Work routine

Back on the saddle...the 9 to 5.
Coffee mugs sparkling
reflecting
squinted eyes.

Staring at the clock
biding my time
get it done...
and challenging
i think not.

rambling.

during late night
he rambles
in mid sleep.
talks of video games and islands
where we are always running from something.
the only time we are ever
in sync.

i'm an idiot for thinking
this is love.

Afternoon Time

tick tock tick tock
stare
gazing
hoping
yearning
for
5 o'clock

to be released from the "American dream" of what LIFE
Should be?

Music pouring
waterfall
rain

quickly how a river becomes
a stain
marked across the page.

what feeds the Whirlpool
of my primordial core

is it sleeping monstro's snore
hiding in the depth
of my ocean floor?

What anxious grief!
How he ponders to understand,
swallow all of me....

and i will build a fire
to watch him sneeze.

Remember me.

and you try to ignore a face you've seen
before.
in another life
trying to forget
remember when.

slammed doors & a
late night arousal
the animal yearning
to satiate and be
sedated.

the dawn peering through the nearby windows
revealing a street
not yet
warmed by the sun.

acknowledging it
not accepting it
Jekyll into Hyde.
"you disgust me."
is his late night lullaby
in which comfort finds no sight.

I used
to let myself cry
and pray that I
could fix it
and love would let
destruction stray.

no longer will tears be released.
no longer will I allow the words to seep
into me
Le parole mi fanno male.

by morning time
all will be erased
and I will be convinced
it was all a dream.
so close it may had seemed
real to me.

then
he'll turn over
and that smile will
radiate
revealing the dawn.

in the glimmer of those eyes
once filled with anger
veritably
will kiss me
not remembering in evening past
what crime took place.

September

I remember September...

last year, his arms would squeeze.

an addict to his josephine.

and I yearned for that kind of love...
without allowing myself to become
vulnerable.

Ever so close, i conceal...now all that i feel.

I can sense his fear,
my sadness.
It's not all that i am...
nor does it define me...

but when it is your heart that i feel
then i cannot deny it.

you are he
whose finger stroked the chords of my soul...
unravelled the barbed wire
unleashed the choke hold
and allowed me breathe
again.

and wonder now why it is
she
who sleeps in closets
when moon is full.

wonder why her eyes turn grim
when senses bring memories.

I wish to love and give all that i am.
be honest to my man
but capable misunderstandings
make it difficult
to comprehend.

Sometimes the filth
lures my innocent hand
i roll around in it
to feel again
to see if life
is underneath.
this rotting disgust i feel
it's not really me
and drowning
alone.
in deep.

he's running
and i let him.

my love for thee
will release the trap
from she he flees
and
our memory is
kept.

Arts

Upon my discovery toward inner freedom...aka removal of the chains placed around my heart...wait is that a band name?
anyways...upon the road towards spiritual enlightenment...
wait that's not right either.

Let's start over.

I
am
working
on
the self.

A challenging conquest...
inner space.
All that holds us back.
OUR FEARS
OUR DREAMS
all defined by most men as the soul.
Cognitive behavioral patterns.

I met with a lovely lady yesterday.
Sat and listened to a fraction of the waterfall of my weaknesses.
TOO PROUD
for all these years to confront them.
And there they laid on the table.
Seeing every mistake
she did not like the others...
did not throw it in my face nor
did she judge them.

Multiple repeated actions
many men...?
Many fingers upon paleness.
Many mistakes justified.
How many I let walk all over my beauty.
How many did I let control my way of thinking.
How afraid I was of my SELF.

With all dead.
Including the girl that used to hold my name...
I chose life.
As daddy would say "love and laughter."

I wish to love.
I do not fear it.