On this weird evening all i can think of is you and all the things that we've missed out on, it's like i have stopped it all for you and don't even know how to begin again. My mind is not at rest even when i tell myself how foolish i am to keep longing for you. In all this i still feel hope and i feel something more. You are ordinary but i see you extraordinary. On The Night Where The Air Stands Still In Waiting; The Sky Is Bleak And Misses The Stars, Loneliness Becomes Inevitable. Even The Presence Of Humans Can't Shake Away The Persistent Feeling Of The Absence Of Someone So Important. Loud In The Ears Are Sounds But No Connection; The Mind Is Screaming Into An Endless Tunnel And Only Echoes Are It's Reply. Even With The Thoughts And Visual Image, There's No Change In It's Stance, Yearning And Craving Seems Endless, Swirling In To An Unknown Destination With No Idea Of Moments Passing; It's One And Only One Need, It's Reached The Zenith, Now Restlessness Is Company. The Mind And The Heart Concurrently Sends The Same Message To The Brain, Asking For Solutions For It's Turmoil. In This Distance Of Affection, All And Everything Around Seems Appalling. It's strange how i still think about the possibilities, i only hope to myself that i am not mad or going mad. There times when i miss you like rain for expectant Farmers, then i go mad at you for little reasons and decide that enough is enough. Then i try with all of my will to neglect you but it's something i can't do, cause my heart reminds me of you and so does my prayers.
There is a funeral pyre I built as I walk. A parade of orange flames down the street, blue centers lapping like puppies trying to get my attention. And I let that ache burn with the ashy residue that lies thick on all my clothes and the tongue where I kissed you. I left the love, I left the lover but, Oh! the embers wear me round my neck like a like an sailor's orange sky Struck a match to patch the hole. And everywhere I go I am the mourner and the deceased. Outliving the everlasting, wearing thin evermore. sahn 8/9/16
i worry in tenses. past, present and future to stave off the huntsman whose after my head. dire regrets are no more of a reaper than the incubus lying still under my bed. it's not the long shadow that quickens my heartbeat it's who he belongs to frightens me so. not what i acknowledge that gives me cold blood chills it's all of the lovers i'll have to forego. Cerberus came once to settle my debtor handing him payment, i'm awful contrite. for now one can love me and no one can mourn as i'm burdened to love him in black hematite.
i watch his magic trick in the morning by the sink with the crunch of the blade he goes from monster to man... with the sleek silver rake he goes from mine only to the all the worlds. and i am jealous of the world my eyes watch him as he clears the charming stubble and tames the wild curls. and i peek at his belly, soft and pale with sprouts of hair like a man jungle. and i watch him with the cottoniest of cottons ironed and pressed shirt like a gift wrapped tight- edges and clean lines. i close my eyes and inhale because next i will smell his smell. and keep them closed for him to lean over inhale and kiss me goodbye. i don't want to hear the door close but it does. and i watch the hands as they tick tock and i watch that **** door that let him go become the door that brings him back home.
Thank you as always for being such a wonderfully supportive group of amazingly talented artists that take the time to share in my work.
It all spins gravitational pull and I- astronaut distance orbit it sadly. My only regret- out in the black nothing is not feeling my back against brick one more time. Push me against the cold and cutting and kiss me with your hands by my head. Ever so cleverly holding the wall- holding the world. Holding out on me. As I tumble, astronaut girl and look at the blue beneath my toes my only regret is not learning how fly that kite. Learning how to ride currents with colorful useless beautiful toys. So very stuck, was I, on all of the moons That I never took to dragons with tails or red and black scales and days taken hostage and grass that can lasso and pull me in earthbound. Now I am anchored to nothing and watch as the blessed and foolish dance at weddings and funerals and I watch from above. Astronaut, I am my only regret is that all of this time I've spent farming the stars I never did learn to correctly love you.
thank you for sharing in my work. i explore isolation and loneliness in this piece
You will learn my rhythm and lean in when I talk- The smell of me like petrichor perfume will linger on your shirt. Feel of my lips like satin ties of the ballerinas shoes will wind around your mind and tie across the gooseflesh on your arms. You will know I have come before my hand lifts to knock, and your heart will quicken- echo percussion against the chambers. You will remember the last wet place we walked with one umbrella. And when it rains you will fill buckets with longing to fit our slick bodies underneath its black shelter again. You will knot your tie and straighten your collar and your body will stiffen because it remembers. You will have a track mark like the silver needle bullet chasing through your veins- that recalls us. Like tongue recalls salt, like wound recalls harm- like child recalls before being born- like the prayer remembers before being sung. like the rock will recall that the ocean was there and the cell will recall being painlessly split and you will remember with such vivid lust and you will love in a timeless loop. And I will love you over and under. We will love till we're small again, Love as time resets again And then do it all once more, Again.
I think of this as the story of lovers being reincarnated again and again and getting to fall in love all over each life. Thank you for sharing in my work.
What day was it, exactly when you asked? I'd never thought not that far out: But. I want to sit by the mountainside. Hear the brook every morning- gather up river stones build up a path. Drive an old chevy truck. Red. With radio made for blasting. I want a moonroof and plenty of stars in the sky. I want to see faraway places. Hear funny voices say funnier words. I want to visit-then I want to come home.
I want to cook like they do in NY And garden and pick pretty flowers. To grow older and watch as my babies grow old. I want to visit pyramids. Buy trinkets at Parisian stores. I want to see Venice- make my way thru watery streets. But then I want to come home.
To that mountain. by that creekside. Feed the squirrels and watch red robins. Write under a tree. I might want to go west- Drive down highways fast stay up in Vegas, Late. Wear sparkly dresses. Drink pricey champagne close to the bay. Any bay will do. I want to find light in the India bustle and color in Ireland's green and then, I want to come home. I want four corners and I'd love seven wonders, But still- I'd want to come home.
I'm difficult and broken -and not at all difficult and broken in that oh-im-so-difficult-and-broken-beautiful way that some women can be. No. I'm just difficult and broken in all the ugly ways it manifests.