Hello snorer, I hope you didn't sleep any poorer
when I stayed up all night typing this not-poem
I meant you no harm, but I had to stay up
Because I couldn't make music out of your obnoxiously loud cacophony of windpipe crap, er "music".  Time to not-pretend to absolutely hate your snoring under the guise of being perfectly okay with it for the sake of setting the tone a bit nicer to all who must hear it, so they can BEAR to, for otherwise it would be absurd.  Not as absurd as anyone hating to have aural drills applied to all their chakras all night, but still absurd enough to get a chuckle out of me (I hope it didn't wake your fine specimen here). It was never my intent, though it was always my ethical concern (if only everyone could be as reciprocal as you and I).   Oh, my not-pretend hatred is very thinly veiled.  I wasn't totally defeated by your snore-sound armies so that I couldn't type words, but I may have lost some of my desired effect due to the sometimes wincing distraction they caused to my piece of mind at this or that time when I needed it the most (even though I was awake, which is no crime if snoring at night and keeping me that way isn't).

Well, I did ask you if you'd mind if I typed,
I did tell you that you could tell me if its quiet purr of clicks would bother your precious sleep
But I never felt a need to be concerned, because whenever I
was typing, I heard you snore, and whenever I was in the heights of
some new discovery or epiphany, your sharp sudden thunderstroke of near death
corrugated metal vibrating in the torrent of some sudden gale force gust of wind.

These were signs to me of your restful sleep.  So I simply didn't worry about your sleep.  I was certain that my electronic beeps were every now and then music to your ears, just as they were to mine.  This is because in the midst of these I heard you snore, and when you snored, I took you to be asleep.

Ah but then again, then again, these are fanciful constructions which simply say that what is wonderful for me should be just fine and dandy with you, at a bare minimum, and on those grounds of very unsymmetrical attitude about right and wrong I would have to begin my music tirade of words as well.  But I don't view justice and propriety along such selfish lines as these.

What I see is that duplicity is your thesis.  I have anecdotal accounts which are marvelous to behold first hand, but the details of the absurdities cannot be done justice in the language of men, for the intensity of such insanity can only be borne lightly by the frailest frayed ends of my sanity for having lived through your acoustically maddening inanity.

You didn't ever admit to me that my noises were not music to YOUR ears.  Indeed  you claimed never to be bothered by them because you never voiced up against them.  I suppose you might as well voice up against them in the street as well if it turns out not all of you snorers-go-a-viking types like to hear my mouse clicking away like a tapping noises on a metal plate in your skull.  Sorry if it is another non-snorer-who-must-stay-up-late-and-so-be-occupied person whose nocturnal joys were misinterpreted as direct assaults on the dignity, spirit, or just basic mental viability of your wounded snoremonster troop of anti-late-stayer-uppers, because in fact, we used to be sleep-at-night-entities like you, but that was before you showed up, thoracic marching band in tow.  Marching bands are musical also, to some people.  And for some all hours of the night are perfect for a marching band.  Who am I to tell them otherwise.  

Well let me know the next time a marching band is given special permit to come through your neighborhood at night, and I'll be glad to point out to you the first Snorer'sville, because only they should be expected, in all justice to live with the macroscopic manifestation of their personal narcissistic paradises.

Let you all go to your own place and form your own nation, and see if you can consistently demand everyone else find music in your ****** and accursed racket!  But until then I expect some of you will have to take the damage returned by the growing number of people who are very much tired of living under the horrors of your infliction upon us, your demonic and evil tyranny of mind-crushing hate that is your ****** noise.  We will do yoga and breathe, and stretch, and some light calesthenics to relax and seek some focus and composure, whenever our spirits require, and this will be unchallenged by you so long as you are asleep, and it will be unchallenged by you so long as you are awake too.  For in the latter case you are already awake (and so still are we, usually) while in the former case it is far quieter than your snoring, both in its valleys and peaks.  And moreover it has not kept you up, but in fact I have noted that you wake yourself up with your own music when it reaches a certain crescendo.  

Unless you want to say that those crescendos are some sort of involuntary complaint about MY crescendos of spirit, when I start typing about 20% faster than normal, with perfect focus and accuracy while reaching an aesthetic pleasure approaching ****** as I realize that it is almost unerringly in the midst of such an experience that I hear your crescendo resound. And since it was no more intended to be a distraction for me, then surely my music must have also gone undetected by your ears, as well as your spirit. Or is it fairer to say it was the very cause of your crescendo, or at least its inspiration?

Therefore I needn't worry that it is I that is keeping you up, even if for only brief stints at a time, especially by comparison to my all-night vigils.  Not so, but it is you who are so enraptured by my occasional laughs or giggles as I edify my weary, sleep-deprived mind on some bit of morale boosting entertainment.  With headphones on of course.  It's also courteously plugged into the computer to prevent my favorite bit of Judas Priest from hurting your ear drums, or else overstimulating your music appreciation centers, which are verily attached to your ear-drums by a nerve bundle (and what nerve you all have there).  This means I've spared you too much distraction from any already-abundant music of the spheres effect you may be savoring which might have emanated from my bumbling around in the dark (to keep the lights out of course, after all people are sleeping).

Yes but that is a minority of you perhaps, who would lie about that and in fact who ought to say that our nocturnal emissions are not what you'd call restfully mind-relaxing crickets in the dead of night with an occasional hoot in the distance...  But they are a minority, the rest of you are so definitely in good faith.

But then why do I always run into those of your tribe who have strange and unethical habits, such as destroying others' lives by ruining their one perhaps most preciously personal and inalienable need second only to air and water, and that is sleep.  It is, in terms of acute necessity, in many ways more needed than food, though in the long term food catches up.  But food catches up only because not eating food is a  lot like not getting sleep, but just a lot more intense on the body when it drops to some critical point because we know from experience it is on raw nerves that we can go for a while in search of food, but if the food can't be found (perhaps because of our lack of sleep ruining our cognition in some way), then we will not eat, nor sleep, because we'll be dead.  

But either way, we'll be dead, for lack of sleep kills, both directly and indirectly, if suffered over a short time and/or in a diluted form over a long time.  That would be poetically commensurate to the sadistic similitude of the types of snoring sounds with the types of ways to die from being deprived of sleep according to two modes (acute and chronic), over many keys of incident, accident, lost opportunity and ill-stared fate, all of which can be mapped in some way back to that auditory persecution of our very souls of which your kind are in some swelling numbers quite proud.  Just think of all the car accidents, work accidents, altercations, fits of rage, inability to concentrate well or sometimes at all, and other life-damaging conditions of the mind, and also of the body, which accrue from lack of proper and healthy sleep at night!

Good thing for most of you though, right?  Because surely our music is also sweet, and I really hope I've inspired many to face this need for equality, and be on their guard against any unjust whining or groaning from those who seem in point of fact to value their sleep just a good deal more than they value anyone else's.  Not only because they really really love to get those zzz's but because they think that in the natural order of things, before people suddenly went mad and evil, people went to bed and slept well even partly BECAUSE of this brachio-esophageal orchestral lullaby.

But we'll be on our guard against those complaints, because we know you have plotted to take to the streets against us to defend your noisiness-all-night-every-night rights.  So we'll be on guard to defend ours, TO THE LAST FIBER OF OUR BEING.

Because you insufferable ******* are cruel, and cruelty no one should abide.  No one in my world, in my society of people, will be allowed to inflict cruelty on another person, nor be callously prejudicial in their own favor when injuries do occur because of their actions merely on the grounds that the damage it causes coincides with the fulfillment of a need on their own part, even while that fulfillment is of a need which is obstructed from satisfaction in the other part, and by THAT VERY SAME REASON, so that your sleep depends on keeping others awake.  UNLESS you can somehow con or coerce them into developing some form of Stockholm Syndrome and confuse the torment you inflict upon them with a sign of your love and wonderfulness to be around.

Yes, I know you hear me typing now, through your well-behaved proxy.  I feel it. If not he per se, then in a parallel universe not too far off, there's a version of him who does.  Perhaps not the one I know now, on day one of having moved into this room, but perhaps one represented in this universe by someone who has found himself in some sort of circumstances found later on during his stay, this mixed with the fact that familiarity breeds contempt... He'll start making some righteous demands of some kind, and I might not be in a such a good mood about that due to lack of proper sleep, and this will coincide with said contumacy against my own rights (such as to breathe, type, surf the net, or do other nocturnal things other than snoring which might keep others up).

As to that last point in parentheses, snoring is an activity which you perform in conjunction with your getting sleep, and it therefore means not well for your notion of fairness to say things as they are, and simply say the truth, which is that your getting sleep deprives others of theirs, but it can be logically deduced.

It can also be logically deduced that the don't give flying **** if you don't like the fact that we don't like your ear-**** night after night, which is a good name as any, but should perhaps at times be amended to body-demolishing soul-****** of a mortally sinful nature, and with an ethical incongruity to good character of a person to maintain it, all the more to sings its praises to us and call it "good poetry".

Behind the building,
a one hundred percent green certified building
an amazing feat of engineering-science-forward thinking
fabulously energy efficient cutting edge building
sit solar panels in the sweltering heat,
extra heat from the toxic clouds in the sky
which now envelop the Earth

There, under the panels sit a small band of sheep, who represent the
last little bit of progressive wonderfulness
visionary design and research based and proven
and the future because they eat the grass
and there is no need to use toxic fume producing
loud unnatural unsustainable lawn mower

But the grass is long dead.
It is just white and yellow and there are lambs
baby sheep who sit and pant underneath the
sustainable solar panels without a decent meal
in sight. Only stalks and yellow deadness

I suggest vitamins or supplements
after all there is no grass, only grass out
that is watered sustainably and is carefully fenced off
from the living sheep underneath the dead panels
behind the dead building.

Outrage from the forward thinking cutting edge
Wi-Fi custodians of the cement and metal building and panels,
panels that emit a high pitched hum
from a hot metal box and regulate the CO2 in each room automatically
The sheep are there to eat the grass
if you feed them, even to make them healthier
so that they may get up out of their hot suffering
and eat some stalks in addition to a little bit of supplemental feed
they will not eat the dead grass, and they are there to eat the grass
they are not there to be comfortable or healthy they are just sheep
But sheep are only living non human feeling beings
and not part of the forward thinking cutting edge metal and cement
technology that is worth a lot of money and was written up
in the paper and got the custodians attention and recognition.
And they are just suffering, hot, miserable animals
and despite all of our technology, Mars landing
solar panels to electricity advance thinking technological wonders
our compassion and empathy remain tight and selfish
and the dead things, not the living ones, are what we value

I don't know quite what to say
But I'll start with the basics.

I love you
And I want to be forever yours

I love thinking about us
Our future

I love imagining the smile on the face
Of our future child

I miss you at night
When I'm all alone in bed

And I dream of a day
Where I can kiss you good-night

When I first lost you
I wanted the ability to fly

So I could scour the Earth for you
But now I don't wanna fly

But sometimes I want telepathy
So I can read your mind

And well I love you
And I love what you think

Especially when you look at me
With that shimmer in your eye.

And darling
I love you

For everything that you are
Everything that your not
And all the wonderfulness you make me feel.

Forth from the dust and din,
The crush, the heat, the many-spotted glare,
The odour and sense of life and lust aflare,
The wrangle and jangle of unrests,
Let us take horse, Dear Heart, take horse and win--
As from swart August to the green lap of May--
To quietness and the fresh and fragrant *******
Of the still, delicious night, not yet aware
In any of her innumerable nests
Of that first sudden plash of dawn,
Clear, sapphirine, luminous, large,
Which tells that soon the flowing springs of day
In deep and ever deeper eddies drawn
Forward and up, in wider and wider way,
Shall float the sands, and brim the shores,
On this our lith of the World, as round it roars
And spins into the outlook of the Sun
(The Lord's first gift, the Lord's especial charge),
With light, with living light, from marge to marge
Until the course He set and staked be run.

Through street and square, through square and street,
Each with his home-grown quality of dark
And violated silence, loud and fleet,
Waylaid by a merry ghost at every lamp,
The hansom wheels and plunges.  Hark, O, hark,
Sweet, how the old mare's bit and chain
Ring back a rough refrain
Upon the marked and cheerful *****
Of her four shoes!  Here is the Park,
And O, the languid midsummer wafts adust,
The tired midsummer blooms!
O, the mysterious distances, the glooms
Romantic, the august
And solemn shapes!  At night this City of Trees
Turns to a tryst of vague and strange
And monstrous Majesties,
Let loose from some dim underworld to range
These terrene vistas till their twilight sets:
When, dispossessed of wonderfulness, they stand
Beggared and common, plain to all the land
For stooks of leaves!  And lo! the Wizard Hour,
His silent, shining sorcery winged with power!
Still, still the streets, between their carcanets
Of linking gold, are avenues of sleep.
But see how gable ends and parapets
In gradual beauty and significance
Emerge!  And did you hear
That little twitter-and-cheep,
Breaking inordinately loud and clear
On this still, spectral, exquisite atmosphere?
'Tis a first nest at matins!  And behold
A rakehell cat--how furtive and acold!
A spent witch homing from some infamous dance--
Obscene, quick-trotting, see her tip and fade
Through shadowy railings into a pit of shade!
And now! a little wind and shy,
The smell of ships (that earnest of romance),
A sense of space and water, and thereby
A lamplit bridge ouching the troubled sky,
And look, O, look! a tangle of silver gleams
And dusky lights, our River and all his dreams,
His dreams that never save in our deaths can die.

What miracle is happening in the air,
Charging the very texture of the gray
With something luminous and rare?
The night goes out like an ill-parcelled fire,
And, as one lights a candle, it is day.
The extinguisher, that perks it like a spire
On the little formal church, is not yet green
Across the water:  but the house-tops nigher,
The corner-lines, the chimneys--look how clean,
How new, how naked!  See the batch of boats,
Here at the stairs, washed in the fresh-sprung beam!
And those are barges that were goblin floats,
Black, hag-steered, fraught with devilry and dream!
And in the piles the water frolics clear,
The ripples into loose rings wander and flee,
And we--we can behold that could but hear
The ancient River singing as he goes,
New-mailed in morning, to the ancient Sea.
The gas burns lank and jaded in its glass:
The old Ruffian soon shall yawn himself awake,
And light his pipe, and shoulder his tools, and take
His hobnailed way to work!

Let us too pass--
Pass ere the sun leaps and your shadow shows--
Through these long, blindfold rows
Of casements staring blind to right and left,
Each with his gaze turned inward on some piece
Of life in death's own likeness--Life bereft
Of living looks as by the Great Release--
Pass to an exquisite night's more exquisite close!

Reach upon reach of burial--so they feel,
These colonies of dreams!  And as we steal
Homeward together, but for the buxom breeze,
Fitfully frolicking to heel
With news of dawn-drenched woods and tumbling seas,
We might--thus awed, thus lonely that we are--
Be wandering some dispeopled star,
Some world of memories and unbroken graves,
So broods the abounding Silence near and far:
Till even your footfall craves
Forgiveness of the majesty it braves.

slight smile
knowing, yet intrigued
by the wonderfulness of life
that seems dreamlike to be real;
by the inkling of a poem
that’s like a baby refusing to leave its womb;
by the sparks that fly
at the thought of your lover.
just a slight smile
knowing, yet intrigued,
when billions of volts of electricity
transport the smiler
to a world that
exists
but not really.

Old story man goes to work woman stays at home sounds like a downer for the woman it can’t be
Further from the truth and women are as great in the work place but man can’t or at least be as
Successful in the home he is an initiator she fulfills only woman can tilt her head and smile its radiant a
Guy would look goofy he is the essential steel but for feel the greatest need of human kind the woman
Delivers her voice is power it addresses in the most cogent she is natural man will have to work hard and
Then still possibly blow his top the woman knows the courses that are obvious and all so the subtle
Those that disarm gain with a style that everyone appreciates a taste a flair that is winsome you free fall
Into luxuriant grace that lifts you both to a place of nobility it’s all natural she possess riches that are
Uncommon but they pass without notice because she presents simple promise uncomplicated available
An open what is there to resist you’re in her natural element no wonder they have been called blessed
They use the blessed to maneuver their the most gifted creature for the fact of completing man that
Enriches herself to build others where they fall short what greatness dwells there in simple acts she can
Be breath taking just by kicking off her shoes putting on a man’s shirt how stunning again you see the
Flow she is given power of exactness don’t believe let a woman walk by se what I mean they carry
Unspoken magic that can’t be duplicated you can only say thank you Heavenly Father where would
I be and how incomplete I would be without her in my life well that’s my ode to the wonderfulness
Of womanhood so many abuse cheapen and disallow the greatest gift man was ever given

Woman Completes


Old story man goes to work woman stays at home sounds like a downer for the woman it can’t be
Further from the truth and women are as great in the work place but man can’t or at least be as
Successful in the home he is an initiator she fulfills only woman can tilt her head and smile its radiant a
Guy would look goofy he is the essential steel but for feel the greatest need of human kind the woman
Delivers her voice is power it addresses in the most cogent she is natural man will have to work hard and
Then still possibly blow his top the woman knows the courses that are obvious and all so the subtle
Those that disarm gain with a style that everyone appreciates a taste a flair that is winsome you free fall
Into luxuriant grace that lifts you both to a place of nobility it’s all natural she possess riches that are
Uncommon but they pass without notice because she presents simple promise uncomplicated available
An open what is there to resist you’re in her natural element no wonder they have been called blessed
They use the blessed to maneuver their the most gifted creature for the fact of completing man that
Enriches herself to build others where they fall short what greatness dwells there in simple acts she can
Be breath taking just by kicking off her shoes putting on a man’s shirt how stunning again you see the
Flow she is given power of exactness don’t believe let a woman walk by se what I mean they carry
Unspoken magic that can’t be duplicated you can only say thank you Heavenly Father where would
I be and how incomplete I would be without her in my life well that’s my ode to the wonderfulness
Of womanhood so many abuse cheapen and disallow the greatest gift man was ever given

my love
i miss you
so much
i can not express it in words
i miss our giggles
and coffee dates
and nonlebian/lesbian hand holding
our loudness
our singing a
and awesome dancing
i miss taking pictures
and smiling
our moments of stupidity
i miss all of your wonderfulness
with love

Wait.
And wait.
And wait a month and then another month...
His Royal Importance will deign to see you now
...for a brief moment or two
....And you will politely listen to him go on and on about himself
     feigning interest
     'til you are dismissed
      grateful for the audience before His Wonderfulness.

His Imperial Pretentiousness is available to put you in your place...
to make you feel small
and unnecessary
and superfluous
and taken for granted.

Make your humblest obeisance before him when entering his August Presence.    
Kiss his ring as if it were his busy  behind,
wondering all the while why you remain so stupidly devoted.

midnight diamonds, winds in the south, sun traveled southbound,
    you see, you lingered in some subtle guises when you’re mine, yet you’re gone.

   the stars stud my heavens, hot and flickering, the wind embraces me - these spark some painful thoughts i never told anybody. these remind me that somewhere out there i too reappear in your mind for a while, and this is when i beg the most:

for you never to forget my gentle feelings, and my timid cold fingers.
    i know at best i could be only your afterthought, my dear, and i am learning to live with this, i am learning to live with this fact that you’re letting me slip away.

         you’re with me ‘till this ends, ‘till i have transcended the agony of naive wonderfulness. and i can live with your ghost, these ruins of relics. you’re with me, my sweetheart, ‘till i’m mended and be brave enough to open up to a new soul.

I ponder amongst the wonderfulness of your mind as I try to focus deep into your eyes, I hope I'm surprised by the thought of you thinking about myself, stop squinting please? Let me see the gleam, a little wider so that I can see the dream. As I look down year 2-3 from now. I see you and me, wait don't even blink, without interruptions there's nothing that can destruct us. As you lay down with me pressed on top of you, joyous tears fall to your ears. I see my assuring reflection, smile for awhile, while I swipe at the two tracks of wetness. You tell me that you adore my cleverness, I tell you that when I gaze through your frames I see the foreverness

Even if it's lost,
Hold on,
A little longer,
It's just a passing tide.

Even if it's empty,
Hold on,
To the thoughts and hopes
Of wonderfulness,
Tomorrow could bring.

You are my dream man
And even when we
Were young I knew
My heart would
Whisper each night
He's the one
He is your true love
And I smiled at the thought
For you were and are my best friend
And now to be yours I see how right
My heart always was
Because you make life worth while
You make every bad moment
Every tear
Every cut
Every sad thought
Worth while
I awaken each day
With a smiling face
Knowing I'm yours
Looking into those eyes
And seeing your love
It completes me
I love you
For you are my soul mate
You are my best friend
You are my lover
My fiancée
My one true love
And one day
You will be my husband
And I'll sleep peacefully each night
Knowing I am forever yours
Knowing I'm your wife
And that our struggle
Has all been so
Worth all the wonderfulness that has yet to come
But that I know deep in my heart will.

A couple of years ago I learned the worse thing someone could do
Every single person wants to be better than the other
As we envy the greater ones
And get angry at the ones who attempt to be better
But never work at it
So we compare ourselves to each other
Never growing to our own full potiental
We could be so much more
And you, you could shake the world with your wonderfulness
if you only stopped comparing yourself to someone else

Seeing you
Feeling any
Inch of your presence
Has always moved me
So here I am
Feeling you around me
Our history
Floating memories
That never dissipate
And I cry
As I always do
When I feel you this close
I cry and I smile
For all the wonderfulness
You gave me
Thank you
For every moment.

I feel odd.
No, odd couldn't possibly describe
how I feel at this moment. Its frustration
mixed with gleefulness. Tears paired with a smile.
My muted lips listening to my screaming mind.
I feel a joyous-sadness, like I could dance at wakes
or mourn for a birth. Beating hearts seem to have stopped
as I shriek for undying love. The stars glow a colourful darkness
and the planets rotate in a square. I ascend from
hell's cotton-candy clouds and climb from the depths of heaven.
To love is to sin and to hate is what they praise.
My trees uproot themselves to find a place to drown.
The weeds are what I desire and flowers are a disgrace.
You, my dear, have caused earthquakes to
shake my sturdy world
and nothing is as I thought it was.

{if only you could feel this unease too.
but alas, this cannot be.
even if the brazen skies overhead became a maddening red
with the ocean of darkness made from our galaxy's shadow
spilling between newly found holes in our atmosphere;

even if the laws of gravity made us fall from above
and down towards the dark soil of this earth
whose seeds are planted with the intent of dishonesty
plaguing the lives of all those who dance on the ground;

even if our bodies ceased to exist from this reality,
so that you could no longer see my nervous glances and flushed cheeks,
and the thoughts of each other were the only ideas that drifted
between the turning planets and flickering stars;

you will never love me.

i know that there is no love that you can give to me.
that there is no unease when you think of me.
kisses from my desperate lips will never smother yours
nor shall our fingers adore how they entwined perfectly
between the spaces of our rough hands.

yes, you bring a certain kind of wonderfulness to my life,
one that allows me to carry a radiant smile
but you have brought a certain kind of pain too,
one that is the cause of clenched hearts and
glassy eyed teens trying to keep the darkness from their minds.}

I wonder, {i wonder,}
is this what first love feels like?
{is this what an unrequited love feels like?}

I hope {i truly hope that one day}
you feel this love too. {you'll feel this pain too.}

i thought i wanted you
the romance and love
and i do
but we had it
it was lovely for a week
and then the world came apart bit by bit
you were never able to give
not completely
now we’re friends and i thought I wouldn’t be able to deal
i thought my heart would feel never feel whole again
but i think of you
and i still smile
i think of you and your wonderfulness and
im so full of love
maybe you’ll never be with me again
and maybe
thats ok
because at least you’ll be in my life at all
and that’s enough

you are always enough

It is that something extra that preserves the
Ordinary-that loses nothing of the common
Place but adds adds to it the magic that is
Inherent in it.  That it is wonderful, that it
Is the most great wonderfulness there is
Because it is a greatness that gives itself
Not to a small select few but to every
Experience that we have.  It is an over-
Flowing fountain spilling glory on all in
The recognition of God in all and all in
God.  Such was the coming of the Holy
Spirit to the disciples-The Gift of knowing
The all encompassing Truth that filled
Them with such glory it seemed that they
Were possessed by a drunken madness.

I looked in the mirror and what did I see, yet a little old woman peering back at me. With packs and sage and wrinkles and wispy white hair and I asked my appearance, how could you arrive?

You used to be straight and incredible and now you're stooped and feeble - when I made a decent attempt to shield you from turning into a collectible.

My appearance's eyes twinkled and she gravely answered, 'You're taking a gander at the blessing wrap and not the gem inside'- - a living pearl and valuable of un-envisioned worth, one of a kind and genuine the genuine you, the main you on earth.

The years that ruin your blessing wrap with different things more savage ought to filter and fortify and clean up that gem.

So concentrate your consideration within, not the out- - on being kinder, smarter, more substance and more dedicated.

At that point, when your blessing wrap is stripped away, your gem will be without set - to transmit God's wonderfulness, all through endlessness.

to you,

i know you are sick and i know you are dying.

i know it is scary but i do not want you to be scared.

i know this through my psychiatrist, who told me a couple of weeks ago, i do not know the date but i know it was a tuesday.

in telling me, the words felt like splinters, slowly piercing their way into the walls of my heart.

that tuesday was not just a day of the week. it felt like no one is living it but me, and, that somehow the day was mine and no longer belonged to anyone else. it wasn't a day of the week. it was a day that belonged to me.

my heart was throbbing as the splinters sank deeper, some more painful than others. i allowed myself to feel like that. i let myself hurt and be sad and feel, because you taught me that feelings are a beautiful thing and must be felt and must be acknowledged.

you helped me to learn their importance. you showed me how to take my anxiety and panic and turn it into an emotion that just needed to be noticed and felt, and to acknowledge its presence, and to treat that presence calmly and peacefully. to tell the panic and anxiety it was okay.

when they were okay, i was okay.

that tuesday i did the same thing to my pain. but i realised this was not the way i wanted to grieve you.

you are not my anxiety nor my panic. i could not tend toward the habit i have for processing negativity. i could not affiliate your positivity and wonderfulness with all the negative ******* that goes on inside my head, because you are love and solace. you are support and comfort.

i have since turned the splinters into seeds that will forever grow within and around my heart, with the piercings in its wall giving them the space to do so.

i did not know i could turn such pain into such beauty, but it seems as though i can. thank you for helping me to get here.

i know a considerable length of time has passed since i last saw and spoke to you, but i think you proud of me.

i want you to know that i am strong and i am proud of the person i am today. you have been a ray of hope in the sunlight that has allowed my garden to grow, much like the many lives of others you have touched.

i know that the purpose of therapy is not to find a solution or an answer to the problems we encounter, but to give the space in which we can learn and help come to the realisation that we, ourselves, want to find these solutions. it is where we learn to know we are enough. and not through others telling us we are, but us. we learn to know that.

it is not the therapists that make us better. they are more important than that because they help make us want to be better.

and that is what you give, and it is beautiful.

the seeds are planted in my heart, where you will bloom and blossom in the garden of my soul.

from the very depths of my heart,
i wish you all the strength and love you have given me.

from, me

I get tired of it's confusion,
tired of the pain.
I'm tired of the emptiness from hearts I've parted from.
Tired of wishing for more, but not knowing which way to turn...
And sometimes too scared to look back.
To let go completely of yesterday,
and grasp a hold on the hope of tomorrow.
A hope that if tomorrow gets here, it won't be like yesterday.

Yesterday's holding on to the hope of a lost love
Yesterday's disappointments of the same ol' routine
Yesterday's wishing bills didn't exist, so there wouldn't be any living from check to check.
Yesterday's empty dreams of a fairy tail ending,
Wanting an end to all my struggling.
Holding onto the hope of tomorrow....

A tomorrow filled with pure happiness, knowing that this direction  on the path is the one and only way...
Success.
A tomorrow filled with the reassurance that your headed for better days.
A tomorrow with a love that was sent to you from the heaven above, that will only grow deeper and deeper as time goes by to last forever.
A tomorrow that will complete and fulfill yesterdays wants and dreams.
A tomorrow that will conquer all my hardships and troubles.

I grasp the thought of what wonderfulness tomorrow could bring.

(How can you let go of yesterday?

You are so wonderful that I can't believe it. Your eyes are like huge ***** on a dinosaur glistening in the sun on a beach far away 3 days after Kwanzaa. Your nose reflects the glow of the moon like a garden tool manufacturer eating onions with his gay lover in Pittsburgh on the fourth of July. Your smile lights up the men's room as if your teeth and lips were made of large piles of cow manure evenly spread over the roof of a new Toyota Corolla.