willingness may
appear in the next space
as if she'd never left
but always breathing
any moment soon
still too far from sky or scent
mind runs where when I look
too fast to light to land
perhaps a stance
a choice
a body curve
a wish
a prayer
**for she is camouflaged beneath resistance
she whose passion overflows
she who magnetizes
she who aligns  
who embodies
all is well

The life span of a housefly
is approximately a month

Imagine if that was the lifespan
of everyone in this room,
from birth to death--
in just a month we grow;
           learning to walk, talk, eat pancakes, perceive god,
           light fires, play guitar, make coffee, cook lobster,
           learning to hula-hoop, to snap, to use the toilet
           and/or discovering your favorite shades of red,
          the first time merging with the opposite ***...
all in the span of a month.

How intense must that life feel?

Not to mention the physical growth
of bone, skin, heart, feet all the way
from birth to death in a month.

I think people would live quite differently;
laws would cease, save for the natural ones,
like the lifespan of a month.

Such learning with great intensity
compact into such a short time...

In this way I envy the housefly;
the fly that lands on dog ****--
risking a shorter life swatting death
to drink some sweat or
warm up for a spell in your home.

What a life,
the life of a fly in time.

I want to tell you not to make my mistake.
I want to tell you not to build walls. You pick up brick by brick, hiding yourself in the structure you've created. You feel safe until you realize you are left alone, trapped in the cage you built to be a home, standing in darkness and suffocating among walls that won't reach out to help you.
I want to tell you I understand.
I want to tell you that I often draw up blueprints for my home. When the world gets too close to me, I sketch tall ceilings above strong walls. I plan elaborate architecture. I sketch large windows that allow for sun-drenched rooms and put details on tall towers until I have a magnificent mansion, knowing all along that it's just a clever disguise for the cage I must never let myself enter. Once you go in, it's very hard to break down the walls.
I want to tell you to give up your bricks.
I want to tell you that you will feel better when you let them go. When things are hard, your hands will twitch until you grab your drafting pen, you'll still set out sheets of paper and start thinking about your walls, but you'll feel better knowing you're only making plans. I know the bricks are heavy, but you don't have to move them alone. I want to tell you to ask for help.
I want to tell you to let Him carry them away.
I want to tell you to let them go.
I want to tell you to stop pretending.
I want to tell you everything will be okay.
I hope you can hear me through your walls.
I don't think you can.

Why can't I dream for one night
Without seeing someone's after life

Why can't I dream for one night
Without seeing someone's future in my mind

Why can't I dream for one night
Without knowing what I dream

Why can't I dream for one night
Where what I dream ~even the nightmares ~ is better than my reality

Why can't I dream for one night
*And and never wake from it again

~

And I fall…down

As the sunset of life reaches out to me
in marmalade swirls…orange sherbet dreams
I follow in loose footsteps,
not sure of the bridges I cross
or those burned in the process

Alone I stumble on braided pebbles,
scattered on this serpentine path,
feeding my mind with thoughts
Peering back on what was,
crying when your picture finds me

Dark tangerine tints line the sky now
for the day…this day…my life
shall soon disappear beyond the horizon
Fading to a tiny speck,
hiding in plain sight where no one can see…or care

Finality sings its sad melody
in fractured bar chords and minor notes
As I again find you invading my soul,
reaching down from my heart,
the place you still reside

And I whisper I am sorry…for the pain
Collections of hurt I did not realize I carried
beneath shiny bows and pretty paper
Sending you away from me…my precious gift,
the loss of all that was me…you

Quicker my steps drive
to that straight line illusion beckoning
Darker still as minutes pass
for I know this end is mine alone
as the moon crests the sea and I fall…down

My fingers have learned
how it feels
to get burned.
When your every
“I’m Sorry”, left a scar,
deep and unearned.

The words on your lips
whispered the truth
while you slept.
Leaving me no longer wondering
why you smiled
as I wept.

My heart finds itself smiling
into the numbness
of your vacancy.
Your memory’s grown silent
and is now dead
to me.

It was unfair that I loved you first
It was unfair that you and I were cursed
It was unfair that with no one around we were free
Just you and me, joking, talking, knowing

Peers are just the first form of abuse we suffer in this world
Words hurled, lips curled,
We drifted apart, whispers became louder than shouts
I found out that you'd kissed her

I didn't cry, you weren't mine to cry over
I didn't show emotion, that takes time
I didn't pursue anyone else, I insulated myself
I didn't experience anything but loneliness and bitterness

Facebook show me those peers
Reveal their lives, their pain, their happiness
She's on the social network, she runs, drinks wine
Is married, is a mum

I look for you on there, you're not
I am, but if we find each other again
Life has had the last laugh
We are both married. Unfair.

It's not the rain
that makes my eyes wet.
It hasn't rained in forty days.
Nights are long and quiet.
The silence cuts to bone.

It wasn't rain that quenched the fire.
It hasn't rained in forty nights.
The well is dry... so am I.
Nights I sit in silence
while it rains.

r ~ 4/19/14

perhaps imprinting this razor into my thigh could be considered "grieving"
as you lying down in bed all day weeping
and perhaps my means of adjustment more productive
in that afterwards I could arrange a fake smile upon my face and move along
while you stay in that same place all day
(on those 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets)
listening to that same song
although both our mental states as shattered as broken plates after the plate tectonics broke underneath that chestnut oak
in oakland