I Don’t Know How To Talk To You

I don’t know how to talk to you when you take your head off. So I just plant flowers and hope  they grow deep roots. I think back to all the gardens I’ve tried to grow, and I don’t think I’ve ever did it the way I really wanted. I mean the way I talked about doing it all the time. With the alluring path that draws you in, and the stimuli that overwhelm those senses. We have talks that open you up, but it’s not everything I am.  Say goodbye to those quieter parts; Shade is a work to cast and flowers take time to grow. Hold up, keep up, soft as water love to raise a garden trust.

They say it’s love, but it isn’t love is it
I just don’t understand. Or I’m scared that I do.
We want to speak to hear how we sound
We want space, but we don’t want to be alone

I don’t think I’ve fully explained to you all about myself. Probably because beyond seeking dangers of all peculiar sorts, I don’t know much what makes me feel the way I do. Strangely enough though something has changed. I used to not consider the potential harm of danger. I overlooked it, it would never be me of all persons. I’ve started to put the belt on when I drive. I think for a moment before I jump – Before I do anything. Maybe because you made me realize what might be lost if it were me, just once.

I try with you,
I know you feel what I feel;
It seems like I say all the great things,
but I know you can’t be serious about me

I’ve heard so much about you. I’ve heard first hand stories of your childhood, and they make me smile – I know how you treat your family at the dinner table, and lounging around the house; Your goals are beautiful struggles I know you’ll achieve; Your inner mythology drags me under with all its’ lessons about leaving; Breathing all the time is overrated. I know what you’d get as a tattoo, even though you’d never get one, for now.

You better wake up & act like nothing’s wrong

I Been Thinkin’ Bout You

Now I’m on the wave, gon’ ride till I wipe out,
And I’ been fired up,
I say my prayers to the sky when it’s lights out
because no one knows how long we’ll be living on this high
I say my prayers to the sky
because every night it’s what I’m lookin up to,
Ridin’ round I got to get it because these dreams cost,
I  been so focused, wasn’t thinking bout you when I wrote this
I been trying to play my part to see my visions unfold in front of me,
What this cold has done to me
What I’ve chosen to be, feelin’ like I’m the one
I hit the road bout to make a ride on that avenue
I hit your phone, tell you girl get ready and you better lose the attitude
Because I ain’t got no time for it
I don’t need you stressin’ me girl,
When you wanna know that I’m for it,
She don’t really give me what I need
When we lay between the sheets,
I get to reminiscin’ on my old thang
she don’t know this – I can’t show it – gotta stay focused
As she whisper in my ear
tellin’ me she love me,
Right here right now,
Right here right now,
Tellin’ me that she need me
Right here right now,
Right here right now,
Tell me that she want me
Right here right now,
Right here right now,
Say she gon’ put it on me
Right here right now
Right here right now,
I been thinkin’ bout you, bout you, bout you
Lately, I been thinkin’ bout you
All the things you used to do,
How you told me that you couldn’t stay
Tell me what I’m, I’m supposed to do
I feel like I’ve lost my way, without you, without you,
As I tell my new chick – slide through

Shit I just need you to feel me,
I swear I’m givin’ you the real me
Shit I just need you to hold me
I came a long way from the old me

Slide through

Walks In The Dark

Well aren’t you a pretty monster.
That’s a wild vine you’ve got strangling you.
Choke her? Are you wearing a choker?
I don’t like your new choker

You’ve got to decide what you want to nourish your body with. Oxygen isn’t your favorite in times like this. Is this too dirty for the gods? Well they can close their eyes or suck it. Sacred is how you touch something; vile are the things we won’t. It doesn’t matter how pristine your facade is, some will still be repulsed by you.

Grotesque is only in the nature of a person’s views.

Our Body Is Full of Organs

It’s a peculiar thing. So much surrounds us, we take so much in; Still it does not see fruit

I could sit here for hours dissecting and pulling different parts of my viscerals out onto the table. We’d need a bit more counter space for everything. I don’t even remember consuming half this shit. Most of it sprouted up out of necessity. Okay, that’s entirely not true. Less than a quarter is out of necessity, the rest is out of longing. If I’m honest I could probably think back to when that seed started growing.
I haven’t always been the ideal gardener. Flowers shouldn’t be the only thing to result from working in the soil. A balance of stem and space! There are geometries to it! I ignored the weeds, and now I’m going to pay with a lifetime of tired bones. If someone grinds them up after, they would make great nourishment for the roots to start again.

Isn’t that exactly the hopefulness we come into the world seeking? Not many things can accomplish that hunt. An arrow takes a lot of intimacy before you can land it through the pride’s heart. Is it a struggle? Of course, but that kind of death is easier than most.

Our body is full of organs but we always feel so fucking empty

 

The Gift

I won’t let my genius be my misery, and death

When you start to question whether it ever existed, you begin to erase yourself. While none of us or any of it is permanent, that doesn’t mean the record is blank, that every step outside is like water thrown into the ocean.

Imagine what you could do with such a brilliance! Imagine what it could do to you if you were to use it for self destruction. Wouldn’t it really sink you low? Its’ hold on the bottom would be quite the weight. I am certain no nightmare more hellish could be enacted! If you think you’re going through anything in this moment, I plead you to turn around and go back towards the surface. Whatever you’re feeling now, is nothing like what you could puzzle together if you keep picking up omens.

It’s quiet & slow. This isn’t the way I really enjoy it. It isn’t the mood I was hoping for. Something sort of lingers in my vessel; It isn’t any thing harsh or vile, but I still feel the drag of an anchor. Perhaps a bit of malaise, as I adjust to the reduced grandeur of the days. Is it poor? No, plenty of wealth is still had, but it just doesn’t have much hip in the hop – Or jump to the step? Laying down at night is pretty barren. The bed sleeps great, but the passenger is not looking for shut eye. And really it should be fine, but it just isn’t the same.

A little time has to pass. This wasn’t who you were. Now I don’t know where you went and left yourself, but I’ll be waiting somewhere for you. If you don’t make it, don’t worry; Not everyone does. It wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Oh damn the wheel of the world, why must it continually lay over! Lay it down. Your tired body. Lay it down. All the things you have been trying to hold together must go  ways. And there is only one way for this.

Your gift is something I’ve seen. It was fire to the first men. Metal to the ages. It was the seed to the dirt, and land on the horizon; Rubido to the alchemists; And light in the depths of the cave – I touched it heavy. I dragged my entire vessel through the fountain. My attempts to take what I had uncovered saw only drought, for what was discovered could only be known where it had been found. To stay meant death, and to leave was goodbye.

Quotes for Quenching – 30

“Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” — C.S. Lewis

 

I know the type of individual of which Lewis wrote. He turns down every invitation, he leaves only his absence once he is gone. He invests nothing in those around him because they are nothing to his soul. He shuts the world out and holds only himself in his hands. The things he does are entirely for him. People may try to come around, but he quickly shuts them down, because the most important thing is time, of which he has none for anything but his lines; Yes his drugs of choice, and the occasional self serving urge.

He smiles as he looks his prey in the eyes, not because he’s happy, but because what he wants is easy to take! Yes, it’s willingly given, but only because he lies with good taste. What should I drown the world out with tonight, he wonders, perhaps a telling of how great he is. That always feels so good. Or maybe he’ll go find someone to tell him, so he can coldly not reciprocate, once again leaving knowing nothing could be lost.

I know this man because at one point in the story I was him. I never gave a shit about anyone. I did it all for my own gain and pleasure. I wanted the world not so I could share it, but so I could give it out as my gift to those below me, or not at all. I had to have what I wanted, but what was I expecting to pay for it? No, I was owed it!
At one point I could without falter, claim that I knew no love for a single being in existence. I had to lie a lot along the way, fake it till I made it. I’d say I got pretty good at mimicking what I had observed. The words came easy. They were all so easy. And it was all to make myself feel good. I made it about me. It was about me. What selfishness I now detest! The ground could not bare to hold me. So vile was my path; Yet it was one I had to walk to know anything of what I was. As I went along I learned to dance, to feel, to bleed in different ways. I came to know it all through those who touched me. Every point along the road gave me something more to hold. I knew something had changed when I finally gave in to the animals. I no longer found them without purpose, I no longer found them worthless. It was bizarre to see what I had been, after living lies for my entire life. It was confounding to say the least. Especially at the epicenter of the mainshock, and closer to it. Imagine you woke up one morning to discover you’d been acting a role! That none of what you felt had actually been anything but a means to an end; That you had been cold and corrupt all along aiming only to serve yourself with little more than a candle to the wind held for others. Do you at that moment drop the act? Do you stand before the audience with your hands motionless at your sides and stare blankly? Some may, but I didn’t. I was determined to be authentic. I was determined to find true emotions. I went on, and on, practicing daily. Many times did I observe my coldness which sent a chill down my spine. An electrical charge was firing, and it knew of what it was seeking. I knew by this that I was making progress. Of course when you act for so long you can turn like wheels on the bus; You forget the act exists and blend into the scene. I’m not sure if this was color rubbing off on me or if it was all blurring together as I became numb to the motions. I spent a long cold winter alone after the last collision. I never had more time to twist and shake, shiver and cringe. I came out of those nights knowing a lot about what it meant to be cold. When you’re alone there is no act. It’s just you. And when you spend enough time alone without the act, you really settle into who you are. I found summer again and was determined to thaw myself for the final time. I never wanted to be frozen through to the marrow again. Of course as I began to warm, the stage got wet. I didn’t know much about standing in water, the pressure, the warm air hitting my cold frame; I did my best to weather the ensuing storms. As soon as I could shake free of the last few icicles I had to run. I ran away because it was all too much for me at once. It took time to get used to the thaw. It took time to comprehend the flow of the rivers when no ice was clogging their veins. And then I found myself so natural and free. Eager! It was no act. I was simply me; No stage, just rivers, beautiful rivers you can drown in.

I’ll have whatever I please because emptiness takes a lot to feed.

If it’s cold enough, walking on the ice is safer than you’d think

Squaring The Circle

Some colors simply go well together.

But some things, people, can’t be blanketed under one or even a few; gradients, we need gradients! So many layers exist, and no amount of coats will cover what persists. To use the word monochromatic to describe either of us would be cowardly, fearful of what it might actually encompass to square the circle in this case.

If you aren’t painting with a full palette, I must ask that you consider what might be lost.

She hasn’t said anything of late but I know how quiet she can be. I see it, but I don’t call it’s name. If I didn’t know her so well, if I didn’t know so intricately the knots in her back; It might all turn me over, and leave me prone.

You want me to be safe, I want burning, dangerously close to the end of my wick; Smoke begins to pick up, fire names my last breath an ember, a ruby in a glass – It sings to me

She wants me to listen when I begin to erupt; Is it because I’m selfish, and a tad poor of hearing? Might I sometimes descend down the chain with a few mighty roars; Or climb up to see with omniscient eyes? Hopefully it’s a ratio of only 3:1. I think she knows it’s the things in my past she still hasn’t brushed the grime from yet.

I want her to be around for as long as men have told lies, so that I can perhaps speak the truth; that never would I have believed something so wonderful before I lived to see enough to prove there is more to life than tragic beauty. I want her to tell me the things there are no answers to, when she finds them of course. Maybe we can agree on some

I already had said goodbye, step by step. I had to. She was going places, and even if I wanted to go with her, I couldn’t; There was no way I could keep up – I’d only be holding her from where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to see.
I told myself I’d never let it get me, I wouldn’t break down and let that shit fuck me up anymore. And I guess I won’t know until years down the road if I was able to keep my integrity.

I woke up wanting to kiss you, but wants are never needs.

Wisdom of Q – 1

“I don’t know much about wine to be honest, but what I do know is that women love Moscato.” – Q, from When it Comes to Breaking

Here let me pour you a glass – Heavens your day looks drawn; And I mean out, not sketched. Should we take a few minutes to let this breathe? Do not rush so headlong; Darling this is quality. – And like any masterwork of art, it takes time for the senses to know what they are dancing with. And dancing on the palette is a complexity a mile wide.
What style do you prefer? Let me put a semicolon between you bent over; And me at the backdoor to meet you.

It’s raw; I’m raw the way I intend to touch you. No filter is how I want the dirty water material world.

You don’t really know how to taste correctly do you? There’s more than just putting it in your mouth. Levels exist to all this, and you’ve got to take the time to get acquainted on each one. Take it in. On the nose, the nose first, and not just how you breathe all day; That’s not depth, not deep at all. Take it in to your inner sanctuary, and let it cake on the walls. Now press it out! Dash and swirl it – Air serves it like a symphonic chamber; The guard is down and the ceilings are open! Now press your nose deep. There is much to find towards the bottom. Is it heavy ? Let it go. Return to the horizon, but keep your distance for this one, yes, hear the whispers from down in the volcanic crater. Are you ready for a splash? Just the tip first, a bit of a bite, an intense concentration of jolts to the buds. This is where you find what your tongue desires, at the gate. Forward we will pass this keeper, and deliver nectar to the body! You deserve a limber afternoon. We could take more insanity, but I’d rather discover all that out in the wild. The howl is our cue, throw your head back and let’s dance like it were a full moon! Feel the life bursting with vigor in this juice – It’s everything a tongue could need, and more.

Be careful, a good dance might find you on the floor

A good dance will have you squirming for a drop more