I'm on a Bukowskesque roll,
pounding the poems out
seven or eight a night.
I know it won't last.
It's like a fast.
It's the hunger that
drives you.
And when you're starving,
you eat--then rest.
Not today, though;

I've hit
my stride.
And the night is mine for
the taking.

And the words are mine for
the ******.
And my heart, I am staking
on the fact
that
I will stay
hungry.

What a kind curse I have. I am built in my biological design to observe the world around me. To process and be able to understand concepts, how to use the information to benefit. My visual acuity to discern the physical world with clarity and capture as much floating light information that is ambiently around. A dissociated portion of my own psych that is constantly observing me and my mental state giving a pseudo "objective" view of whatever I'm actually doing. Even when inebriated, woozy, or having ***, being directly still aware of what I'm doing and what is happening to me. I am kind enough and seem to be attractive enough that people enjoy my company, want me around, and sometimes kiss me. I have a strong enough imagination to **** a little with my perceived reality. With a degree of fact, narcissim, and uncertainty, these are gifts.

I have such a poor memory. There is so little I retain from the information I receive. I regularly can not remember to do things. It takes a long time, with considerable effort, to commit something to memory. I lose grasp on a running thread if distracted. The gifts I have are wasted for doing anything to accurately and fully benefit those around me and myself. Even selfishly it is difficult for me to substantially gain from it. This is the curse.

I have no distraction from the exact moment I am in and what is happening right then. I am always present. I have the greatest capacity to observe the exactness of the life I live. I have nothing to do with what I have, other than enjoy it. To see the grandeur of the fact that is existence. That anything exists at all is a marvel and I am here to see it.

Breathe in, breathe out, a gentle flow,
Shifts in posture, let the tension go.
Adjust the level, find your place,
Acceptance blooms in this sacred space.
Pain may linger, but here we stand,
With open hearts and open hands.
Acceptance goes a long, long way,
In this place, we find our stay.

Among each other

no more fighting, just going --


with the flow, the flood.

Fish and waterfowl,

swaying algae in the shapes --


of statue remnants.

You don't have to force anything.

My love sent me to dig two graves,
One for her, one for me,
When our eternity has passed.
But instead I dug three.
One for her,
One for me,
One for my temptations,
That I’m tempted to take you see.
Even if I love her,
I still love the thrills.
So when I am old,
And life brings drafts and chills.
I will hold her close to me, to the grave,
But I will bring all the thrills,
They just don’t seem to leave me.

Feed your starving soul,
Let inspiration flow.
Thus you slip away;
Don't wait another day!

Capture every glance.
Still the water's dance.
Freeze the hands of time;
Your Spirit needs to shine!

Look now through the glass.
Don't let the moment pass.
Starving soul, feast on,
Before your spark is gone!

©KSS 11/2014

It begins

With fiery jokes about Canada  
And your hair, blazing, untamed

Is it maybe your stunning mind
I am simmering, 180 degrees

Perhaps it is the cookies we bake,  
The stories we share,
the laughter we shape
With such SERIOUS faces

I could look at you for hours.
Your beauty defies all word
But it's not even that —

Your charm and confidence  —
you wear them like a crown
—I know it must hurt

It could be your ambition
That I truly love so much

This burning sensation is so strange
I know you won't like this, but
This love, like wine, leaves me  
soaked, spinning, dizzy

I am just not used to this—
I've never wanted anybody to feel so good in life
But it is what I want for you

I feel so free,

You are too —

You know the moon is free falling too