. Luckily its only a fiction. One that can never be excercised outside of Alice's rabbit hole. Not that any simple things there are still innocent. And its also lucky that I am fiction as well. Given enough time, no one will ever know I existed. And so, we must bury deep our persistently logical minds of do's and dont's, separative mindsets and stupid knowledge. Deep, deep into the simple things. So what grows toward the new sun after the time has passed and we are gone tastes like- legend. But only to the explorer of our future world, and the children whom still realize that simple sugars..? Taste good.

Mediocre Me

I don't want to sit down and write. The fear is I'll continue. And no, this isn't Your write, my Precious friend :), its a venting in a moment that will soon fly away from me.
I am on an edge of the deep pain of lo..lo..lo..love (?) that I can't have. And the outcome of falling is to put to death my heart and emotion. My mind will cause my body to live, make altruistic choices and live virtuously, with or without..but to feel anything will become amiss. Buried dead in a deep grave, unmarked...as if putting away an important item I never desired to be lost, but meant to in the end. You, my Friend, know what I mean.
I leave myself where I know I left that Love the first time Love had to go... I..am...broken

Self Conscious

I've already felt that my wings have been cut, or removed altogether. Drawing on my body to replace what I could never earn by merit. These colored black. Having once a seat in front of my Father, doing His biding, never perfectly. Close in a sense of emotional and physical. Its been long since I've allowed myself to return to any corner of that room, if only to catch a glimpse of Him. As if I could sneek into His chambers, as I once did as a child. Crawling into bed with Him, to experience His heartbeat and heavenly warmth...unnoticed.
I replay, re-think and act out the memory with my hands, a dreamy pantomime of history lost long ago. On my back is this one black wing and on my chest are the weights it must bear, as penence for losing the rights of a son...I try so hard to fly back to the place that is still deadeningly familiar. But availing only temporary height from flutters, no more worth than an untied shoelace length to the floor... My wing is strong, but not paired. And I still see kindness shown to me. Not by those that are His, but those of secular persuasion...why? Why do I get spoiled and blessed by these? Is it some chemistry built from knowing the same place? Having once been a part of the inner circle? Maybe a single black wing rests on their back. As is their kindness, to me, a penence for their sins. I share a multitude of covering on top of their version of Love- which would explain the limited height I can reach, or not. She was my last chance at being 'good'. I told her i needed her, she denied the fact. Never seeing the broken man on the inside. Never knowing her intimate Love was nursing my spirit back to life and higher. I have not begun to unwrap this sweet-flavored and freshly bled wine.
(TBC)

KingFish

Push your Pen!

Blocked in like oceans screaming. To see the  bottom of their own depth. Run it dry as if the sun just wont come tomorrow and you are the only one that knows...

Breath and life and even Love means nothing mentioned in the same sentences...as if these moments are drowning in their own mysticism if not drawn viciously from the temporary wells of which they make their home. Fall madly and deeply in Love with her, in a moment. Share its lifetime of fears, terror, tears and dread then drown it all in laughter..then perish..free.
Streaming energy, screaming in light away from temperment. Living only in perilous fire. It rears its dragon head as if the KingFish came to the surface to take a breath of air, its first. Paining water-borne gills, forcing evolution.

The KingFish takes a look around at the surface. Seeing the 'nothing' and all the pale faces, " Why are you so human?!? In your dictionary term being nothing less than a form of a god, aren't you?? So if your god has wings, then why not fly? Why not shoot from the atmosphere in which only gravity keeps you and throw off that humanity? Shake the chains lose and let safety fall to the ground! LIVE, I SAY!!! You were given the gift of lungs and Love and freedom to move, why do you not express it?? As if a fish can have a face. I would rob you of all these simple blessings. Rob you of your lives to feel, just for a moment, the entity of tragedy and bliss your emotions can contain...COME TO LIFE!!!! As if a simple fish with no words to sing or breath to exhale more than my own death. Like Elisha's bones cried out to the retreating fallen soldier, I command you and dare you to LIVE!!!

And the death of the fish comes, wains, as he falls to the side. And with a backwards stare to the depths, whispering, " Live, my brethren...live..."
And it dies...shall we, then?

Restricted Visage (complete, I think)

(warning, war ning, wan ring. Jade ring...you wont be able to read all of this, nevertheless, it's here. Wrote it a while ago.)

She makes me a playlist. I sit across a room and captivate her movement in my gaze. She simply smiles under her fresh cut bangs and swaggered dress.

Reaches for the red bell peppers and a sharp kitchen knife, (she was upset it cost so much money). As she begins to slice, she cuts herself and responds how we do. Immediately, as if a premonition catches my subconscious, I'm behind her before she even makes the cut.

Taking hand in hand, crossing fingers as she watches the wound. I wipe it with my shirt, she gets upset. " It was only to kiss it, sugar. Re-lax, k?"

We split the checkered tile floor to the sink. Luke warm water, such as the surrounding volume of space we share in this world without each other, runs over the open wound. Washing red into the drain.

Last life I thought to myself of deeper things than this. A possiblity of the perfect match? A clever stare. The kind that separate things that were of yester-year to be immortal. In that life I think I was.

She says no one will ever Love me more than she does...if truth could be dared it could never be in that statement. I'm patiently waiting for her to have the same reality check, or to remember that I STILL Love her. And that all will be ok.

Like a resonating augmented tune one can't put out of their head. Linking together a muriad of heart songs as she sings to me in her sadness. Ethereally I step close to her, so she can pick up my scent, still making its way around her.

And this happened:

I put medicine on her back and watched it pool at the small of her back, " Oh my God, hon! That's SO cold!! Why did you put so much??"

" Wasn't me, babe." I tilted my head to my eyes and let my shoulders lead as my body followed into a slow methodical fall so I could see her eyes. I wanted to see them so badly. She was still posted horizontally on the marshmallow cushion. I caught her eyes and dipped slightly to her perfect breasts for a quick moment. " Gettin a glance? ...sly, sly..." she giggled long and fell back onto the Sac. My thoughts, " So damn cute, SO perfect. An everything between anything that keeps a definition of precious inside it."

My thoughts, " ...God...I need her like trees need poison." Such a human side.

" Babe," I waited, " babe? Sweet girl? ...Love?" Really didn't need an answer. She just kept giggling, and that was the point. Melting that fabric glue that bonded the best of me together. Rolling it out on her shelf of possession, her personal property.

" I'm feeling better, PC. Do you think we could go out if I get well enough?"

" No, babe," cooing, stroking, " you're sick, hon. Have to get recovered, need to rest. What do you wanna watch?"

" I don't care, just want my pc blanket, pleeease?? COLD!! ...and my pajamas."

Pushed off the floor after chasing her face for one more look.

" And get yours too, DON'T sleep in your shop clothes, its gross."

" Yeah, yeah."
Leaving the room I felt the shudder of wind from entities moving around in close proximity- She was standing behind me the instant I turned around to leave the room. Her hands walked around from my lower back to the crest of my hips and pressed toward my navel and below. Feeling the heat from her fevered body so close to me. Just stopping to let her have her way. Holding still enough to feel the pulse in her fingers and the slight tremble of her hands as she closed the gap between us, facing in the same direction. The mystery of it all only what was not seen by my physical eyes. I always hardly knew what she was playing as she whispered, " I know what you like..." Ugh, she knew always. Pushing up, dragging her fingers from my under belly. Each move coursing that strange energy in a sideways motion, making my core shudder. She grabs the hem of my shirt in crumples. Her fingernails clipping my sides bringing the energetic tremble headward in crescendoing ecstacy. My shirt comes up, and off. " Want this, right?" My mind now out of the slightest bit of control. Going from 'nuture' to emergency sensual overdrive. Melted. Dissipated by the heat sheeting off of her. She kissed and cooed as I reasoned, " Hon...Honey. Need to rest, babe, uh....ugh, ahh... Baby? ...you're so not listening to me..." " F*** no, I'm not," whispering still. Pressing her breasts against my newly exposed back. Pressing her lips to my skin like a raindrop tumbling down a stem and kissing the earth below it, again and again. " Thought you said you'd never deny me?" Of course I wouldn't. I looked out to the twilight, the post rush hour parking lot. Leaning back slightly into her. Reaching up and behind me, threading my fingers into her left hand that was caressing the short hairs just above my neck. Fondling the twirl. Threading her right hand and leaning further backwards into her. She pulled at me tightly, as often she did when she wanted to. Like used scraps of clay into a pugmill, she was tearing me apart and pressing me back together. Making parts fit that I never knew should go. A whole new meaning to beautiful to me. I unlinked one hand from her and spun around, knocking my cap to the floor. She stepped back. Restricting the view my body had of her to let my eyes in for a tease. I raked down her back with slightly forceful tension. Watching her face closely as she rippled the stroke outwardly and vocally. Closing her eyes while biting the left side of her lower lip. Letting go of her breath in a breezy shutter. I reached the bottom of the stroke, her eyes fluttered open. She reached from chocolate covered iris to hold the back of my thought in her gaze. I pulled her in and kissed her eyes, brushing her nose with the bridge of mine. Pulling with my hand wrapped around her lower back, I moved her closer closing the gap the second and final time. My other hand found a blanket folded on a nearby chair back. Letting it fall around her with both hands, enveloping her body. Dimming the light in the room, hiding her glow. I layed her down, tucked her in and nutured her closely, for the rest of our evening.
TBC

Something strong this way went

That taste...still on my lips. The tip of the hose kept a lingering taste of sweetness from a piece of a torn map. You left it, it's still there.

The truth in secrets behind every whimsical stare somehow remaining untouched by every day of emotional struggle. Like a child fighting to keep warm outside in a winter's chill. I felt you, without cause or reason.

And called it "Love".

The goals glowed as bright as the coals at midnight and later, finding a peace inside the obscenity of a man trying to provide a better life for something you were always right about...something that never had a definition...I'm now at peace, remembering that you were correct, in every way.

If I'm me, and you're still true you, then we've both found something. Whether it be a ripped treeswing in the distant future, or a pain of something that should have never been lost, its a discovery, nonetheless. I would ask you, allow yourself to sleep in the solace of such a new place. Unfounded from the foundation to the steeple. A church of the new, an open air venue, where you always were the preacher, choir, congregation and the the one faulted by Love's cause..are you still there? Wandering through pews and aisles where you expressed the passion of everyone around? Or are you alone? Regardless of the physical disposition, it follows you, unsplintered and true to its form, the church of your soul. And it cries still to you, find yourself, LOVE...yourself. Be at peace, on this earth, with yourself. It deserves you and you deserve the best your Dad has to offer, which is not yourself.

...I gotta go...and I can only be what I was created to be, all else is vanity (do you remember?). I give you what I can, which is still too much, I still believe in the best in you. There is still time, there is still hope. He awaits behind the open door you keep staring at. I'd ask you to stop waiting. Walk slowly, carefully. Nothing else matters now but truth. That sweet taste has effected me forever, and I will carry it without anger or distain. Your spirit is more pure than to be what you believe you are. Be well...please...be well. You are greatly Loved.

I'm thankful for the healing piece of the map. It has helped to make me whole and find my way to my treasure. Of which is so much more grand than I allowed myself to imagine..even in my strong belief and idealistc nature, you would know that's bigger than the planet.

Be well...please, be well. You ARE greatly Loved.