Let me upthrust you
in an ocean of
crumbled ruins,
where sabotages of
my wailing heart
lies so that you
can get the
pleasure from a
joyous agony
that I still crave
for you!

Each night the little girl builds a fortress of pillows and blankets to protect herself from the irrational fear and the very real nightmares that overtake her in the darkness.  She forgot to build that fortress last Friday night...and left the extra pillows on the floor and the bear she sleeps with in a chair.  The above facts were brought to my attention the next night as the hus was heading to bed.  As typical, he exits the man-cave and stands in the hallway and announces that he is going to bed (as though I'm unable to see him?).  Then he says, as he says every night, "Come hold me?"...knowing that I will say, "Sure, I'll be right there." but 'right' really represents several hours...  Last night there was a slight deviation to our nightly verbal exchange as he said, "Last night you didn't build your fortress and I don't know what was going on but I woke up at 2:30am and I had like 6 inches of space in the bed because you were so close to me."  Hum...I guess I took the "come hold me" phrase seriously on Friday night.

I don't know why the deviation from my normal set up...but I do know that there is this desperate little girl inside of me who longs to be held, but other, more 'grown-up' parts inside of me who know we're supposed to be beyond that now and it will never be - nor will they ever allow that to happen.

I also know that a lot of the time it's difficult for the hus to understand where I am and what's going on with me...I can't even begin to explain it to him when I often don't know myself.  So I tend to air on the side of "quietness" in my communication with him too.  In other words, I don't often take off the mask in front of him, or ask him for help.  Part of me feels bad for him…I recognize that's it's difficult to have a relationship with someone with my history, and I can be more than a handful (understatement...understatement...) and it isn’t easy for anyone to stick with 'us' through the bad times...the really bad times.  I get that - and not just with him.

That's why I pull away instead.  It's difficult enough for me to deal with all the different and conflicting parts of me - how can I expect anyone else to do it with me?  The one who aches for reassurance and care, the one who sabotages any attempts to act like a sophisticated adult with her fears and desperate and confusing needs.  The one who aches with the desire to be loved, saved, fixed…on a never-ending search for something to make her feel whole, safe, "unmolested".  The sophisticated adult…the professional cold grown woman who hides her insecurity by pretending to be self-confident...some even call her 'stuck-up'.  The party girl who can only react to situations with humor and laughter even in the most inappropriate times.  The little girl who desperately wants to be held safely by someone who will not hurt her.  

How can anyone else get through to all of that?  I can't do it and believe me, I've tried.
Today, the sophisticated adult is holding steady at the helm...on 'therapy' day, which typically means she will act as though everything is great with the world, even though inside, everyone else is screaming and suffocating under the weight of the fear...sadness...anger...shame... hopelessness.  And it is virtually impossible to break through that exterior because she holds the key to lock others out...particularly the therapist because she needs no one, and that holds double for someone who told the 5 year old to "deal with it" because she is busy...and "make another choice since it's after 10 and the closed sign is out"...after being there way after 10 for the little girl for 2 years.

And then, late tonight, when the wind howls, and the snow begins to fall, and the coldness seeps inside of this body and weaves its way up my spine, the desperation will begin, followed by the crying...then the overwhelming fear and hopelessness that will be unrelenting and she will be inconsolable until she cries herself into a restless sleep and wakes up tomorrow with a migraine and swollen red eyes.

You might be thinking, "Nita, if you KNOW that's what's going to happen then can't you stop it?  Can't you make a different choice and let the therapist try to help you?"  

I don't know why it all seems so out of my control - I can watch it play out but I cannot intervene or stop it.  I wish I could...she won't let me use the key either to unlock the door.

As I navigate thru the hurls of Life my mind gravitates towards the seductive temptations that linger in the subconscious mindset that I have attained via constant repetitive behaviors that scar me beyond my control and understanding. I hold onto my faith and my sublime thought patterns that perturb my inner soul. Unknowingly recollections of subjected torture and sorrow that I am involuntarily accustomed to...I recite a prayer to my Holy Lord that he remove this impending feeling of agitation and aggravation towards how my mind works and self sabotages it's sober state of being. Maladapted and a Degenerate ******* I am because I do NOT have the strength nor courage to remain in constant contact with my inner self to be able to control my impulses to use Narcotics. Truly, I have finally realized am powerless and deathly spiritually sick with endless intrusive thoughts of ******* on a suicide mission alleviating the symptoms by succumbing to escaping reality thru the Narcotic Amplification slowly self destructing by the utilization of this ******* substances that keep me trapped chained and imprisoned within my body's constantly nagging me to continue to use the drugs to escape my feelings, thoughts and emotions...am left exhausted and incompetent to deal with Life's struggles and circumstances. Without doubt I know I need to learn to retain my sobriety NO MATTER THE COST. I cannot allow myself to continue to indulge in this illegal substances to temporarily make me feel better make me feel special make me feel extremely desensitized from my current problems I cannot afford to keep running like a ******* coward I must learn to face Life on Life terms...maintain my impulses under control retain my spiritual growth and keep grinding towards keeping my commitment to myself to NOT use anymore because it's slowly making me evil more devilish more violent more sinful and in the end it's just killing me to know I am not practicing self care nor loving myself enough to NOT practice this erroneous behavior that it's making me hate myself more and more daily because it's total insanity to continue to contribute to slowly **** myself due to the fact am literally paying for death every time I use drugs to deal with Life. A decade of this **** **** am so done with it... please Holy God take this punishment away from your Son who without fail believes in you loves you and has unfailing faith that does NOT shake because I rely on Christ to keep me alive and well. Enough of this madness I have walked thru enough darkness to know that am literally losing my willpower to maintain my health, happiness, comfort, belief, faith and livelihood. God I pray thee you relieve my destructive addiction and relieve my painful past allow me to LET IT GO...I know I will continue to fight this enormous disease with a strong composure and continue to sanctify my temple slowly but surely...God May You Walk With Me Thru This Journey Now & Till My Death. Amen!!!

Wednesday, May 29, 2014

Subject: You know how I am about letters



Do people notice when it starts to happen? Maybe not the first time—it can be hard to tell—but do they recognize a pattern? Are they able to appropriately react? Is it easy to detect such feeling, a reoccurring newness? When it happens, it swells and expands: building within and pushing out, resonating a specific sound, paralleling the pang of olfaction from the heavy stench of pheromones. It stimulates the senses and sends the hypothalamus into hyperactivity, the mind clouded with confusion.



I’m glad it happened. I’m glad we got to be friends, the way we were, the way we could still be. It’s easy to be around you, and I appreciate the feeling you instilled in me. Four miles and six beers later, I found myself with you, in your house, talking to your parents, experiencing a part of you I’ve never known. Shortly after, there we were, on your couch, and you were against me and I held your core, warmed by the heat of your skin radiating from beneath your thermal. It was nice, but it was the type of nice which is prone to burn. I didn’t expect to be there.



I could’ve anticipated that drinking so much would release my inhibitions, and given our mutual attraction and history I would have succumbed to you. Obviously, I did. Nothing more than a kiss, but I’m glad I did, even though to actively be swept away in the moment is dangerous. I’m notoriously attracted to it, and sure enough as I write this, I feel a mix of nausea and a dull inner ache. I want it to go away, yet I endure it, understanding it’s a consequence of recklessness. I wouldn’t doubt it’s karma. I don’t think you are, but I notice myself around you and can decide that I am often being reckless with my frivolity. It feels good at first, but like coming down from rolling, there is a lingering feeling of synthetically-induced haze.



I honestly didn’t plan on kissing you, but the night took us there. I did plan on giving you that poem, however. I’m sure you have interpreted it correctly, as I’d assume you’re capable of distinguishing metaphors (you do have a college degree), and now hopefully understand my perspective of our situation.



I wanted to run with you, I wanted to get a beer (also I had a rough day/week so I was kind of down to drink—coping of course) and I wanted to let you read that poem. Those are things I wanted to do, and while I wanted to kiss you, I didn’t. I’m glad I did and it wasn’t a mistake, but I think doing that too many times would be more detrimental than productive. I’m sure you got that theme from what I wrote you was influenced by the weekend I came to Salisbury; maybe you can see certain themes of that weekend in it.



I don’t know. I was just thinking about you and I wanted to express what was going on in my head. I wanted you to know. I was somewhat sad when I left Salisbury, wondering why you gave my no affection when saying goodbye, but I was relieved and grateful you didn’t. But now… I think about us meeting at my house in Fruitland and the four of us drunkenly deciding to live together. It just so happened that Rachel and I were discussing the possibility of her moving to Salisbury and she mentioned Scott finding a house, with my landlord, for $300 a month. Talk about timing. I don’t know what to make of it.



It’s unfortunate that timing doesn’t always accommodate feeling; ironically, more often than not, timing sabotages it. Personally, I have always romanticized things that were doomed to end. The reason I love Shakespeare so much (besides intellect like no other) is because he conveys tragedy in such a beautiful way. Consider it like thanatos vs. eros—there is greater appreciation for something that cannot last forever, because there is only a limited time to enjoy it. It’s sad to think, too often, we’re unable to enjoy things to their fullest because of this notion. Like life and death—if we could live forever would we value our time as much? Hell no, we would take everything for granted (humans already do, as we are prone to do so) and never give a **** about anything. What makes anything matter is being able to appreciate it, despite of how long it lasts?



In that regard, after coming to Salisbury again, I thought about you coming home and what would happen. I assumed you’d be moving to Massachusetts sooner rather than later and wondered if we would even talk. I still wanted to hang out and go running, but I realized it might not happen and I recognized that could happen.



I never expected anything from you. I know we always had a thing and have been flirty towards each other, but to establish a foundation of sorts didn’t ever seem like an option. I liked you unattainable, impossible, a little too late, the right person at the wrong time; it seems pretty sick the way I describe it and I’m well aware, but you were the perfect protagonist of the narrative of my painful romance with Rachel, where you restored my mojo and provided me with the ability to feel and create again. You broke up the dam of my writer’s block with your flow. You were a muse of sorts. I am not idealizing you, just describing what you provided me with.



With this being said, I hope you believe that the sentiments I wrote to you were honest, as were my actions. I have nothing but positive regard for you, despite the periods where we didn’t speak and knowing you was somewhat uncomfortable. I have only known you for a year, but we’ve been through a lot and I consider you a friend. As I stated before, I didn’t mean to like you, it just kind of happened. And like you told me, that’s life. It’s curious, but I wonder if I would like you as much if we had a chance. I know it sounds cold, and I hope reading it doesn’t sting, but I am only trying to be realistic. I’m sure you too have assessed it.



The point of this cyber-letter is to just let you know that I liked you. I’m glad we got to know each other. You influenced me and you left your mark, forever contributing to the me I’m going to be. You taught me a lot about a lot of things. However, as I stated before, timing doesn’t always accommodate feeling. You are a unique “perhaps” in my life, nonetheless. I wonder what it would be like if we were ever together in another world, but I cannot quite imagine it. I dream, but I am bound to servitude by analyzing each intricate detail of the situations in front of me, despite my occasional bouts of impulse. It’s a way to survive, and there’s a pattern to it. It all unfolds so suddenly, paralleling behavioral, weather and astronomical patterns. More recently, I have experienced this. I wasn’t hoping for it or expecting it. I was surprised.



You know how they say “If you’re looking for something you won’t find it, but things are found (or given?) when you’re not looking?” So far 2014 has been a great year for many reasons. Even the  little after -graduation struggle was a transition to build into what is now and what will be.



So….you know how I snapchatted you (and most everyone on my friends list—you may notice I ask questions) asking if going to a park was a date? Well. It wasn’t the first. I wasn’t sure the first date was even a date. He made no forward advances to indicate any kind of ****** interest. I thought he just wanted to hang out, and offered to pay because he knows I don’t make as much as he does. Right? That sounds valid. But still, I wasn’t totally sure. I initially assumed my brother would come with us, because we hadn’t ever been exclusively in each other’s company. So, he said he’d pick me up at 8:00 p.m. My brother told me he was going to hang out with his friend Chelsea and hadn’t heard from him. I will admit I put effort into my aesthetics, perhaps as a slightly narcissistic compulsion to emphasize what is heterosexually considered feminine. Even if we were just hanging out, I wanted to make an impression; also, some places in the National Harbor are really nice, so I wanted to look nice too. We talked for two hours until they were closing and then he dropped me off. I was home by 11:00 p.m. That was May 4th.



I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you served an egress from thinking about work, my brother, my mom: everything. Six beers deep and I was caught up. I did miss you. It was selfish of me to indulge in it, but I wanted to savor you one last time. I don’t think that’s a crime, but I acknowledge it’s emotionally irresponsible. Despite that, when I think about it all, knowing I have to decide, I realize it’s more logical to pursue that which has less risk of becoming hazardous. Am I to deny myself that opportunity? It’s divine how patterns align: specific variables, whether assigned or accreted, determine the true outcome. The rest is what we do, how we behave, and how the mystical law of cause and effect affects the subsequent possible outcomes. Such dissident circumstances are attributed to timing.



It’s been described as a chaotic sequence of events, life. But isn’t there order in chaos? Astronomical and Neurological perspectives serve as two notable examples of materialism establishing the foundations of life, as we observe it functioning, from both holistic and reductionist views, yes. It’s not irrational to wonder if, in a complex way we have yet to fully understand, we are a miniscule, yet essential, part of a functioning unit. The struggle is especially prominent when how we live is based off how we obsess over the desire to understand why things happen. Despite the patterns, it often becomes unpredictable and gets so ******* frustrating. Still, isn’t it wonderful how we can revel in fascination?



I’m sure you weren’t expecting all the prose, but I wanted to be honest and straightforward…writing is the way I know how to be. I want you to know I regard you as a cool person and I really like talking and running (and smoking?) with you. I know you’ll be around for a little bit.  I’d still like to hang out with you, but I understand if you think it’s awkward or there will be tension or something. Regardless, I like your company and our friendship, our memories, our bullshitting, etc. I’d still like to watch some FIFA games, too. Feel free to email me back or use whatever means of communication you prefer.

The padlock on the continuous barnstorm of a transcendent time whose bunkum is transmuted consciousness aligning with parallax to a congruent worldview is not axiomatic but certainly a veridical property of reality. The universe is as much concept as percept and both properties of consciousness that lead to adaptive behavior are tethered to the eccentricity of the observer rather than the oblong nature of the observed where errors in prima facie judgments delineate the saplings of humanity to beaze under the proctored sunlight of an eternal sunshine that withers seldom to the whims of capricious arbitrage of those whose hubris exceeds the limits of the intellectual frontier because they are gilded with bricolage mentalities that scaffold the skeletonized worldview rather than apprehending the concretism and synthetic arraignment of interrogable reality in a manner that acknowledges the factitious intersection of pioneering understanding and the corporeal existence of realities both transcendent in spatiotemporal mapping and reversible propinquity to the sensible acquisition of tangible knowledge. I contest the worldview of many philosophers as a callow retread of basic logic whose ambition is underserved by a desire for prolix pellucidity rather than cogent succinct promethean formulations that dare to muster the herculean task of demystification even if the entropy of formulation is always flawed by the jaundice of the observers rather than the disdain of the observable consensus. We swing by a filipendulous thread that dangles speculation and reifies the blinkered piebald world of spotty concatenations among neurons recognizing that incomplete associations become the staples of philosophies that are precarious in some logical foundation but sturdy enough to weather the vagaries of the bluster of mendicants who verge on comprehension but pale in comparison to the monolithic edifice of so-called truth when the defalcation of figureheads supplants the clerisy as the new proctor of knowledgeable assertion. I contend that foofaraw is a primeval instinct of community ecology that expedites the balkanization of otherwise unitive properties of society and ravages them with bickering based on clashing predilections that are bellicose and combative rather than irenic and balmy. The acerbic fates of many leads to a rudimentary pessimism or a chary optimism that chides against the fortified exegesis of divinity that can be both proclaimed and stultified for its latticework properties of buttressing society in a permutation that is nimble in some respects but too turgid and rigid in others. The goal of humanity is to become a pliable instrument of a pliable universe that does not rely on buzzword dogmatism or the masquerade of hollow punditry but that relies on self-reliant principles for ascertaining veracity and impugning mendaciloquence with vigilant alacrity rather than casual sportsmanship that reaches finality only upon the handshakes of a battle waged that concedes the impotence of gladiatorial spectatorship as just a gambit of the half-witted cockney witticisms and shibboleths of sportive diversion rather than consequential and decisive reckonings with the subaudition that undergirds all events of any consequence with either a clinched victory or a callow defeatism of a futilitarian worldview that stoops to reconciliation only to propitiate antagonism and buffer against the truculent brunt of weaponized coercion to checkered flags that arbitrate the outcome of a binary polarity of humanized affairs. The majesty of creation is that reversible boundaries can be permeated in a bi-directional manner through the artifice of concerted thought rather than the orchestration of a linear traipse through the deserts of an inclement fate won immediately when projected upon the tangent of any given velocity at any point of acceleration away from the targeted impetus that grants only a partial vantage, a cantle of reality that is fragmented and piecemeal rather than circular and emergent. The most dire battle that humanity faces is the attrition of circumstance by the purposive declarations of imperious authority that seeks to muzzle the ingenuity of many for the deliciation of the few creating an accidia among the clerical institute of thinkers that imposes hogra that few people can grapple with that they are marooned into a cloister that reaps fewer rewards for an ascendant intellect than a virulent libido can clutch with predatory gallops against the also-rans that fight for carnality rather than the ethereal principles lingering within the grasp of many if it became a cynosure of worthy heralded acclaim. We witness the mass fecklessness of giftedness as a shackle of those whose plaudits come intrinsically fortified but sustain none of the abuses that the pedestrians would like to obtrude upon enlightenment to curtail and abridge the art of invention like the coagulation of blood to rob the vitality of throbbing pulse of importunate self-discovery of its macroscopic vista and its telescopic foresight about the future hodgepodge of a recursive fractalized reality besieged by the enemy of linear logical formulations implemented by ivory tower psychologists to muzzle the empowerment of abstruse language in order to make savory the nostrum of the apothecaries of delegated truth bereaved of recourse beyond certain leaps they cannot fathom well enough to flicker with even a faint transient wisdom that is designed to be amenable only to the supernal nature of ideation rather than the caprice of bedazzled humanitarianism. We need to forswear the -isms that flicker with doctrinaire dogmatism and flirt with forceful harangues that exhort a codified message and launch veridical properties of recondite etherealism into an immovable orbit whose inertia can broadcast a singular message of recoil against puritanism in science or skepticism in faith. The bedrock of this message is the deployment of useful extravagance without inordinate delay, the drivel of malcontent transmogrified into the prattle of estimable giants that have stature among the leviathan enough to recriminate against the autarky of self-smug simpletons that infest the world with barbarous indecencies and crude prepossessions that abortively crumple when met with the acerbic teleological gravity of ulterior consequence rather than blossom under the siroccos of manufactured wind designed for windfalls that always create a crestfallen aftermath from the anticlimax of understanding leading to the desiccation of consequence and the engorgement of precedence. These frangible realities become buoyant because the physics of the public dialectic insulates the creaky rickety vestiges of canonical knowledge as a sworn precedent inviolable and immune as a building block of all scholasticism, a retread of parchment recycled over and over again to entrench the past as the titanic vehicle that dictates the future of thought even though the porous inconsistencies of the vagrants of crude formulation make such a vessel less seaworthy than scientism and dogmatism of the monolith would have you believe to be true. The querulous quips of the uninformed predominate with such clutter that the armamentarium against useful idiocy is stagnated into a resigned accord with infernal subjugation of the public volition to insubordinate against a system of parochial enslavement rather than a catholic enlightenment whose universalism of principle ensures a steadfast society guided by scruples rather than undermined by the prickly thorns of abrasive contrition and the magnetism of empathic concern that sabotages the clarity of intelligence and provides a welter in the place of a well-arrayed code of peculiar but defiant distinctiveness that acts as the splinter that cracked the intangible but refractory borders of human inclination and demonstrated the sheer force of golden consistency rather than fickle withering resolve. I exhort and implore the world to heed the best minds that realize the syncretism is answerable to contradiction rather than scuttled from beneath by the impudence of its assertions against the common propriety when it stakes controversy as a gamble to aver the veracity of worldviews that violate orthpraxy with gusto as a brazen gallantry to rescue a foundering planet that seeks disequilibrium in harmony rather than an equilibrated sensibility that is proud to discriminate properly and honestly to clinch fact rather than kowtow to factitious slumber of somniferous kumbaya that is too deferent to maxims that are unduly polite only because charisma supersedes genius in its efficacy to mobilize people to fulfill their roles. With the miscegenation of justice that occurs because of expedience we find holes in many legalistic precedents because they anoint pettifoggery over sensible jurisdiction and face a leaky and ramshackle fate to foment paternalism and divide the clerisy among certain key considerations in order to save face rather than to impose a clarity of orderly supervision that seeks to dissipate the embroiled spiderwebs of dodgy prevarication and quacksalver logic to once and for all ascertain the truth that lurks beyond the primal jaundice of Kafkaesque confusion.

This grip remains ever tight,
I’ve ended relationships because I refused to entertain long distance again,
I ended a toxic relationship with a flaxen beauty,
Because I refused to accept her brokenness,
Because I refused to try and fix anyone ever again

And I’m not alone because I haven’t had chances,
These were conscious sabotages,
Because I refused to settle for less than love

I will not settle for love that doesn’t throttle me,
Or drive me to ***** from anxiety,
I won’t settle for love that doesn’t set my skin on fire,
Or consume my thoughts like a pathology,
I won’t settle for love that I’m not terrified to lose,
Because I wouldn’t be able to breathe without it

I won’t settle for a love that I wouldn’t write poetry about until I’m ******* dead,
I won’t settle for a love that doesn’t make an addict out of me again,
I won’t settle for a love that doesn’t shove you away,
And I won’t settle for a love that doesn’t grip me as hard as your memory does

I won’t settle because nothing less will do,
Nothing less can rewire me,
Nothing less can fill this chasm in my heart,
And maybe I won’t ever stop loving you,
But I deserve nothing less than to love anew

Serenity of the Buddha fountain
graces our garden
His wise presence flows
steadily over thorns, thistle
and rocks that jut across the pathway
creating obstacles in our lives

There was turmoil, misery,
calamity in His generation
just like today
The Ravanas of our time
prowl earth’s gardens
seeking to abduct and ravage
goodness, love, purity, truth

Illustrious Gautama gained the perfect
peace that passeth understanding
by treading the middle path and realizing
that pushing the envelope
indulging in all types of extreme behavior
sabotages our mental, emotional and physical
well being

He declared to His disciples as they
wandered through the world that
desire is the cause of all suffering
and like the Master Jesus encouraged them
“to be in the world not of it”
This He knew could be actualized by
the right use of the senses,
loving, compassionate service to mankind
and having a still, tranquil mind
through the process of
meditation

Twilight dusk blankets the garden
The Buddha twinkling under a
panorama of evening stars
a crystal ball spinning luminously
in his hands
illumines our beaten path
from His radiant pedestal,
beneath the Bodhi tree
“The Sun of Enlightenment Shines”

Breathing is really difficult when you're a bad person. It's inherently difficult to function when you have something weighing on your conscious.

I know that I don't want to be a bad person, but why do I make bad choices? I actively try to not be a bad person but then it happens. The bad part of me slithers out. Doing things that have nothing to do with how I actually feel.

It's like having an evil twin. Someone who openly sabotages everything good about your life. The evil twin tells you that your truth isn't enough. They convince you that you're a bottomless pit. You can never be satisfied with what you have. The twin will seek out the situations in which you wield the most power. They choose the most distructive thing to do and then disappear. This leaves you, ~the good twin~, to pick up the pieces. To take responsibility for your actions.

As the person in control, I'm opting out. I'm going to fight against those temptations because I am satisfied. My truth is valid. And I know that I am good enough. I'm full of love at every side and I shouldn't have to seek it out.

Bored bored bored bored bored.
Here I am again. Same seat, same computer, same segregation from the rest of my working world. My face is open with a desire to help. The expression is real - I do want to help - any interaction is welcome. But as time ticks by the smile grows vacant, eventually freezing to a rictus.
People pass me, unaware.
Hundreds - well over a thousand.
The odd nod of acknowledgement and a few genuine requests for help keep the monotony at bay. But the steady stream slows to a trickle, and my smile dies with it.

Everybody is different. From the moment of conception to the dying breath - no two lives are alike.
But in crowds individuality takes a knock. Some are lovely, some are friendly, some are *****. Most are oblivious, blinkered into their own world or lost in the collective one - made nervous by the proximity to so many others.
Like sheep.

The worst they can really do is ignore me - at least the odd rude one is entertaining. Nine times out of ten I'm surplus to requirements, but I thank my lucky stars I'm not dealing with their empty bellies. There's something about buying food that brings out the very worst in people.

For me though, it's not the people. People are just people - the world over. It's the monotony that sinks my spirits and sabotages my smile.
But all is not doom and gloom.
Sadly it's not my colleagues that lift my spirits  on these long lonely nights - I barely see anyone. It's not even the computer that sits in front of me - with its world wide web of ones and zeroes encoding the entirety of human knowledge - it only really serves to change the boredom from upper case to lower.
What lifts my spirits is the view. The arc'd metal icons that span the silvery snake of the river from bank to bank. The fiery sunset echoing the shape of the bridges, it's light catching the shimmering water and exploding in every shade, glittering from red to gold.
Some things never grow old.

I need you in the moment
when I tell my friends I want to die
and they don’t even care
let alone even notice that I’m there

I need you in the moment
when I cry in the middle of the night
and I don’t remember why
let alone why it hurts so much

I need you in the moment
when I take the little courage that I have
and stand up, only for them to dismiss me
let alone change

I need you in the moment
when I show my cuts on display to the world
and the only thing anyone gives is judgement
let alone SAVE ME

I need you in the moment
when everyone else survives
and leaves you to rot in the darkness
let alone comfort me

I need you in the moment
when I realize I’m manipulative
and that this is all my fault
because I’m the problem
in my life
that sabotages my every move
and needs to LEAVE

Because I need you
in that moment
that you’re not there
because you were never anywhere
Let alone here

My beloved hermitage is under siege,
My beloved hermitage is under attack,
Who will save my hermitage?

The mayhem,
A fierce mayhem,
Invisible incredible unbeatable,
Roars roams and reigns,
All our strenuous efforts in vein
Who will save my hermitage?  

The mayhem in the shapes of human
Of the devil himself dressed in a suit,
Dressed in white you’d think is an angle,
No! don’t be fast in making conclusion,
For it could only be delusion.  

The mayhem bares its fangs,
Human pieces gone berserk,
A man beheaded by his own species
And symmetrically placing his head on the streets
To send untold messages to you,
Don’t know who?

The mayhem,
Reigning mayhem in my hermitage,
Leaving a trail of innocent blood,
Blood overflowing in our palms,
Rushing out our veins,
Staining the human race.  

The mayhem promoting impersonal initiatives,
Hooligans and hoodlums reaping where
They’ve never sown,
Marauding youths bringing mayhem in my hermitage
Acting like aliens from planet hell.
Who will save my hermitage?  

The mayhem has made
Humans go insane,
A mayhem beheading you, him and us,
Sending venomous fear chills
Masquerading us patriots.
Why this mayhem?
Why?          

The mayhem has become dubious
About inhumanity in humans,
Humans rearing mayhem in my hermitage,
People taking horrendous oaths
Oaths that are deadly and devilish.  

The mayhem sabotages My hermitage’s economy,
Pains and pangs of plights persists
Daunted and scathed with no Opposition…
Why this mayhem?
Why?
Who will save my hermitage?

Love, life
I am and always will be in love with life herself
Right under the sun and moon I make love to her                                                              ­                             Looking at the Milky Way in the eyes of brothers and sister                                                           ­                                 who go by and by all around the cardinal point                                                            ­                               with head and hands up and down left and right            
                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                 just to pay homage to the god mouth                                                            ­                                                            and gods of the stomach
Monuments like this gnashing and showcasing of teeth                                                            ­                                                                 ­                        sabotages the stage due to the help of pain and joy                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                                       happiness and sadness entertaining no one but themselves                                                       ­                              being innovative some of my kind laugh                                                            ­                                                  when pain comes on stage                                                            ­                                                                 ­           and some cry when joy step to stage
But all of these can only make it to the finish line                                                             ­                                 when love shows her dancing skills                                                           ­                                                               wi­th life being her tango partner in his own skills
When love take her first dance step                                                             ­                                                                 ­  the small rise and when she take the other                                                            ­                                                        the mighty fall and small smaller and mighty mightier;                                                        ­                            how aesthetical, you know not the turn she takes next                                                             ­                                                                 ­                 up down in respect to gravity                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­      When love take her first dance step

The tears keep rolling
down as mind
sabotages my joy.
I drown into the
pools of inky fear
to save what is
left of my mind.

A beautiful mind locked in doorless corridors
where repetition stabilises and calms.

A determined path of adventure into unknown waters,
then drowning when reality chokes optimism.

A blameless existence, where selective thoughts control,
and anxiety sabotages and destroys all things beautiful.

Joys pale into distant dreams . . . to the outside world normality prevails,
behind the curtain, a nervous tension builds and grips the spirit ******* out its life.

Sleep is usurped and any pleasure of tranquility is alluded.
An exhausted mind and body writhing in pain and falling into a bottomless pit.

No one can help,  No loving can change the hopelessness,
A behaviour that is repeated over and over in a cycle of torment.

Tranquillisers relieve the symptoms, but the episodes continue,
The ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the suffering is hard to observe.

She stopped dreading
She stopped raving
She stopped melting
She became mother of the mother
The dragon lady so mighty, so strong
the blaze couldn’t burn her
She fought fierce
A sharp arrow from distant
That strikes her
She conquered the pain
But the dragon lives as well
Dragon breathes as well
Lighting bolt that slays dragon as well
And she has that only fear
The dragon lady
Is being put in flames
She’s terrified, she wanders
Sabotages her with an excruciating pain
She can’t breathe fire or an ice
She can’t spread her wings and tail
“Dragons can’t be tamed” they say
She cannot tame her tenderness
She’s still valiant and tenacious
The dragon lady roars out her tale.

In Fair Motion


It feels good to know things all go according to plan.

But what if something falls out of place?
What if you had to start staring into space
And retrace all you did to make ends meet?
Because good ends meet the beginnings of horrors
And the horror of an out of place thing....

Is a burden,
I'm almost certain
I didn't mean to entertain your honesty with lies,
Honestly,
I was just trying to find a lie and
Got surprised by
The fire in your iris
You like this,
And my blood boils to know you got me in your blueprints

We just gotta keep this plan in fair motion,
Improvise.

I was gonna maybe leave you alone,
And then I realized
I couldn't leave you alone
So I went to the doctor,
I felt a pain in my bones
He laughed and handed me a bill that said,
"Man, you got love Jones"
That'll be $3,328.50

Love is cheap but,
I ain't have it,

So I skated out romanticizing
About my plan to make you fall in love with my prioritizing you.
I'm always gon be prioritizing you,
And showing you that I am someone new.
But what if that don't work out?
And it happens opposite and sabotages everything?
Could I just say anything to comfort you?
Or will life let another man come for you?

Just keep it in fair motion.
Improvise,

And I could promise,
A huckster can barely make it marketing,
I bend the bow like you've been the one I was​ targeting,
I know my inconsistency is startling,
But you organize my part up in your showtime,
A lot of directors don't know their actresses,
So I just show mine.
She keeps me open,
Devotion wasn't in my intention,
And loving you wasn't optional
I thought it would leave me
Broken,
But I learned to improvise
And kept this plan set in motion.

she sits
in her comfy chair
looking back
at the year
and sighs
what holds me back
to do the things
I yearn to do
what paralyses me
when I decide to change
well worn habits
what sabotages
all my plans
carefully designed
to improve my life
she takes a deep breath
hoping to find the answer
to all her questions

I have to walk along with this wound
turning to scar sometimes, at last
I didn't choose it, but it seems to be it
I am not my illness; but it walks along me

And I have to come to terms with it every morning
It sabotages me and makes me strong.
I can't kick it. It is like a smothering rope, around my chest.
I am not my illness; but we are united bitterly

Lover or nurse - don't make me choose!
My illness came to make the most of me
It was something I had to touch with my hand
She's a topic to explain,
She's something I can't explain quite well
Yet she is there
I am not my illness; I will get free
Drown my hands in this rabbit hole
till I reach MY SOUL

Baby is lifeless baby is used out of her control. baby’s mind is drenched in spirits, baby’s whole soul is intoxicated out of her power. Baby can’t feel a thing.
Baby likes attention, baby likes eyeliner to morph into her god.
Baby likes to party; so baby can conceal weaknesses that she can’t attend to. Baby has lost what’s inside. Because baby is tiered, and baby hasn’t anyone by her side to tame her. baby likes to see how far she can pull away from care until she is lost. Until she is crumbled by the side of the road thrown out by the cab under city lights which shelter baby’s innocence. Innocence she longs to annihilate to prove her strength, independence perhaps.
Baby can’t feel; baby has her tears inhaled by spirits before she can let them treacle down her skin. Damaged tissue, layers of fatigue from stranger’s touch. Baby thinks she is a toy baby lets herself to be played with because she plays with those toys in reverse. She mirrors those she fears and hates the morning after.
But baby is grown. And, baby can live to forget and baby erases the regrets in her ego and her laughter. Baby thinks its okay and baby says it’s fun, but this baby is lacking nurture, milk. Gilded milk of age. Baby grew up lost, baby grew up a clown. These nights, these repetitive nights are countless revenge upon that foetus she hates. Foetus was a clown foetus had no power foetus was a peasant to beauty. Baby is a slave to beauty now, baby loses time for beauty. baby just needs validation.
Evil begins to spawn within her in the disguise of self-defence, as baby grew, she wanted to hurt, her ability to hurt was her weapon of retaliation to all those who rejected her. They become her victims in a new life, played by people in the night. Those she attacks, she pains by absence, ignorance. Baby simply wants to reverse roles baby just wants the power. Baby likes to think she needs no other soul in this world, her ego convinces her that alone is a soul mate itself and that peace can only be found within. Maybe love awaits her in another life. So baby inflicts pain instead.
Being alone, baby self-sabotages in an act where she is most social, as her liver suffers from poisons and she smiles through her teeth knowing her head might shatter within in any moment. Baby pretends its fun and baby soughts to find fun in a new body to conclude her self sabotage. When they touch her in the wrong places during the acts of the night baby hurts inside. but baby pretends for a moment that this lust is love as she abides to her plan. Her plan is a success when she questions herself in regrets the next morning. Regret is forbidden so baby laughs instead. I call it a romanticization of a lack of self worth.  Actually no I’m just intoxicated.
Mother observes from above and mother scolds’ baby, lectures her to swear to never put herself through it again because her baby is so golden. But baby always flees from her mother and baby hides it all from her mother. Mother knows best but baby can’t understand. Because how many times did mother say that this cycle won’t erase loneliness that this wont compare to the love her baby deserves. And how many times did mother give baby false expectations because baby still goes to sleep in a cold bed every night.
Baby stops for a moment as she writes to search for the full moon. It disappears. Was baby dreaming did baby just want a full moon to liger upon her for dramatization?

                                                                                 -
It hurts her to say but baby is gnawing inside to find a cure for the lack she feels. Although ego holds strong above the water, seeking to drown people to reach land, but under ego she bleeds she lost her compass under waters. Love and lust pull her feet under water, creatures of desire bite and ceases her float. Baby drowns in this ocean of lusting.

                                                                      -
Baby is me in the night, baby is my alcoholism and baby is my ego my weakness my ongoing search for validation or love. Mother is my soul mother knows this is a vicious cycle but baby escapes home and escapes from mother.