Still Understanding

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."

Even A Lot Of Other Things

I see now that I broke trust with myself, I made promises and promises and promises, that I would never tell a soul, but couldn't hold. I watched myself betray my own word, and like this was anything else at all,  find myself saying, "You promised..." And whether it be to think or do something, stick to something, act a certain way, refrain, control, withstand. You promised not to get triggered, feel that sick twinge in your gut. I drift away, focusing so intently, endeavoring to decipher the difference between the present and past. Trying to decipher between my story and sentiments, and every other story explained to me. I promised that I wouldn't make a 'me' and a 'you' in every single passage, because the me just has the lower hand, and resorts to the most extreme self loathing and depreciation when talked about by any others. I feel the anguish and disgust for every pathetic person, especially those who grovel, I promised myself never ever to do that. I promised myself to stick to the important things, heart in it or not, I said not to revert so easily, back to myself. So what do you do, when you can no longer trust yourself with your life? You look at your anguish, and patterns, and privately shattered promises, the way someone says that someone totally else was wracked with self doubt and an absence of faith. You feel rejection and insulted because they were talking of you, you feel rejection and insulted because you promised, promised not to feel that way. And I can forge happiness, and presumably even a lot of other things, but what do you do when you cannot trust yourself any more?


I took sleeping pills and fucked up the tenses, worse than ever, the point I was attempting to get across was that it's tough to tell which pledge to keep.

I See Myself In A Trash Can

I saw myself in the garbage can, he told that he can't find anything, I say nothing. I wonder does he even feel this repouring out of him and into myself. 
I think of some super smarmy remark, withhold it, 

and leave.

I Know You

"You aren't very creative, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"I know you're creative, you're just lazy."

Onward

Thank god, and I love my friends. Nothing has ever been so honest as when I say I wouldn't find it worth it without their words and their selves. And I'll get by with some at my side, if only the world could bear enough fairness for me to return the kindness.

Take heart, to take care.

Just Once

A friend explained to me once why it is that I rehash late at night; crawling scraping and pleading for the results that I nearly get, once had. I'll get as close as I can, light myself on fire to feel the comfortable pain of old flames. (If I choke and cry I'll tell myself I must have done something right.) The worst is that the conscious awareness of this problem did not decrease it in any way, but rather somehow heightened it, and its potential to go as far and deep as I am able to go. Building barriers, and walls just to break them down while trying to catch a little sleep, I know that now there is nothing else I would rather do, and it's no wonder I wake up each morning to a dream from you.

Shelfed

The feeling of collecting dust on a shelf
a broken unspoken promise to take care of myself
well with all that happened and didn't, all the staying and leaving
you aren't doing so well and I found my way to get even
forgotten objects and feelings
you didn't have to not say you've never been reminded of me
we know you wouldn't mean it

you couldn't anyway
hand me something I needed
not with the slight hand you were dealt
I hope to either be remembered,
or just finally fall and break from this shelf



I hope to crash and shatter
clash and scatter
cut you open in your bareness
tear this right open from the seams of wounds
that you find too daunting to approach
and I find too haunting to reproach
it's doomed to remain flat lined forever at this rate
call it heaven or hell, curses or fate
I'll chalk it up to violence
pulling stitches out of myself each time it gets late

Pining For

" I have nothing but the time and space I’ve been pining for now,  

and I am using this opportunity to try and remember 

why I thought this was a good idea. "

Meeting People

I met a man today, and I'm not really sure within myself if it is better if I know people's names or if I do not. The sense of mystery and anonymity is wonderful, but so is picking apart every bit of information you have acquired, and I happen to like names. I was in a flustered dream-like state, running around 24th street like an idiot, not caring too much, because it was 24th. If I hadn't forgotten that six month old paycheck in the first place, I wouldn't have even been there, but I am looking around the streets, up 24th and down Castro. At the corner is a man, not a boy, just a very average guy, but more of a man. He had light brown hair, with a short beard of the same color, and I noticed first his red sweater, then dark messenger bag. I was a bit embarrassed at how foolish I looked, and felt a bit uncomfortable with the eye contact that we accidentally made. I blamed myself for the situation and how weird it was, but waited for him to walk away, as I panned the streets for a silver car. The next time our eyes grazed, he was turned around now, facing where I had stopped to stand. I wanted this all to go away, assuming he either was confused by my looking, or was wanting to know directions or the like. I decided to really look this time, and before I noticed I was smiling, I looked to see the most friendly and attractive smile I could recall. My next thought was if he was gay, and now clearly not wanting directions, why is he wanting to talk to me. I avoided this all until he spoke to say hi, I returned the greeting, clearly overtly humiliated, and still scoping every car and street in, I am sure, a strange manner. He was still at the crosswalk, so handsome and put together, ready to go, but he did not walk. The moment was more drawn out than it was, our smiles also, and I just stood then in that moment, ready for him to take off. He glances at my light, and still smiling spoke softly but clear that he was not trying to hold me up, to take my light if I wanted to walk the adjacent crossing, I really smiled now because there was no way to explain I had nowhere really to go. I told him that I wasn't planning to, I'm actually just waiting for a ride, I said looking at every car and street. No one has ever looked more interested in something, and the moment just sucked in me, with his feminine voice and careful hair. I never wanted his smile to end, but knew I had just seconds remaining. He seemed more perplexed by it all than I was, did he ask how or what I was doing? I don't know. I also forget why, but we said our goodbyes, slow and honest, and he had his light. I recall sort of spinning around, running towards the bank still on 24th, still stifling an embarrassed smile.I then ran fast on Castro, into the silver car. I felt so elated, still flustered, and then, I felt that forlorn, familiar feeling that I will never see him again.




I think I liked him because he did not remind me of anyone.

The Moment And How It Was Meant To Be

"And in every moment, in every event of your life, the Beloved is whispering to you exactly what you need to hear and know."

Serendipity

He said, I love you, I dream about seeing you and I don't just want to dream it, I wish to live it. What are the odds? Of all the things to say.

Grow Up

And perhaps you'll grow up to be nothing more than the validation that I could really fail at something
but I want to maybe grow up to be more than the situations and people that left me behind, and I could be
you probably told me that

I Awoke With This In My Head

Stuck in my mind, every word I did not trace with my fingers, stuck in your mind, what I did not write

     "So tomorrow if you meet me

     In my tangle of apology

     Rest assured, I used to be someone."

But Don't Give Up

   "leave, 
    but don't give up."

Being Happy In Dreams

Is Worse Than Being Sad In Them. 


 I laughed and laughed and said this is my real laugh, and I am finally happy again and it's all been fraud but this is real. I felt laughter, joy, and most of all acceptance, I said I knew I would find you again.