Let’s connect. Let me feel and taste you while we figure this thing out. Let me know the insides of your mind while I fantasize about the possibilities of us. Let me go out on a limb and just take advantage of your sexual drive. What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with wanting something for this moment – this singular time and just enjoying it? Why make it complicated? Why not take chances and go by the thrills and the pulls of our inner selves? Isn’t that the beauty of this? Isn’t all that we want just a few open touches away from this? I want you to open me up. Tear me apart and invade my comfort space. I want to feel you rippling through my mind as my days take pace. I want you to teach me to use my mind like a tongue. This tool that will lick every inch of you and enjoy the sensations that it pulls. I’ll teach you more. I’ll teach you how to revere my body like a shrine. I’ll teach you to respect every crevice that’s mine. Oh, you’ll like it. You’ll love every minute of it. And you’ll crave… We’ll both crave. And that’s the beauty of it. This urge, this thing that drives us to be our unfathomed selves, Damn… If only. If only we could connect. If only we could feel and taste each other while we figure things out. If only we could let each other get to know the insides of our minds and enjoy fantasizing about the possibilities of us. If only we could go out on a limb and just enjoy our sexual drives… What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with that?!
When it’s quiet, really quiet, I feel the echoes of my existence bleeding through my skin. I try to stay still – no breathing, no thinking – just floating. Maybe that will keep it at bay. It usually does for a little while. Not often though. The heavy feeling of my breath, my heartbeat- The fact that I am here in this moment (this space) is something that has always haunted me. Does it haunt you too? Do you want to pause your existence and not feel, not touch, not smell, not want…? These moments are my torture – my masochistic thrill, For, if I do not feel the weight of my existence, how do I know that i’m alive?
How do I cry for a loss that feels superficial but deep? How do I want or define something I’m not sure I want to keep? I love you. I do. You know this. But love, to me, is bullshit. Oh it’s great in the moments of early thrills. It speaks volumes when things are covered in silk. But – Its death is simply inevitable…
The visceral groans that purr against my skin, my throat, my groin…
What is this feeling that envelopes my blood?
This feeling that causes me to yearn beyond thoughts and just languor on the edge
And stretch with need as I try to clench my womanhood into submission.
Why do I submit?
Why should I?
The answer is slow, though not always welcomed.
Is this what true love feels like?
Is this what it means to commit and actually stay committed?
It’s a hard thrill, a crazy thrill, a painful thrill… but still a thrill.
Was anyone ever worth this before?
Did my tongue not go dry at a missing before?
Did I not yearn and love so hard that this urge cascaded before?
I can’t tell you now,
But this feels new.
Here I am sitting on the edge of sanity.
Clenching my thighs and thinking it’s almost a year before your entry.
If this isn’t love I don’t know how to define the taste.
My thoughts and feelings make it so hard to assuage.
In my dreams, you love me with your tongue in and out like a stream.
You rip open my body and make the universe scream.
God! You love me so hard that each pore steams.
And, still, my insanity beams.
How do I calm the beast inside?
I feel trapped because it’s so hard to take apart these times.
I just go by the moments that temper my skin,
And hope against hope that, eventually, you’ll accept my sins.
Oh how you wooed me. How you brought me to the edge and then back. How you promised me feelings of euphoria when I would just be sitting here – basking, waiting – yearning for the other. What do you have that I don’t have? These lies that you proffer and the pain that follows it’s just… it’s so much, and so little… If only these moments could last – the thrills, the good stuff, all the brilliant things but, they never do. Only pain follows. But still, I yearn. I want. I crave more. More of you? No. More of what you give me. More of what I get. You are my absent thrill… Always. And I thank you. I thank you for that. They say you’re my enemy, but you’re my friend – you’re one of my best friends! You’re always there for me, even though I know you’re killing me as I take you in… But, that’s not important. We all die soon anyway. Thank you for being there for me. My poison. My thrill.
Below the smiles lie the true hearts that beat, The sadness and unreputed pain that never bleeds. This “cool land” that takes centre stage, Is just another faceted belief that makes it easy to sleep. The honor, the respect – what are these things? Do they shelter a deep mourning of expressions never seeped? They smile and apologise to cover the pain, But does their true worth ever form fates?
They live in a bubble of pacifist needs, But do the moments of retribution ever leave? Living on the outside looking in – countering the moments that never exist. The work is exhausting, though one would not think why, And the strong shoulders remain, but never for cries. One yearns and controls the seconds that come, And sits quietly while the food stays in control. This measure of thinking that this world is the best, Is just a measure that tolls the black bird’s nest. Never sigh or show the minutes that dwell, Or you’ll be placed in the most unforgivable hell.
Letting emotions go free is not what is good, Let’s keep it hidden – locked, under the hood. If we keep the moments of pain under clasp, We’ll be following the rules of the open past. Times like this, I wish that when I see the truths I’d remain unbent. But those aren’t the rules of such a surreal life, There’s a price for comfort and polite smiles. How much would you pay to live in a world That’s covered in trust but soothed in dirt?
“I will respect you ‘til my end”, that’s what they say, yes? Just stay within the box and it’ll all be set. It’s safe in this bubble while the world strolls by, Because these moments are just lent from the human mind…
What is beauty, this mystery that shrouds my skin?
This thing that casts an odd glow on my rather-not-mentioned sins.
Here I stand with wrinkles and lines, still the same person only slower,
Still the same person only duller.
Do my lines define me?
I think they do…
They define not what I think of myself but what is viewed of me.
I’ve grown to loathe all the grey bits that sporadically appear on my head,
Not until I’m fifty! Or closer to agéd death.
How does one keep their cool while trudging this line called life?
How does one stop the clock that slowly penetrates the nights?
My greys and aged skin do not bask humbly by the window –
Willingly waiting for moments of thrilling youthful endeavours.
I, nay, we all sit by this folly,
Braving the days… or maybe not so much bravery when it comes to the uncertain.
Still, life gives little choice to those who breathe this air,
And eventually, unless we die young, we all face the call of the aging glare.
If you try to find happiness outside of yourself with people or things, then it is fleeting, and it’s not true happiness. This is surfaced. True happiness lies within. And in order to be happy with people and the things around you, you first have to be happy with yourself.
So, here are some steps to being truly happy:
Sit down and get to know who you are… people spend their entire lives with themselves, and some leave this world not even knowing who they truly are. Get to know yourself. How do you do this? Talk to yourself… If you find that you’re reacting a certain way to something, ask yourself why you do that. Mind you, an external voice won’t answer but keep asking yourself questions and you will eventually get answers. No one knows you better than yourself.
Like yourself. This is sadly not as easy as it sounds. But here’s the crazy thing… If you find that you don’t like yourself, then you’re doing something or some things that you know isn’t/aren’t aligned with who you really are. Find out what those things are and avoid doing them. Not liking yourself is never just a surfaced thing like – being too fat or skinny or short or tall or pale or dark. These are all surfaced, and this surfaced dislike is coming from somewhere deeper – sit down, be patient with yourself and figure it out. Aren’t you worth it?
After learning to like yourself, now what you do is love yourself. Treat yourself like you treat a loved one. Appreciate yourself, do things that you like to do, and find and follow whatever makes you feel good in a positive way. Over time, you’ll find that you can call yourself one of your best friends. You know who you are, you appreciate yourself and you love yourself.
Happiness for all. Once you start to love yourself, you will find that being truly happy is not a fabled existence. Once you’d gotten to know yourself, you’d have found out what makes you feel good and what makes you feel shitty. In order to have true happiness, you should constantly be aware of steps 1-3 and ceaselessly put those steps into play. This is a continuous journey, once you stop any of those 3 points, there’s a good chance your inner feeling of happiness will become stilted and stuck. But, being happy is not something that’s difficult – you just have to be patient with yourself and follow your little joys every day. And, before you know it, you’ll be living a happy life.
Another quiet morning has passed where, upon tumbling out of bed, I muse to myself, “what the hell was that dream?” Not that I don’t appreciate the memory of my flights and celestial fancies, but sometimes I truly have to wonder what my subconscious is up to when I delve into these otherworlds.
Sitting on the outskirts of my mind, I look around my tiny apartment and feel the closeness of everything choking me back into my safety net. That slumber that never leaves. It’s sort of like my security blanket – always there to rock me into submission.
Going into auto-pilot, my morning glides from task to task, continuously the same yet somewhat different. I can never seem to do the same exact thing twice.
Sometimes time plays tricks on me, telling me we’re cool and will roll together. But as soon as complacency sits in, I’m tossed in a whirlwind of ticks and missing beats. I can never get mad though, I know time sits still and I’m the one that flows. Still, these moments remain, almost like a reminder of my movement between these planes – forever on the move, yet remaining the same.
Occasionally, I would sit as still as possible and relish in the shifts that exist with and through me. I’m in a million different places right now – how many people know this?
So, back in my apartment, my home away from home, I try to stay with time and have friendly conversations to appease as I go through the motions.
And soon, sometimes too soon, I greet the morning that sits on the outside of my door.