I never tried to hurt you, I never ever wanted to hurt you. There is no way that you can write without drawing out the best parts of the warmest and most loving hearts, but every time ones such as yourself draw from me (without your even knowing it) the best I have to give in response, I still somehow end up ******* it all to hell.

There is no way whatsoever that a person who conveys their innerworkings and trauma the way that you do should ever slip through the cracks-- unloved, unheld, and un-cared for by loving, supportive hearts.. (and I'm not talking about romantic love..)
I have an idea who it is that you are in real life, by what you have chosen to convey of yourself and your story throughout the years.. but that doesn't really matter either, I guess

because history tells me that my unfiltered way of talking would just **** that up also.

But if an honest struggler such as yourself wanted a ****-up artist to never give up responding from the heart.. if that is what it takes to help keep the wild, unfettered ones like you (at least, writing-wise) from slipping, alone into despair, then that is what I will do.. not give up either.

But trust me when I tell you, babe.. I am burned out also.

Never, ever give up believing. If there were enough ones such as yourself (as to what you are writing here), or even just you, alone-- continuing to write open-heartedly the way you have in the past, and again here.. I promise that I would not give up also. If you want to be held closely when the ravens come and have picked your hope clean, then that is what you will most likely receive.. and I dont necessarily mean from me. I have studied your heart and spirit through your chosen posted words almost since the very first day I got here.

There is no way that others cannot both see and feel those things also, kid.

Hold on to that.

(you sweet..  succulent,
                       tender  little ****..)



"I don't know what to keep
and what to throw away, Paul"


"All of it, young love..   none of it..
I mean wait..     what?"


"All's I'm saying  is..
I can finally see myself  in the
reflection, now that the mirror's
wiped clean. Problem is..  I can only
hold on to it for so long before it all
completely goes away again..

    the image of me, I mean"


"Ah. young Lovely..
the insurgent is embedded   far too
deeply  into the City  called,
'All of who it is that you are'
To engage it or try to take it out right now
is  going to create far too much
collateral damage"


"Then what am I to do..
how am I going to be able to hold on?"


"I have an idea, young love..
       Shhh..  listen--"

The center of the City is a hub..
the roads leading out (back in);
the spokes of a wheel

The road alongside,
is traveled  by so many
I am the rust on the rim
that aches  its way in

It is so much work
to return to that of Titanium
The beautiful Hub begs
  I do my best.

I marvel at the fact
that I have not yet even  begun
to find what my best really is.


Let it be..     No..

  May it be..



   ..that  of the world

           of  the  Unlimited

Prairieland grass--
bent over towards the ground
by the dry, Fall wind
as the subtle warmth
  of a teasing Sun..

Submits itself to the
now impending Winter..
where grass and seed
sleep in dormancy
as the subzero wind
prepares the ground  
to receive  snow.. upon snow

upon snow.

..And there is this temptation
to draw feelings   and conclusions
from any one certain  part
   of the whole.

And those feelings and conclusions..
                             --they feel so very real

Because they were based upon  the real;
but only a part of the beautiful whole..
And though,  even  one part of the whole
is as real as every single  other part..

It is  in itself, incomplete.
Just as the bent-over prairiegrass
under the snow  is incomplete..


It is Spring now..  sweet, struggling Angel

    All things become new.

She is hiding behind her projected frumpiness..
but when my young lovely takes off her glasses;

   Ah,    ****..

Those eyes are the reason men were given theirs.

Group facilitator is Christ incarnate..
                                      I am sure of it.

     "How well do you want to get, Paul"

I look over at her--
curled up on a chair pad..
hiding,  wondering
Looking down.. and then looking up at me
wondering if I'm gonna answer him;

      "Paul?  Are you there?"

I stare at her--  all alone,
biting the back of her fingers
fighting tears few in this world
would understand


There is roll-playing  in the group
using both action and Word
   to climb all over me
   and uncover me from where I hide.

He (my Jesus with an MA)
is staring at me,  inviting
I look back over at her
"I'm not leaving it, Dave"

              "Leaving what. Paul?"

"My brokenness..
its shattering of my soul"

He is staring at me, but begins to smile.
I look over at her,  and just know

  I will be with her forever

"I'm lying in my bed, the blanket is warm
This body will never be safe from harm
I still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal
Touch my skin to keep me whole

If only you'd come back to me
If you laid at my side
Wouldn't need no Mojo Pin
To keep me satisfied

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so

Oh, precious, precious silver and gold
And pearls in oyster's flesh
Drop down we two to serve and pray to love
Born again from the rhythm
Screaming down from heaven
Ageless, ageless and I'm there in your arms

Don't wanna weep for you, I don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so
So, so, so

Oh, the welts of your scorn, my love, give me more
Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more
Well it's you I've waited my life to see
It's you I've search so hard for

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so, so
Black, black, black beauty"

~Jeff Buckley
Tim's beautiful, beautiful boy

To want to learn how become comfortable with who it is
that you are.. within your own skin, is the  firstfruit  beginnings
that will lead into the healing and resolve of your  inability
to be alone, and the overwhelming need of your  current
emptiness to have its debilitating loneliness filled in ways  
that in the long run, bring about more harm into your world
than good.

What I brought to you involves the less traveled road  that leads
into true healing and resolve of this primary and current
issue of yours..  
    but at this point, that is not what you want.
The emptiness  you will now have filled in your own current way,
   but it will come at such a cost.
You were built to become healed into the fullness
of who it is that you are..
and the comfort within your own skin
that fullness will bring to you..
and therefore to your whole household.

That process takes time.
It is difficult and uncomfortable.
It takes trust and the desire to truly love yourself.

I did not lie to you.

You can start again with a different supportive,
loving friend..

if you are fortunate enough to find one.



I hope for you that you do.  
xox

What if I'm right..
and the  strange things  I do
(that seem so "cruel" to you)
are the only way that you can finally
become  able  to  truly see?  
What if what you once felt  to be cruel
entended up being the most  loving
thing you've ever experienced?  
I'm not downplaying what I've done
  or trying to minimize it
or justify my actions in any way at all..
I am just trying to tell you that the
original damage went into you with
severity and it's own form of selfish
violence.  

Breaking that severity can never be a very pretty thing.

What if my love for you,  and the
strange way that I do it
is the only thing that would have
  ever worked

to help you to finally have a chance?



I am broken too.. and  the only way I
can truly enter into your brokenness

     is when your  brokenness


b re a k s



              against mine.

(..and the wonderful Art of Archery)

There are the thought processes..

borne within depths, similar to a near psychosis.
Muse.. within its deepest forms, can bring one
   into the Realms of the surreal..

which in truth.. are the Realms of the very very real.

Those who fight within those Realms, carry upon
their very own persons, the casualties of war
that most are wholly unable to see.. or even feel.

     Within one's own, Inheritance..
     we take on  from another--  
                   through empathy,

     levels of pain, and darkness
     that are far beyond the ability
     of all current human word's description.

Even the shortest detachment
from the everyday normal,
such as time away of any kind,  
puts us risk  of being   plunged into,  
       not only the Realms..

       but into the empty spaces
       between those realms.

         And through it all,
   we are somehow  meant to survive
   this far too often  harsh, and empty world--  


        With our Magical Spirits..  
        and God-given Inheritance,  intact.

When you are Loved,
and so deeply cared for;

There is nowhere to run..
  Nowhere to hide

The only thing you can do
(under the warmth of that beautiful Hold)

     Is to slowly unwind..
     Until  you  Become.

It is already in you, Love..
buried behind the horrible Residual.
Remember..?

Within the soon to crumble Wall..

within the Corruptible,
that was so unfairly and horribly
     corrupted

Is the  absolutely Beautiful  in you
that has been  (and always will be)
     Incorruptible
.. preciously-Hidden, behind the wall


"It is Incorruptible..
It cannot undergo Decay"

You are in there, sweet-one
   buried underneath
every horrible part of it all.

      As the wall comes down..
      Love will find you.


   When allowed,
   it always, always does.

A polite smile,
a wave..

And everything,  unknowable
is made so flowable.

Thus is the world.
Thus is your world.


I will choose to die in obscurity
unknowable, too.  No gravestone
No memory.

Nothing.

Thus is my world
created by a world

so intentionally, unknowable.

In the name of love..
in the name of   the Value
you bring to the family

In the name of  just how  good
you can make Grandfather feel
on that worn-out, old brown chair

What were you when he started...  four?
He said he loved you
He said this is what love looks like

And you took it into your little mouth

And in an instant
a sweet little, innocent child
became an un-feeling, little product

Of the un-feeling  love of man

A six month whirlwind
of friendship--
mixed with  an
impassioned.. unexplainable,
   I  don't  know

Hope against hope:
the dream, Unfolded
right before  my own
deeply-imbedded cynicism;
As the most  incredible
Lazarus  of all
came forth from the tomb

I am angry at things of the past
and tell God that he hates me..
But I know it is just a lie

Your very existence  tells me
that his  hatred  of me
  is just a lie


Your love for me  undoes
every lie I have ever known

Word and thought exist
in their unformed state
within the Aether..
which in itself,
is without beginning  
nor end..

And so it is within that union
into the Perpetual
that words and thought
are metabolized into existence..  i.e.
"Brought out into the light of day" ..
within the working  agreement
of body, mind, soul and spirit..
which in part, is of the finite..
    and in part of the eternal..

Which all,  in itself
places us in commune  with the Aether;
(and all of the spirits  within
that it contains)

And so the circle of inspiration is complete,
      but clearly..
      not only is it without beginning,

          but also..  without end.

The new act of  
burning one at the stake
now takes place
within the art of ghosting

Somewhere in the past,
you were deeply affected within your interaction
with one of my accounts.  I don't know who you are
(who the person is that is leaving tangible fingerprints
on the keyboard of this account I am speaking to)..
I can only guess,
but I am fairly sure that my guess is accurate,
     so I will keep all of that to myself,
so that you can freely and without fear of being found out,
go back with me to that place inside of yourself  that felt so well
met and seen back then.

In turn, no more *******, devaluing of love
the way that you do so often at close range.

If you pull that horrendously harmful **** again,
I will pull away again, but this time.. never come back.
That being said, I will not leave you hanging,
(or do my best to not to)  
if you bring  towards me  the need within you..
that through your memory,

you so well believe that I can satisfy
(and you already know that I am not talking about the ******).


You feel the deep, internal response--
from deep within that body of yours,  
when love warmly touches  
previously untouched places within you

And you spin them out publicly right in the midst of our
closeness of interaction (which I think is really cool),
just please don't flay me for showing my humanity
by responding back to you sexually.
I will keep that side to myself,  if that is what it takes
to keep you from throwing me under the bus, yet again.
The ****** (within the closeness of warm, loving connection) --
((even in the world of support..))
that very sensuality so perfectly parallels..  
through physical, tangibly-felt metaphor..
all that there is also within the Realms
when it comes to the spiritual.

Healing of that which has become broken by the fallen
******-up version of love this world brings--
that type of healing and restoration back into wholeness
is what all relational closeness is meant to bring,  and stand for.
You want something that you deeply believe that I have,  
yet somewhere..   maybe in another life..
I must have hurt you deeply,
or you wouldn't be sending  all these finger-puppet forays
my way.

Come and get what you want and need,
and if you believe I am shorting you your rightful blessing  
by missing it..   or simply just being generically stupid,
then instead of flaying me publicly,  
privately come to me  in boldness,
   and shake it out of me--
that which is rightfully yours-- my healing-response.

and do it brazenly,  with a fierce, yet open and vulnerable heart
the way that you have shown in your poems. Maybe in time
you will find out all on your own  
that what you thought was hurtful from me,  was felt
out of perception,  rather than what was actual.
If I really did do something,  tell me what it is
so that I can own up to it and tell you that I am sorry
for ******* everything up that way..
if, in fact.. it was something I really did.

I will only talk to you  from here (my M Vogel account)
so that you can rise and fall
concerning what things you need most from me,  
solely

by the responsibility of you,
and of me.

You already know that I am Paul.
You can call me that,  or M Vogel,
or stupidface..
or any of my other account names if you want,
but get inside of here with me what it is that you came for.

If it is something that I am able to give or be a part of..
then know it will become yours  in time.
  You have the ability..
     even though being spoken to this way
    both wildly turns you on
    and completely scares you shitless
    (((and probably both at the same time)))
you have  proven,  through your posted words  
that you are actually able to be a part of   and do,
what has for so long  felt so horribly distant from you,
   and so horrendously impossible for you to attain.
You have earned every single part of this very rightful place
that you now have in here with me.

Please don't stupidly **** it up the way that you so well
and so often do.
You are brilliant, girl. We both know that.
Stupid things are possible because your world has had learn
to be so incredibly indirect in order to survive.
What has saved you up until now,  out there..
will destroy everything for you,   in here.
But you are human, and rendering old things   dead
may be too much to ask for.. so I will tell you now--

that even  if within your broken, PTSD-filter--
you make a mess of the closeness--  at close range..
then with poetry, find your way back into my heart--
by speaking solely from yours  as you have.
**** me over too insincerely and callously  without remorse,
and you yourself will have stolen  you--  directly from
that of the deepest of places within my own heart.

Your call, kid..
You are not a little 14 year old  clad in combat boots anymore.
Yours is a living, breathing heart--
left withering  within the dry desert of indirectness
that you have  been forced up until now  to live in.

*Every single day the sun comes up, anew. Those words mean everything to you for a reason.
Through love and accountability,  breathe life in to them.

That is how you will make them real.

...finally understand now that I never will be far. :)

When you spin off into your self-downer mode,
I have to pull away. Over the years, I have told
you over and over again that they are old messages..
so unfairly placed into you a long time ago by  others
    who in no way are you.
When you repeat those horrendously-dismembering
messages, I have to temporarily go silent..

so not to keep harping on you to stop  that
dead-end-street kind of ****.
At one time it horribly formed and defined you.

You are no longer that same horribly beat down person.
    You just at times think you are.
I am in love with that brain of yours.

I struggle
with the part of it
that still believes its ok
to think that way.

It is not ok to think that way, young Love.. not anymore.
You will struggle with the thoughts wanting to surface
and take control..        how could you not?
They were plunged deeply into you
with such a horrible and contempt-filled violence.
It will continue to take time for the hard-wiring  in you
to become slowly unkinked..   But love does that.

   You already know that also. xoxo