Transparent and breakable

More dreams. They only get more twisted. Taking my hopes as hostage and rendering them listless. Making sense of everything’s nothing. And -nothing- makes sense. Rising up, more like a limbo., seeking to find what is it of truth I may know. I feel like I am reaching into a melting pot and the ideas are ripe and the fruit is not. How do I get back to the feeling of elevating where the words spoken are the rhythms validating love. Endlessly. Entirely giving more more more. Still wanting to give more more more. But silence, it is misleading. Gaps are filled with meaningless pleading to an empty space. The wetness is recognized by my face and the facing of history in retrace mode. Please, I beg myself. Do not implode. Not again. Not this time. Rise up and receive the divine. Maybe In Time I will see and we will see. Maybe in time it will all make sense to me. But while time dares to not pass, I stretch my heart thin and it shatters like the glass. The same glass that I built my hearts house with, transparent and breakable in the name of love. Transparent and and breakable in the name of love. Transparent and breakable in the name of love.

Graphed Out

Graphed out. Exposure of pointed frames. Framed by the idea of what is translated as the same. The axis of x is different than the axis of y and why Is what I ask.

Graphed out. Exposures of the brain. Powered by the motivation of what is played as a game. The dice rolled as the movement some times the move comes too fast.

Graphed out. Saturation of emotion. Hues of intention pixelate in their space. The rise and fall of painted expectation is a selfish race.

Graphed out. Representing the vision. Giving a shutter to shudder from the incision. Pushing the speed of rejected or accepted implication.

Graphed out. Transparent with force. Presenting an expression of stifled composure. Giving the inside a chance for its external exposure.

I’m the asshole

What does it matter if my brain falls apart. Every time I express more shatter happens to my heart. Grief is overflowing and the day just goes on by. So what does it matter if again, today I cry. It’s been stated, already heard, so what is the importance now. Life keeps on moving for everyone, and for me I’m not sure how. I’m sad. But aren’t we all sad about something too. I’m the asshole that compares my pain to you. My trigger makes me lack the empathy I need in the moment. My anger makes me see the lack in me, I guess I should own it. But I’m in grief. I try to share for some comfort, some relief. But the day just keeps on going. I’m the one left with my pain growing. But hey. Tomorrow is a new day. Hey. Tomorrow it’ll probably go away.

Grow or Go

I KNOW YOU’RE NOT READING THIS. I KNOW YOU DON’T CARE. BUT IF YOU COULD DO THE WORLD A FAVOR AND TRY TO BE FAIR. DELETE ME ENTIRELY OR FACE UP TO OUR TRUTH. BE A BETTER EXAMPLE OF LOVE FOR OUR YOUTH. LET THEM SEE MATURITY. LET THEM SEE GROWTH. LET THEM SEE THAT IN YOU, THERE IS A FUTURE OF HOPE. SHOW THE COMPASSION THAT COMES AS NATURAL AS THE ACT. HAVE COMMUNICATION THAT SHOWS YOU DO IN FACT HAVE TACT. WELCOME GROWTH FOR YOUR SOUL, THE KIND THAT MOVES MOUNTAINS INSIDE. SHOW SOME LOVE AND LET DOWN THE HIGH PRIDE. BE WHO YOUR SOUL CLAIMS AND LET LOVE LEAD THE WAY. SILENT DISREGARD IS A FOOLISH GAME TO PLAY. IT PRESENTS OPPONENTS RATHER THAN TEAMMATES OF THIS EARTH. IT SETS LOVE ASIDE AND LEADS ONLY WITH HURT. YOU GIVE TO THE WORLD BUT REFUSE TO TAKE PART, IN OWNERSHIP OF LOVE OR IN THE HEALING OF WOUNDED HEARTS.

WHEN IT COMES TO ACCOUNTABILITY, ILL TAKE IT OVER AND AGAIN. BECAUSE GROWTH IS THE ONLY GAME WHERE WE SHOULD TRY TO WIN. I HAVE SO MUCH CONCERN FOR THE EXAMPLE YOU ARE GIVING AND MY HEART BREAKS FOR THE CONFUSION IN WHICH WE’VE BEEN LIVING. PERHAPS ONLY I AM THE ONE WHO FEELS THE SADNESS AND LONGING, OR PERHAPS IT IS ONLY LOVE THAT I WISH IN BELONGING.

SUCCESS COMES AFTER MASSIVE FAILURE REARS UP. BUT ONLY IF REFLECTION HAS BEEN OBSERVED THROUGH THE EYES OF AWAKENING LOVE

This is the face.

This is the face of love. Each time my heart is touched by love it is etched in my soul. It creates a path of proof through the smile’s lines of love’s joy and laughter. Then wanders through the brow’s furrow of love’s wonder. It penetrates the pores pouring from love’s pain. Love looks like this.

This is the face of desperation. Pleading for the pain to process and bring peace. Begging for release from the bindings and shackles of shame from continually feeling this way. Bargaining no more, but blinded by defeat. Desperation looks like this.

This is the face of hope. Recognizing that this is a moment of an awareness of raw experience and reality. Lit up briefly by the reflections of the tears sweet brilliance of beaded reckoning. Relinquishing the idea that I have to keep it festered and vested in the cavity my soul reveals as wounded. Hope looks like this.

This is the face of disgust. Putting too much sacred deliverance into a space already self filled. Giving with relentless effort to offer more just to prove worth to the takers who’ve passed on praise. Inflicting a self imposition and acknowledgement of misalignment. Self, not self. Disgust looks like this.

This is the face of bewilderment. Standing in a cleansed body state of muddled mind. Perceptions shifting and breathing brings only moments of mild mannered transitions. In disbelief with feeling of washed over and sharing poses more as imposition, overlooked and taken for granted. Bewilderment looks like this.

This is the face of strength. Grimace and regrouping, bawling and growing. Perseverance begins to permeate after repeated experience. Going in as a dove, coming out scorched dark, now a raven, yet continually still it flies. Rising to the challenge baffling the deliverer of discourse. Strength looks like this.

This is the face of grief. The sudden onset of not understanding that operations continue. Disbelief of lack of attentive heart compassing language and cognition. Wayside, left in wonder. Sad overcame by weight weighed by a judge of less caliber. Cast aside and left alone in the debris of dismantling. Grief looks like this.

Running joke

It’s not safe here anymore. Maybe it is safer. I feel stuck between loving myself and being a self hater. Traitorous to what is reality mostly because I am confused by the indiscrepancies of what I see or think is me. But who am I kidding? It’s me, I’m the joke running. Only fooling the messenger who is delivering the ammunition gunning my own self down, I’ve stitched a target in the threading of each gown that I wear, each item I put on, it’s just a matter of time, I’m not sure just how long it will take for me to be blamed for another mistake. Another settling down from the the shit I create. The things I make up in my mind. It comes cued in, right in time and in line with any hope that “I’m better” … in short that’s the descriptive head letter. Short hand expresses the energies lessened and the dread of resent is moreover presented.

Unprompted

It should be Pretty obvious, but still you stay oblivious, with your disposition sitting in ignorance, your aloof stature coming off as righteous. But it’s not. It just divides us. It pries the ties that try to keep us united and offers me the insight I need to evaluate the efforts from the undecided.

And deciding these realizations have been provided.They all seemed to be coinciding and practically implied that I am being denied the most profound happenings that bring me alive, offers me vitality. These are the most of upmost important expressions that are the genetic coding of my humanity. This is the way to offer interest of genuine connectivity. Yet your soul seeks out mine Inactively.

In the lack of action I see all the offered time for our connecting to align and reveal the divine purpose of hearts like yours and mine. I thought of this as intertwining with the grand design. Perhaps it’s not. Or perhaps it’s just one bit to combine into a book of truths we loosely bind.

Now bound together with a single thread, common to the past on a path we have to lightly tread. The destination is clear, it should be near, instead, I’m ridden in bed with an illness born from retaliation from what I expected. in my head, we are growth oriented and selfless love lead.

Leading me to feel an emotional haunt. An escaping of a hope that what moves me is also your want, wanting my passions to be on your list to flaunt, proving you crave more of me and use the tools and let our love create a new font. One that is read every chance the eyes have to seek to be closer, driven to know more, without prompt.

Again again

Guess what? I am grieving again… Again… Again… Again… was silently. The last four days. Grief. Again.

And I’ve been holding it into myself because let’s face it, who really cares?… Yeah I know that we all say that we care, because of course we do. But at the end of the day isn’t it just another emotion, again? Again?

This is not the kind of emotion that you can just not have… Yes you can work on triggers, you can work on breathing, you can work on a holding it and letting it be and acknowledging it,… But eventually it goes away, again. It’s not something that is “Dealt ” with the never to resurface. It does resurface, again. And sinks and rises again.

And I don’t think that people don’t care, because I know in their form of caring they do, we do. We all have our capacities. The closest people in my relationships don’t even ask me how my heart is doing in relation to the death of my daughter. It’s hard to want to go there for them… Again.

I think I have one friend who actually inquires about Archaea specifically. So I know at least one out of my hundreds of friends and even at that the closest people in my life… Someone cares. Which helps phase the day… Again.

But moreover I think the bitterness comes from within. Because the levels that grief touches are constantly surprising me. Over and over I find myself saying… “Am I still feeling this again?” “Am I really at this moment again”…

And again I find myself saying… “No one has ever been here before. Not even you. (to myself) No one has ever experienced this moment in time and space emotion heart and brain. I am the first to navigate this. People are welcome to be on or off my ship, but the captain I must remain, and feel all these waters out… And search for a stable ground. “. …again.

Wasting

It’s the walking behind you. Because if I walk in front then those are minutes I am not seeing you , wasting all that is being given to me In that time.

It’s the rushing around . Because if I just take my time then those are minuteS I am not sitting next to you, wasting all that is being given to me in that time

It’s the texting. Because really what I want is to hear you as often and as long as possible, listening to your soul, otherwise wasting all the thoughts being given to you in that time

About me, from you.

I want you to feel the way I feel, when you’re near.

I want you to feel the way I feel, when you’re gone.

I want you to feel the way I feel, when the nighttime comes close.

I want you to feel the way I feel, when the sun is opening my eyes. ……

……………… about me

I want to feel the way you feel, when you receive affection from me

I want to feel the way you feel, when you have my full attention

I want to feel the way you feel, when I touch you and give healing

I want to feel the way you feel, when I satisfy your pleasures

…………………… from you

I want you to feel the way I do, when you are my first thought each day

I want you to feel the way I do, when you are my last desire each night

I want you to feel the way I do, when you are the only one I want

I want you to feel the way I do, when you are a major priority

……..,…………………. about me

I want to feel the way you do, when I am always available to you

I want to feel the way you do, when I give myself to you, any time

I want to feel the way you do, when you know how much I love you

I want to feel the way you do, when you know that I am yours only

…………………… from you