Freed

On dandelion winds,

Cinnamon kisses,

Brushed over with delicate leaves.

Boisterous as laughter,

Pounded hollow log thumps–

Push the churned blood,

Enshrined by citrus light.

Upon the cusp of promise,

Shattering rays to reveal–

What lies within.

Just Now…

A sudden mallet shatter. A window blasted open. Sun rays beaming. A world of dust cast into the light. This new turn is a portent of happiness.

The soot brushed away. Flattened cardboard. Curled paper. Crumpled into piles and heaved into the shadows.

Testing cautiously. Pain once so near. Thoughts are below but now rising above. What more awaits to be discovered I will soon learn. A journey of shared experiences.

Everless

Twins of twilight–

Pixie-blink a flicker,

The grounded stars dance,

Hands catching–

Their fires alive.

Back across the stretching sky,

Racing alone to a distant–

Faded horizon.

Dust falls to ash,

Dimming until dark again.

Alternate Universes

My thoughts run tonight, bucking through the crisp air. J is back in my thoughts, as she has been of late, and always to a lesser extent. I can’t help but spin alternate realities where she brings a stabilizing force to my family dynamic and a new balance is achieved. A place where her quirky, clever humor and woman’s perspective provided balance and helped us feel equal together. Laughing with frequency and living in a state where stability was enjoyed. Dreamy, bleary and almost laughable at just how far from reality it actually is.

The world is cruel, and through it I too have also acted cruelly, and kindly. All at the wrong times, it would seem. Now that the alignment of her life and mine has passed, there is no going back to change what has already been written. The view that accompanies this thought is inevitably folly.

I’m embracing my life now as a caretaker and forever disciple of family. It is so nourishing to protect those we love, and do our best to preserve their safety. I only have so much I can give, but what I have, I do. I love them and I will help guide them to peace in whatever way I can. In my dreams, I reach out to J and open my arms to her again, despite the furious rage she has aimed at me. I have always known her regardless. Somehow, there is peace again.

I can’t help but long for a parallel reality as my own comes under strain. I always imagine one with her in it, when I project myself forward. She is still just as jubilant, having not been thrashed by my disorder. I see so many alternate realities where we coexisted splintering off into infinity.

She opened me up: I got tattoos and pierced my ears, and she exposed me up to a world I had never known before, but was curious to explore. I too gave her things as our paths intersected often once we grew. But I was a fool, and so was she. In thus reality, she may have been able to, but I was never going to live that dream.

Night falls on a turbulent evening. It’s at times like this that I feel truly alone, with no confidant within my bubble to relate myself to. I remember having that though, and it is the greatest joy of my life. For a time, I was blessed.

As in my current predicament, I am granted the strength and stability to endure the changes my family is going to transition through. I am fortunate. I can do more. I will do more for them.

I have dreams. They will forever say dreams. I look back, and I am filled with regret.

I just know I will never be over her.

Solstice

The days are growing again, slowly, coming to bear full as we travel around and around that big yellow thingie. We have been pointed at darkness for long enough, I say.

I’m hoping not to dream anymore. Rips are forming in my canvas, and the formerly delightful introspective brush set seems to paint only in black. It is this dark hour, when cuddling up by a warm seem the most honest if truths, that I mourn. I yearn, pointlessly.

The sun is coming. From out the shadows, it is blooming, growing. Radiating. I wish for that return to the hissing summer ghosts on the dry wind. The far away pollen smells of distant places, deep wet mountains and trees gulping in and breathing out.

Maybe this is it. Maybe not. It’s better to be prepared to deal with a difficult outcome than to be surprised by it. I can be surprised by all sorts of other things, but not calamity.

Down to the last few days before Christmas. Family, friends, fire… and freaking huge buds. Beer, bread and BADDA BOOM! We do know how to have a good time.

I do t think anyone is getting in the circle now. Not anyone new. It’s just too late.

Threadbare

A sinew;

Twisting, stretch-snapping the expanse,

Shredded down to an impossible wire.

But feeling it there–

Some thread still binding,

In unrequited twitterpation,

Escaping the fury of torment,

Yet yanking at the throat–

Scraping the hole left by death.

It’s only in dreaming–

That some bridge still exists,

A span still endures,

Where she can still be found.

Real

Where is this place? My feet are not on the ground. I am compelled by the gusts of pain, upon an uncertain wind of remembering. How to escape it? Flee to some other world where things are different, albeit temporarily. Long for rest where dreams may bring me near to someone I used to love. A pervading sense of ongoing solitude restricting my oxygen. The waves crash ceaselessly. Pounding the craggy shore. Again and again.

I wish my pinky toe would die and fall off my foot. All it brings is pain, being a magnet for hard corners.

There is no resolution here, only an ongoing application of filter to restrain the localized toxicity of reality. The bitter bile of truth, ingested agonizingly.