Alone within my emotional wilderness

A reverie along memory lane when, this lviii sea sunned
row man (stills paddles in oarlocks and serenely quizzically,
lackadaisically, and harmoniously drifts) along the slip
stream of time. Awash on his figurative manual navigated
opportunistic prideful quintessential schooner reflects,
regales, and revisits ebbing lapsed instances (fast receding
into the past time, when psychological instability grounded
fragile my self esteem (generated venting, steaming, and
piping hot brickbats). As a newly minted harrumphing,
grubbing, and floundering dada enmeshment (analogous
to a fish caught in a net, hence quickly ricocheting, rabidly
splashing, and sloppily thrashing) predicated my foray
into das fatherhood. Aye experienced nearest approximation
Bing battered, rammed, and torpedoed from glomming
(par for the course riot ting heaps) necessarily imposed
adult responsibility. Such metaphorical motoring across
avast Battle Creek with no landfall in sight, this then nada
so Grand Turk (key in the straw) Otto man continually
snapped, cracked and popped. This human ping-pong
fitbit part player papa felt akin to subjection re: thralldom).
At this juncture in me cross currents of existence I can
harken back to those most exhausting, fatiguing, and
grueling endeavors. Hindsight offers this aging baby
boomer the luxury to cast astern. Retrospective leisurely
trawls along the shoals throes of fatherhood allow,
enable and provide and opportunity to scrutinize per
chance, where arises this on account of the empty nest
syndrome. Ordinarily the wife (i.e. missus to appear
more formal), would caw out my name nonstop….
”Matt”…”Matt”…”Matt”…, but she opted to organize
the cluster of assorted household items at the apart
ment (located in Crum Lynne – Ridley Township),
we hope to move within a fortnight. Thy spouse
volunteered her own mini reprieve by setting order
to the miscellaneous fixings gradually amassed,
appropriated, and gifted thru out the twenty plus
years of marriage, which hodgepodge of personal
possessions downsized whence circumstance dictates
evaluating goods having keepsake meaning versus
anomaly of belongings to be unloaded, repurposed
for someone else, or ordained as unworthy to schlep.
Alone asper like a very brief sabbatical from marriage
finds stillness amidst the white noise of the whirring
fan. Thus, I sit here ruminating how to dredge up
some idea for a poem,  (non) fiction or essay. This
husband became acclimated, conditioned, and em
bossed with a mate a tete for two plus decades,
whereby both thee dos delightful daughters on
Track 742 heading west. Honest to dog, I miss
the role of fatherhood when either off spring
(with an age difference of approximately twenty
five plus months) romped, scampered, and trotted
as toddlers, and upon childhood, thy little girls
found exultant excitement dashing higgledy-
piggledy, hither and yon, to and fro across the
playground as most glorious human indulgence.
Despite the plaintive wail vis a vis Juliet saying
goodnight to Romeo (…parting is such sweet
sorrow) haint pleasurable atoll. Hitherto un
known that during the most vexing, trying,
and quaking bouts when both kin of thy ****
fought like angry cats would there transpire
the occasion of sincere tearfulness ululating
vain warbling. Now a pang of nostalgia arises
when I drive past their happy go lucky stomp
ping turf, or reflect on answering the trumpet
call to chauffer one or thee other to amusement
park, play date, mall, favorite toy store such as
Fivebelow, birthday party, et cetera. Even
certain tunes recalled to mind and/or heard
being broadcast across the audio logical spec
trum a cause for moistened tear ducts. Wince
with sadness also mixed with sigh lent bundled
expostulations of joy. Both progeny metamorphosed
into able bodied, minded and spirited lasses,
whose attainment far exceeded any projections
internally forecast. Initial onset of parent role
found me all thumbs. Prior to begetting two
darling dames, this chap spent disproportionate
number of hours sequestered within some hide
away, which frequently happened to be the
designated bedroom at 324 Level Road, College
Ville, Pennsylvania, 19010. Never did thee major
rit tee days of mine life point to babysitting or
working with that chronological demographics
comprising the adoring blessed innocence,
murmuring newborn obliviousness, that bespoke
penultimate unsullied, utmost virtue necessitating
interaction with tender infants beckoning being
cradled, endearingly fondled, demonstrably easing
fondness gripping heartstrings issue jetblue kinks.
Aye felt pitched headlong into this foreign territory,
and initially experienced utmost awkwardness when
attending, pampering and pulling (albeit gently)
upsy daisy, the nascent hint of autonomy. Remembrance
and recollection of élan, joie de vivire, and yea those
ear splitting threshold of pain screaming tantrums
all boxed into tidy wholesome Zen announcing
nuggets of greater meaningfulness and absolute
value. The above long winded reverie intended and
meant tubby a semi biography, but leave hit up to
his hie n hiss, he went way overboard, and will give
a one line summarization to describe his i.e. yours truly
life sentence fate decreed. He (this Anglophile chipper
chap lived under duress of extreme anxiety, obsessive/
compulsive behavior, panic attacks and essentially
schizoid personality disorder for the greater part
of his life and hard times, which raw bits would
warrant fleshing out to extrapolate how these psychic
pitfalls represented critical factors at various and
sundry turning points in his life.

I lust for you
to think of me
daydream
of your scribbled greetings
of your silent longing,
your thoughts of me
(thinking of you)

thirsty
for some confession
of truth
something drastic, something new

in this stagnant springtime

colours, bright and harsh
yet they fall upon me
oh so dull
the wind avoids my skin
walking in a vacuum
so constantly numb
so ardent for
a crack in
the continuity

it subdues
any passion
even my hatred
for routine

letting me subconsciously
slip
into the nightmare
of the "american dream"
the steady pretending
this enmeshment
it infects
the very seams of
my existence

The waiting list has an opening
Here's to new hopes and beginnings.
Will therapy benefit me once again
or will I end up hurt in the end?
There is so much I need to fix
and so much to come to terms with.
I never noticed,
and because of me the one who was closest
no longer is.
Why did things have to turn out the way they did?
It's so cliche but I'd do anything to start over again.
There is nothing like having a friend
who you feel so connected with
But when I pick through my nostalgia
I'm left to wonder where the connection is
What do I really know about you?
What was true?
Where did things start to go bad?
The exchanging of passwords I think.
I think that's where it began.
After I saw the things you had said
My heart started to turn black.
It's normal to be mad and say things you don't mean when you don't think anyone's looking.
But you were so important to me back then
I will never forget the feeling I had.
I should have just told you back then that it hurt my feelings
Gotta love growing up with no boundaries
No choices when it came to yes or no
I got hit if I contemplated it
Came to write poems on the internet
And would be groomed by countless men
Think I was in love because of things they said
But I was eleven and they were gross
I played games with you and laughed
Then I'd cry to men I didn't know
In exchange for pictures that made me feel like an adult
Infatuation is a ***** for middle school kids
At least for this girl it was
I'd word ***** so much
Honestly I never stopped
Validation is a drug stronger than any other
I love to feel like I matter
Especially when I care about the person too
I think that's a huge key to why we were a we in my mind.
Whenever I was with you I was high
Until I wasn't, jealousy hit me hard
When I'd see you making plans with others
I always wondered why we couldn't call
Why it was awkward to play games after all
The time that passed between us
I think you knew way before I did
Just how toxic I was
Another guy and I broke up
My insecurities told me you thought I was a ****
A new relationship and I was gone
I don't think we spoke for months
This relationship is different
I think I'm actually in love
I debated infatuation since learning what it was
I wanted to talk to you about it
Eventually I did
I smothered you and hated when I couldn't
Months go by, I'm still word vomiting
You try to set boundaries
I still can't read the messages without crying
I didn't understand and chose to pretend instead
I ignored you and you distanced
It felt like you had passed away.
I try to say hi and it's so awkward
I wished I would die
You reach out and I feel so happy I could fly
I tell you everything I had been holding in
You disappear from my inbox and I cry
This is so toxic I'm in bed grieving a friend
Left to wonder why I do this
The counselor on the line says enmeshment
And I hate myself as I sob to a stranger about you for an hour.
Searching for therapists never made me feel like such a loser.
Wait list, wait list full, wait list
Months pass
You didn't wish me a happy birthday and for the first time in years I didn't tell you either.
I sent nothing.
I'm a bad friend.
New job, New accounts, New acquaintances
I still think of you but only cry on the drive home
Sun sets are pretty
I sit outside with my dog and look at the sky
I think she can feel my pain when she looks in my eyes
It rained for weeks and now the leaves are changing around me
I can live without you and you without me.
You reached out and I crumbled again
I told you about my 988 experience
Why do I do this
I have an episode
I'm the heaviest I have ever been.
But I'm off the therapy wait list.

Overstepping the limit
The line once drawn by
The enmeshment of all familiar faces
Conditionally loving their reflection
In my face
The pain of falling
Of being alone in the dark is so
Overwhelmingly tangible
But ones who dare
Ones who soar high
And fiercely live
Fall into themselves
Willingly
Off the cliff of familiar
And into the unknown
But deeply felt
Light
Of creative release

I’ve been searching for
what I didn’t get.
As a kid,
would talk to strangers
with no fear.
Teachers couldn’t get me
to stop talking.

No one can get
close enough.
I always want to be closer.
Is that enmeshment
or love?

In high school,
I found people like me.
At 18,
I always had people to call,
so I would never have to be
alone at night.
Maybe it wasn’t
real friendship,
but it was better than nothing.

As a kid,
being alone in the house
felt like death.
Still,
without attention,
I feel like I’m dying.
If I don’t get love
when I need it,
I must be unlovable.
What’s the point of living
without love?

Lack of love
is the slowest way to die.