I don't see how
Worrying can make you
Tired.

But it does.

It makes me exhausted, it makes me an insomniac,
It makes me think crazy, it makes me worry more than I already was.
It makes me think every one has something happening to them
Right now
At this very moment.

Something is
Wrong.

But I'm tired. I really am.
I need my sleep.
But my mind is fighting,
Telling me over and over and over again that
I need to check one last time
Whether someone is okay
Whether someone is alive
Whether someone is someone is...

**** it, there's the mental block.
It happens.
Usually.
I think.
I don't know.

But what I do know is that
It makes me unusual,
It makes me sick,
It makes me not normal.

It makes people stare,
It makes people scared,
It makes people laugh and laugh and laugh
While they call me names and mock me.

They tell me I'm crazy,
Mentally *******, a
"Psychopathic pill popper".

I know that I am.
And I'm trying to stop.
But it's hard.

And I'm tired.

I wish every day would last forever,
like they seem to in the summer.
With nothing to do
but dwell in your thoughts
and bask in loneliness.

Human contact is annoyingly necessary
and sometimes
I wish I could escape it.
I'd like to be alone,
away from judgements,
just me and my thoughts.
Just me and my wants, hopes, dreams, desires,
sifting and floating in my eyes
and in my mind.

I see them quite clearly now,
only the thin fog of time clouds my view,
making them seem like an illusion.
Why do I wish for the future
with such anxiety
and at the same time,
long for the past?

Everything is temporary.
That thought has been headlining
every corner of my ideas
and hopefulness.
Everything is temporary,
everything is an illusion
just waiting to dissolve into the past
wanting me to miss it
and yearn for it back.

Everything ends the same.
Why worry about a broken window
a ripped page,
a battered heart,
when everything will end up fixed,
or in the trash,
or healed and scarred over.

Everything ends up in the past
and the things you once looked forward to
with such fear and excitement
become irrelevant.

If material possessions aren't important,
then what is?
Possessions are all we have.
We possess cars, computers, phones, clothes,
books, money,
knowledge.
Everything we know, feel, do,
are revolved around what we possess.
What more is there?

Even love is a possession.
You hold it, you keep it,
you cherish it,
and it's painful to part with it.

Everything in life is temporary,
nothing can cause joy
without eventually
causing pain.

Nothing gold can stay.

A figment of your imagination.
A simple picture out of a dramatic kids story.
A scraped knee after a heart attack.
A tear into a river.
Minor compared to major .
A simple taste of pain compared to the entire flavor.
Do you agree ? Pain is nothing .
Well then you've never experienced heartbreak .
You've never experienced Lost .
Your Not Human .
But then if your reading this of course you know pain is much more .
If you don't agree , your heart is surely false .
And your mind is surely Lost

One moment.

Her eyes were closed and the sparks danced behind them and down through her body, a beautiful, uncontrollable choreography. The smell of leather and summer intoxicated her, left her knees wobbling. One moment, one memory, lips parted and together, spinning her round and round until she fell down.

Blue eyes begged and fingers scraped noncommittally against every pore, but she was locked. The wood would not budge, and her silent tears collapsed as he danced from afar. A bittersweet tango as another woman reflected in his eyes, fingers dancing with his as hers once did.

Cheap motels and motor oil were all they had needed that summer. He had smiled and left kissing promises in the naked morning, waking her daily with their future, fantasy, and love. One moment, every stalling second was one moment, one moment before he could kiss her, one moment before he could touch her, one moment before he could love her.

She would wait moment, she would wait forever.

Together their hearts had melded into a rhythm unlike any she had known, music without sound that had them dancing from the moment they met until the moment she had to leave.

One moment. They said that moment would ruin his life. Every leaping dream and twirling hope would be crushed by her little mistake. His dance would end. Each hand hung onto a different love, and she had to choose.

Long moments, on one long night, she wished sorrowful goodbyes to her growing love. In the shadows she crawled to clinics cold and heartless. Her fingers dropped money in their pockets to tear her heart open, rip it to shreds, take it way and make her cold, clinical, incomplete. She could no longer dance, her fingers could no longer move with his as they once did. Yet their hearts stayed tied, and with each misstep her love took three. Clueless, he let her ****** his music, his rhythm, his dance with love.

They told her she was killing him. They insisted she was no good for him. They blamed her when he could no longer dance.

She listened.

One moment, arms clasped onto one another, water fell in a remorseful decrescendo, marking the end of a love. The cavity of her heart was filled with rainwater, flooded with the pain of their loss. He begged her not to go, but he was blind to the blood on her hands. She had to be strong to save him.

One final moment, lips crashed into the final dance, the beautiful memory that haunted her into her dreams, into her days, unto her end.

He smiled, she smiled, and his dance finally began again in the arms of his bride. All that was left for her was a silent solo, the walk away from the love she would never replace. They had locked her out. They had broken her heart.

But they had been right, and without her he would dance again.

I won't love you like a man will love you.
I won't love you
Like a woman will love you either.
I wish I could say
I fit something I knew a word for
In terms of love.
But no.
I will love you
Like the ground loves the rain after a drought.
I will love you like the moon
Loves its little glimpses of the sun
As it slips behind the earth again,
Lovers
So similar but so different,
Never in the same place at once.
I will love you
In terms of Nature
I will love you
In terms of
Universe.
But
I cannot love you in terms of man
Or woman
Unless you mean
All that either has ever been.
And I think I should apologize-
I think you should know that
If you think this is different because I am a woman,
That's not why.
It is different because I am a cyclone,
An earthquake,
A natural disaster of hurt and hope,
And I love you like the planets love the star
That gravity bends them towards
And that
Is not how any man or woman I've ever met
Has loved before.
And I am not sure if I will ever meet another one
Like me.
And I am not sure
I would even want to.