Every fear is fear from getting hurt.
We fear to love, afraid of rejection and getting hurt.
We fear height because we're afraid of falling and getting hurt.
We fear darkness because of what's probably in there that might hurt us.
We fear certain insects or animals because they might bite and hurt us.
We fear fears because we fear from getting hurt.
in the Void
(makes trial & jail seem almost
a Kiss in the Storm
(Madman at the wheel
gun at the neck
space populous & arching
a cabin attic
Your own face
in the mirrored window
fear of restroom’s
white wings of
grey velvet deer
The car a craft
& your past
to warm you
The Lonely HWY
Afraid of Wolves
& his own
who lives under the rock
has invited me
to drink of his cool
Not to splash or bathe
But leave the sun
& know the dead desert
& the cold men
who play there.
Come on, now
luring the Traveller
Curious, into its dark womb
The graves grinning
Indians of night
The eyes of night
into the brothel, into the blood bath
into the Dream
The dark Dream of conquest
into night, Westward into Night
The only part of my day
That I look forward to
Is when I go to bed
And lay there making up scenarios
In my head.
I think of comebacks
To 8th grade bullies.
I think of witty retorts
To my mother's snide comments.
I think of intelligent things to add
To conversations I had months ago.
I think of all the things
I was too scared to say.
And in my mind
I say them.
And pretend how things would be different
If only I had the courage to speak.
Glide your fingers down the railing
As you make your grand ingression
Meeting the faces you are destined to meet
As they fasten their first impressions
You are one to worry what they think
And wonder how or why
But, know that they have trained themselves
To create facades and alibis
They would be just as scared as you
If they were the ones walking down that stair
So hold your head up high, my dear
As if you did not care
I'm afraid of losing my parents.
I'm afraid of death.
Never finding the "right one" is a fear.
Not being financially stable is a fear.
Never being genuinely happy brings me fear.
However, my greatest fear is not being great; not being successful.
Opia. Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking into someone's eyes, which can fell simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.
As you lie in my arms, watching the television, you don't notice that my undivided attention is focused on you. Something I've been dreaming of for weeks, and it's finally come true. Even better, from your angle, you can't see me staring into your eyes, so I don't feel the nervous compulsion to turn away. Whether directly or not, I could drink in your eyes with mine, for hours, and they would be among the best hours of my life.
Then there's the other hand, held tightly by trepidation. I love the prospect of your eyes staring into mine, but it's not without its fears. I'm afraid you'll see all the pain and fears that I've spent the past seven years working to overcome. I'm afraid you'll see all the insecurity and doubts I have about myself. I'm afraid you'll see all the words that I long to whisper in your ear, but can't, because I'm terrified of scaring you away. I'm afraid you won't like the fact that, behind these eyes lies only pictures and thoughts of you. But most of all, I'm afraid that, unlike me, who loves every detail, and lives for moments like these, you won't love the things you see. I long for the day when you stare happily into my eyes, but I'm frightened that you won't enjoy the secrets they reveal.