That's What I Love

"That's what I love about fire, 

how it would kill me as quick as anybody else. 

How it can't know I'm its mother. 

It's so beautiful and powerful 

and beyond feeling anything for anybody, 

that's what I love about fire."

Story

You remember when we first met? Subsequent you wrote down that you found someone you could never lose, and would never want to forget. 
That I was safe and real, and everything that you wanted, and I bought it.

 "When you understand," Brandy says, "that what your telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan," Brandy says, "then we'll figure out who you're going to be."

Good

and when you turned away
this is what you chose to say
here's a box of all the good memories and you can keep it
and before i go, just know
if you tell someone enough they're too good for your they'll eventually believe it
i convinced myself it was a dream
it was the first time in my waking life everything had been exactly what it seemed
and that was not real to me
i see finally, at fault wasn't just my attitude
i chose not to listen when you repeated i'd never forgive you
you just never forgave me
that box you left me with well it just became me
and i know now you altered into the contrast
there were memories left out of mine, and you became that other half
i knew that, but just waited until the day that you'd find it in yourself to accept me
replaying the thoughts i believed to be in there, it was just dust you left me
when i opened that box, seeing crumbles of something i was certain i could mend
just bones that looked like those from the skeletons in my closet
they are other dead friends
though those weren't detrimental, i was merely just a kid
well now you're living a lie, and you're a fraud
i am adult, except if someone were to ask if i would will you to live

Vacation

"How is it without your partner..... 
in crime?




Is it like he's gone on vacation?"

I Have Got All These Things For You

""

By Petal Myself As Spring

"your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which I cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though I have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as spring opens

or if your wish be to close me, I and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing"

We're Headed Out

"Towards the Clearing."

Scarely Smitten

pseudo sleep symptom of my pseudo sadness
super sham to feel something superior
similar to sobriety
you should've seen
so severely sweet on saying
special somethings, so surprised but sure
it was sizably substantial when you swore to sustain
slowly slid into surface surroundings
slipped up in the slightest
now straining every second
for the splendor of a 2nd shot
stagnant on a strange slip-sliding slope
I suppose I'll spin around someway
in spirit of being sick of such strong strides
away from small smiles
smart on shying away
searching, survalliencing, scrutinizing
on your street, what did I seek?
swelling in salvation
sweetness starvation
semi-stable
stint
a state of standard stalemate without a start
stopped
still scarred, scared, and scattered from
lack of sanctions succeeding no strive to stay
no struggle, no strife
secondhand symbols and seducing sentiments 
sincerely whisper-spoken secrets
surrendering of security
suffering serious setup
some sorted sorry, shoddy story
sappy
just subtract each stupid saturday and sunday 
spent heart swollen swooning in supreme sublimity
sheepish star struck sucker
spiraling seaward
a somewhat spineless and spruced up 
subpar see-you-later
still shook up from the ship off
spread thin and stooped low 
to substitute socializing
seemingly
suspicious sunset and suspended sunrise
spontaneous or selective, skilled and strategic 
sting of a soon stranger
stillness sufficed
spoken solemn and sullen self seclusion
silently spacial society
swallowing shallowness
spent screaming shameless
sinking from all that was stolen
suddenly scrap all that you saved
swiftly sacrifice sanctuaries
sauntered then sallied to success in secular sainthood
scheming such spotty 
scrupulous strict stringent schedules
shooting for the sky
s e p a r a t e.

Have Ruined

try to get that I repeat to myself others have ruined me until no other thoughts are there


the way that you stared, can't slide my fingers in anyone else's hair


the words that you shared, trying to replace that void is more than I can bear


the way things go, to the common outcome I got uncommonly wise


space in my heart, shadow under my eyes


I'll feel fine once I rise
but

Chalked Up

And all my reactions and responses get chalked up to regrets. 
I never know how to act or what to say except 
I thought to tell you you seem to be a compilation of the best parts of everyone I've met. 
I'll still hate myself even when those around me bring me to the point of elation. 
But I'll still pull myself out when I get plunged deep, in humiliation. 
It is just a long road I'm facing. 
And you know it gets even darker at night, and I've always liked an end in sight. 
I'm just grateful for those friends amidst my plight. 
Especially when I come to realize my angst is foolishly trite. 
My love for those who keep stride is strong, when I'm only dragging my feet. 
I hope that I will surpass those who display their worst aspects 
in everyone I meet.

Love Poem

""

Sound

  "Laughter is the only sound left I can make that people will understand."

A Wider Variety

  Breadth of fresh air.            

Keep Company

             "It's a very upsetting thing indeed to keep company with people who do not understand what I'm saying. Or why. Or when I do not have the words to say them."

I Am Pretending To Sleep

I have myself too worked and figured out that it's really so off-putting, I can hardly watch myself react to things (the way I know I will). I promised myself this morning that my life will be filled, purposefully, with positivity and with a happy outlook. Night fall changes things I guess, I feel medium. This morning I wrote: It is not fake, petty, or on the surface just because it is happy and easy. It is not completely meaningless simply because you are talking about the present, versus the past. Your secrets do not define you. Your recovery is not a path, or a deep dark hole that you must now try to shamefully crawl out of. Maybe I just grew out of those thoughts. What I wrote at work was regarding the people who keep me company in my head. How my mind never wanders because it needs not to, it is where it wants to be. My head is with whom it wants to spend time with, my body quite the contrary, but whatever. I found a work receipt paper in the compartment in my car. I wrote yesterday about some vitality or something or other about deliberate words and listening to whispers. I am new today. This afternoon before work I planned on writing about how today was a good day because I got a second goodbye hug, in one goodbye. Later today I thought to write upon how I ruin all of my favorite things so well, because I think the second hug means that it got so uncomfortable subsequent to the first hug and how I make people linger, and stay on and on. How I make everything about something else, something bigger and something me. And I want to tell everyone how I care, invest, and give emotionally too much, and I'm either spilling my guts or slamming my door shut. I crave that deep, raw, emotional level and force it in situations, and how I want everyone to know, it comes natural, and just please deal with me slow. I need to warn everyone that I am the most sensitive vessel, a body embodying every single emotion contradicting and combining and blinding me to the reality so plain and trite. I was going to write earlier about this dream I had, until I realized it was too damn sad, today I intended to pretend glad, it seemed only fair, even with no one here. So the dream last night was about how this person comes bursting in the door of my house, I'm in the living room, but it was really that person's in real life. I was just like happy to see them coming in, until I realized they were angry, and bewildered, pressing me, with questions about this thing they assumed that I did, and I really did not at all, and I was frustrated. The words were about how they just knew it was me, and I stormed off after saying loudly about how I was actually pissed off (that they would EVER think that I would leave a note saying such a thing). I walked into the other room, and the dream-me is thinking how it was nice to be mad instead of sad, and I relished that moment, being anything but down. When I came back, I said they should know better, they should fucking know me better, I believe I was cursing. That person said they just figured it was me, then very slowly came to think about how the last letter I left was so innocent and kind, and I was pleased to see that person finally seeing me in the accurate light. It was not about the tiny scrawled note. Whatever it may have said. There was no apology for being misunderstood, and all the feelings and decisions based off that incorrect assumption. I felt empty. Until I awoke feeling guilt and shame, for what my mind makes to comfort me at night. I felt sad when I woke up, because the resolution of the dream, no matter how loose and meaningless, it was what I always want to happen in the end, of everything. The dramatics of the situation, then a resolution proving me pure in intentions, and loving but misinterpreted. I'm hiding in my room. Debating whether it's worse to be asleep, or imitate sleep. I am so terribly exhausting, but not the right kind, to sleep.
"GHOST ARE HAUNTED, WE ARE NOT."

Highest

"One should never direct people towards happiness, because happiness too is an idol of the market-place. One should direct them towards mutual affection. A beast gnawing at its prey can be happy too, but only human beings can feel affection for each other, and this is the highest achievement they can aspire to."

Power Struggle

""

It's Not Clever Lonely Or Interesting Lonely

"It’s ‘lonely lonely’ 
like the way it feels 
when you’re being 
hugged by someone 
and it somehow 
makes you sadder."

We Think Happened

“Life is rarely about what happened; it’s mostly about what we think happened.”

Looking

"You think you can love someone just by looking at 'em?"

"False awakening

A false awakening is a vivid dream about awakening from sleep. After a false awakening, subjects often dream they are performing daily morning rituals such as cooking, cleaning and eating. The experience is sometimes called a double dream, or a dream within a dream.

Lucidity

A false awakening may occur following an ordinary dream or following a lucid dream (one in which the dreamer has been aware of dreaming). Particularly if the false awakening follows a lucid dream, the false awakening may turn into a "pre-lucid dream", that is, one in which the dreamer may start to wonder if they are really awake and may or may not come to the correct conclusion. In a study by Harvard psychologist Deirdre Barrett, 2,000 dreams from 200 subjects were examined and it was found that false awakenings and lucidity were significantly more likely to occur within the same dream or within different dreams of the same night. False awakenings often preceded lucidity as a cue, but they could also follow the realization of lucidity, often losing it in the process.

Continuum

Another type of false awakening is a continuum. In a continuum, the subject falls asleep in real life, but in the dream following, the brain simulates the subject as though they were still awake. At times the individual can perform actions unknowingly. The movie Nightmare on Elm Street popularized this phenomenon.

]Symptoms of a false awakening

Certain aspects of life may be dramatized, or out of place in false awakenings. Things may seem wrong: details, like the painting on a wall, not being able to talk or difficulty reading (purportedly reading in lucid dreams is often difficult or impossible), or, oddly, normal types of foods gone missing. In some experiences, the subject's senses are heightened, or changed.

Realism and unrealism

Repetition

Because the mind still dreams after a false awakening, there may be more than one false awakening in a single dream. Subjects may dream they wake up, eat breakfast, brush their teeth, and so on; suddenly awake again in bed (still in a dream), begin morning rituals again, awaken again, and so forth. The philosopher Bertrand Russell claimed to have experienced "about a hundred" false awakenings in succession while coming around from a general anesthetic.

[edit]Types of false awakening

Celia Green suggested a distinction should be made between two types of false awakening:

[edit]Type 1

Type 1 is the more common, in which the dreamer seems to wake up, but not necessarily in realistic surroundings, that is, not in their own bedroom. A pre-lucid dream may ensue. More commonly, dreamers will believe they have awakened, and then either wake up for real in their own bed or "fall back asleep" in the dream.

A common false awakening is a "late for work" scenario. A person may "wake up" in a typical room, with most things looking normal, and realize he or she overslept and missed the start time at work or school. Clocks, if found in the dream, will show time indicating that fact. The resulting panic is often strong enough to jar the person awake for real (much like from a nightmare). A sense of relief almost always comes from realizing that no oversleeping actually took place.

[edit]

Type 2

The type 2 false awakening seems to be considerably less common. Green characterized it as follows:

the subject appears to wake up in a realistic manner, but to an atmosphere of suspense.[...] His surroundings may at first appear normal, and he may gradually become aware of something uncanny in the atmosphere, and perhaps of unwonted sounds and movements. Or he may "awake" immediately to a "stressed" and "stormy" atmosphere. In either case, the end result would appear to be characterized by feelings of suspense, excitement or apprehension.

Charles McCreery drew attention to the similarity between this description and the description by the German psychopathologist Karl Jaspers (1923) of the so-called "primary delusionary experience" (a general feeling that precedes more specific delusory belief). Jaspers wrote:

Patients feel uncanny and that there is something suspicious afoot. Everything gets a new meaning. The environment is somehow different—not to a gross degree—perception is unaltered in itself but there is some change which envelops everything with a subtle, pervasive and strangely uncertain light.[...] Something seems in the air which the patient cannot account for, a distrustful, uncomfortable, uncanny tension invades him.

McCreery suggests this phenomenological similarity is not coincidental, and results from the idea that both phenomena, the Type 2 false awakening and the primary delusionary experience, are phenomena of sleep. He suggests that the primary delusionary experience, like other phenomena of psychosis such as hallucinations and secondary or specific delusions, represents an intrusion into waking consciousness of processes associated with stage 1 sleep. It is suggested that the reason for these intrusions is that the psychotic subject is in a state of hyper-arousal, a state that can lead to what Ian Oswald called "micro-sleeps" in waking life. "

Seeing You

Seeing you see me honest happy made you so happy that it made me honest sad
due to the honest fact that it is such a rarity. I wanna make it not such a rarity,
honestly.

Attention

""

Actual Self Awareness

"Actual self awareness is the knowledge that you’re playing a character in someone else’s dream."

Between Dream And Nightmare

   A colleague of mine (seen as equal) once depicted and described Dream People to me. It was one of those ideas or concepts that you know so well, but it had yet to be voiced or explained by another, especially in such a simplistic manner. The subject of the discussion was lucid dreaming, and I recall thinking it was unusually pleasant to be listening to someone talk, not only on a topic of interest, but in an agreeable way. The said person was explaining how to contact another within a (lucid) dream, and the difficulties involved in attempting to do so. "There are two types of people in a dream", she stated, and it was crucial to know the difference between "dream people and the real [actual] person". It is hard, because the two kinds of people appear and look nearly identical to how a real person would and will look. 
  I was assured that the actual person would be present, but normally among the dream people. This is not to say that there is anything at all wrong with dream people, they are fairly essential to a dream, not exclusively in making a dream seem true in nature and feeling, but additionally in terms of interacting with them. Dream people socialize and collaborate in many things, with not only varying dream people, but one's self, as well as the real person(s). They can go from being hazy-face (and personality) human beings, to being specific and possibly even deceivingly important people. "You'll think it's the [significant] person that you're looking for, and it will just be a dream person". Dream people hold no truths or significance, they are plainly representations, symbols, and projections (of self or others). It is nearly as easy to mistake the nobodies for somebodies as it is to believe the reverse. But no matter what you are saying or doing to the dream people it changes/affects nothing. You are not dealing with anything at all, except for yourself (and they are good for just that). The succeeding endeavor in this process is getting the real person to recognize, and moreover accept you as being an actual person yourself. So, you eventually find the person, tryingly coerce them someway or another into comprehending this hopefully mutual understanding, and then you can finally commence in your desired outcome regarding this person (before you wake up).
   Well of all this, these phony and fictitious dream friends, acquaintances, and strangers, make up what is precisely my life.

Magicians

I believe in magic


I've witnessed radical transformations right before my eyes
and disappearing acts
they won't come back
I am either counting sheep,
or crying wolf,
usually a little of both.

I'm Worried About Entertaining You

    "Can you entertain yourself?"

        "Are you serious..?"

Stillness

"I choose to end the compulsive habit of thinking and speaking insecurities. These are not my insecurities. They were habitual thoughts passed down to me. The foundation I've lain for myself is nobel and true of heart and must be treated as such, with compassion and clarity. 

I choose to be quiet and let forthcoming answers reveal themselves without manipulation. The hyper intellectualization, wordiness, passion and superlatives (which have often driven the engine in my ego) serve to fuel the distortions of a happy life, or burn up happiness altogether. I choose to not put another log on that fire."

Fears

When waiting is measured is years.

How Long Can You Be Hung Up On A Dial Tone?

My heart drops further with every ring of this phone

so I'll cry inside my car until I get to return home

and we're surrounded, but this is where humans come to be alone

avoiding eye contact during the shared unusual behavior we will condone

some will replenish, some will read, and I park here each day to write you a poem

Down

"STRIPPED DOWN PAST NAKED"

Into The Fog

      "We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost."

Parable

"So this guy's walking next to his friend, the snake,
and the snake bites him,
and the guy acts like he can't believe that his friend just bit him,
and his friend says,
"You knew I was a snake.""

Time Passive

  and i wouldn't lie
  it's been no holiday living here
  though all the window blinds light up like fourth of july
  i've only felt the right kind of calm
  when they've strummed me slowly a night time song
  but mostly twelve months thinking about what i've done wrong
  and you would kiss me and say that it was home
  now this is home, i've passively build a world alone
  and now going elsewhere i'm feeling no kind of rush
  just another hideout for me to feel too much
  
   and i'll forget everything that he said
   just not yet, cause i'm in here
   but i can't get to bed

There's Good

"Now speak of anger,

forget all the fears you've kept about love and sex and death and faith, 

erased, or swinging sweet from around her neck and between her breasts. 

Let every lonely body finally break its fear of flesh and say,

"How strange it must've been back when we shook at the sight of sweat."

Let our worries wander out of like water streaming from a spring,

and sing of all the things our heads have failed to ruin yet. 

There's so much they have failed to ruin yet. 

Bright as lightning, loud as thunder, 

We'll move all the hurt aside to let love sustain our passions, 

And move up and onward. 

We are not our losses, we are only the extent to which we love.

So build a home for your family, and build a castle for your friends. 

Now set their beds with sheets and blankets, keep them safe until the end. 

I've felt the damage and burn from the fallout. 

My love failed but theirs prevailed. 

My friends, I'm only flesh and bone, 

but I won't let you die alone.

So leave our hearts at the foot of the mountain. 

Let our burdens be locked in the stone. 

If you will help me roll it upward, 

I won't let you die alone.

I see a beauty springing upward from the earth and from out our hearts. 

For all the bad that seems to plague us, I swear to you there's good. 

They say that death is not a problem, it's a promise, 

I can only say for sure that when it makes your bed I'll kiss your head "Goodnight."

So speak of all the love we lost, and what it cost us, 

Left us beg our breath to stop but we kept on and 

We were strong. We stayed bright as lightning, 

we sang loud as thunder, we moved ever forward. 

We are not our failures. We are love."