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Neurotica Dec 2012
I love mornings like these;
the subtle promise of the bitter cold to come,
met by the tenacity and warmth of the autumn sun.

It almost makes me want to go out and do something great…

Almost.
Neurotica Dec 2012
False prophet.
Web of lies.
Preying, grooming, seducing and sustaining
with the delusions of your own mind.
Grooming.
Grooming.
Neurotica Dec 2012
I woke up not long ago, lay there in bed awhile. My head hurt. Luxuriate.
Eventually, I forced myself up, padded to the kitchen and noticed every soft swoosh of my feet on the hardwood floors, the blanket of fog that lay over the city, every glint of light fighting to enter my world and every colour on every flowering plant in the room. Setting the coffee maker, I returned to the room and sat cross-legged on my yoga mat (if only for a minute). Something was different. Something had changed.

Then I realized that in my grief, and for three months, I had forgotten how to breathe.

Today, I breathe.
Neurotica Dec 2012
People come in and out of our lives everyday. Whether it be the shy, pimply-faced kid behind the counter at the local coffee shop, the pretty, young girl who seems to be eternally waiting at entrance of the station for someone who will never come, or the 83 year old man who breathes and sleeps through his own musky scent of mildew and mothballs while standing up in line behind you at the grocery store - each of them with stories to tell, lives to lead and, ultimately, holding the potential to change your life; if only for that chance opportunity.

Sometimes, we return a smile, a gesture; we exchange a fateful glance (if such a thing exists). Maybe the accidental encounter ends there. Even then, we’re fortunate if we’ve made a difference in someone’s day at precisely 3:24 P.M. on a Monday afternoon. And then…. Oh, yes… and then, sometimes, what seems to be a simple matter of being in the right place, at precisely the right moment, we find, in that instant, what can be explained as nothing less than ourselves within another; someone who reflects back to you the person that you are and that you want to be, mutually and at the same time. It is at this instant, this recognition of your self in another human being, that you whisper promises to “never let this go”.

But promises were made to be broken.
Neurotica Dec 2012
It’s 9:00 PM where I am. Insomnia’s grip on me seems to be loosening and sleep closes in. Finally. That *******.

Every night, for the whole of three months, I lay in bed awake at night, pleading with him to let me rest. Then, suddenly… out of nowhere, my mind begins to wander; dangerously. I am a gypsy, a mystic, an architect, artist, scientist, astronomer, an angel, Satan himself and, most recently, a poet.

I haven’t written poetry since 4th grade.

My dream spirit comes. I’ve missed her.
Neurotica Dec 2012
Victims of our own romanticism, we are. All too often we are caught buying into the version of “love” that we have been fed; two halves of a whole - both incomplete without the other. But, I am not. I am whole. Complete; as is the love that I experience.

Our expectations rob us of the chance to love infinitely, wholly.

My survival is not dependent on any other, nor is my capacity to love dependent on whether that love is returned; without expectation… and I will.

Sometimes, 1 + 1 = 1.
Neurotica Dec 2012
Smug love
Malevolence and misery
I will follow you anywhere
But not there
That path is yours
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