Brazenly in my empty room I seek revelation
i seek help and light

My God help me if you are there
and my God has listened,
entrusted me with the power to rise high in the air
but the moment was short and too false
although for the first time in my life I began to appreciate a moment,
but this was the one in which I was most lost, trampled.

I searched for more and begged for more,
God take off my sins - I shouted.

God this time gave me an answer and in a heavy voice said;
“My child, for me to really take off your guilt and despair,
you must face reality, face what is around you.”

And then an empty tear,

God, but why did you send me here then?

“My child, your path by your deeds chosen, your confusion by your own decisions indicated”.
and then darkness and silence.

Listening to this silence I sob
i want to stop, please direct me with light
but this time room was filled with unanswered questions

I sit high again
.
Higher, higher and higher

I know only one thing now,
God is his child disappointed

Existence makes me think a lot
I'm here right now

Reality is crushing me on every side
and I'm falling lower and lower
trying to climb higher, I stumble

Solving the concept of existence
it's costing me too much suffering

I reach for something
what makes me high and
higher, higher, higher
but only for a moment

although the moment is addictive
because my whole life I've been looking for this moment
where my mind will rest

Though I know it'll destroy me from the inside
for when I am clean, and my sins are upon my head,
is not easier at all,

And to stop, I need to know why

these moments addict me

please help me escape from reality
please help me get out of my head

God has listened to my requests, but he has given me the substances,
that fill me
allow me to go higher
but just for this **** moment

And now I'm lost
unfortunately
with much more sins

Here’s to scrumptious nights.
cats and boots and cats and boots
We went clubbing last night, to recalibrate
ourselves on the dance floor, where magic happens.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
To focus on sensory experiences, the beat,
and share in the fun and tangible sense of freedom.
cats and boots and cats and boots
Feel the wave, show your energy, be the wave
cats and boots and cats and boots
be disheveled, swing your hair like a weapon
abandon, silly, self-protecting vanities
cats and boots and cats and boots
flashing lights on dancing figures
make it all seem slo-mo and extreme.
cats and boots and cats and boots
It’s been too long since we’ve done it like this.
Work-worn, I’d lost my lucidity and stumbled badly on a quiz.
Lisa pushed my books onto the floor, declaring, “Get UP, we’re grabbing some bliss.”
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
failure has a reality, a gravity and pull all the more shocking in relief.
I’d started out the evening gloomy and ashamed - a figure of regret -
but I’m better now, buoyed and recharged and soon I’ll have a plan - hopefully.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
There was a guy there, on the dance floor, who looked like a young Leonardo DiCaprio.
We made eye contact, nodding and smiling at each other in motion.
We gyrated, together, sort of, for a second, in our separate orbits - no conversation
I just watched him for a moment or two, sexualizing him like eye candy.
Just seeing him was sensual fun and I wondered what he smelled like.
He had a gritty, sweaty, idealized beauty, like a dancing ‘David’
that no Michelangelo could ever capture in stiff granite sculpture.
The music ended - momentarily - we knew it would start up again
and we were there for it - til 1 or 2 am anyway - then it recranked.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and..
Lisa grabbed my hand, jerking me onto the dance floor almost
before I could set down my drink. Eeek! “Slow Down!” I yelled,
but my complaint was lost in the din and my involuntary laugh.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and..
.
.
Songs for this:
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker

I spend my nights
In shining armour
To intently avoid
With ardour
Any hint or sniff
Of Love
I can’t allow it in
Because
If my nights are left
Wide open
My heart unguarded will
Be broken
So I spend my nights
In shining armour
Alone and safe
For ever after

I hiked on the highest Mountain,
Swam the deepest Sea.
I fished in crystal Waters,
but success kept evading Me.
I felt Success, was a Race Horse,
that runs Fast and Free.
So I ran My Races with Blinkers,
but success never greeted Me.
In reality, Success is not a Race Horse.
But it's the field, on which it Raced.
Success had always, held My Hands.
I was Blind, in having it Chased.
Success is in the Journey,
I chose to climb the tallest Heights.
All this while, Success sat besides Me.
Watching Me, for Days and Nights.

Ah, how quickly do
Nights age & shatter - like old glass.
How short lived, the stars

the good old nights^

roam the recesses and the abscess of
our too small apartment in the the very
large, very long, very inescapable wee wee
hours of the dark session of the day, lifting
my tablet to inscribe/ reorder/ recorder her/
this one more in my personal history, with
rant, word elixir, a note to our plural selves,
thinking of English gardens drinking up my
water freshly flowing and flying to you, via
nighty nite storm clouds, or your rural falls

and white clouds cumulus do  not return, and I too,
as my mind ***** and slugs but all attempts to
pierce the walled in somber slumber FAIL.

The creative comes besty beast like when I am driven from my dreams to wakealate (dream+speculate with eyes open)
dream of our realities and the tv (she never
remembers to program to shut down), drones
on about some product with XL in the name
that will make the unsleeping walkers feel
so much-better.

but not, not us, for we turn exploratory and
listen to the humming, beeping, tiny little diodes
of Joseph’s colored coat, all the mini stimuli,
the lights that mark the modern blacker hours
of rhythm, even those who can’t dance, can sleep,
‘cept for me, for I am a tune disturbed, needful of
minding, all these a rhythm busters ghosting me,
as a prelude to a poem vision now freshly etched
on my mind and now upon your flesh, an animation,
of reanimated images of ancient statues, ancient
advertisements for fertility, the dream continuum
of our lives, beyond our clearly demarcated time
line, the human, gene based need to outlive our
bodies in-the bodies of our progeny are a recurring
motif…female fecundity,  statues, many cracked or
missing limbs, come to life and move around, wailing
with grief and anger and hope and desire

alas, alas, another ole good time night ramble,
amidst familiar places and new abscesses,
and I wonder, how am I writing this when both
hands cover my face, and yet I still envision?

Tuesday Apr 16
3:08am
(the year escapes me,
for notions of big times
are measured in multiples
of I can’t remember)

quiet high summer nights
waving off mosquito bites
and lips so dry
the tap tastes like nectar
a glass shared is sweeter, better.
soda like opal in the moonlight
should we order in tonight?
leave the window open. though it's raining
this is our little love remaining