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.
I feel vibrations on the ground and tires trembling over the earth. With each rotation and gripping of the rubber onto the gravel, my breath subsides. I track the volume and duration of travel. Little bits of hope escaping the stronghold of knowing better and disappointment. Breathe again. Now I hear nothingness. Hope remembers this feeling and falls away fast.
Among all the other shifts, I could feel this one floating about my essence. Taunting, in its own subtle form, only offering enough aloofness to keep my instincts peaking. It could have been that a friend gave the plain prophecy or rather New Years resolution in disguise. He knew I knew., but to know, and breathe the actual thickness of the air where it should be light and brisk… that is the knowledge. also, the knowledge to come.
A few deep personal issues have come to a head the last week and it was expected. I felt ironic that the timing of what I spoke about months ago have taken place in my observation within such the time frame and now I am facing many things full face.
I have seen my face in the reflection in each person I have encountered and applied some form of judgment on. It is simply amazing how much the judgement I don’t actually pass on others gets absorbed by my own interpretation of who I am. I take in all these assumptions and let the direction of opinion be stewarding.
Now after have been going through some life changing moments recently, I observe that there is a new beginning. It’s esoteric but timely and is most assuredly described as cliche
the free resolution turned my faded goal of yesteryear back in toward my interrogation of self and scrutinized the very thing I keep running into. Blame. And in the process of finding happiness in the midst of darkness I keep pulling the cloak further over the progress.
Entering the new year was to represent another day. Another chance to show who I am, despite how I think I am turning into one crazy deluded woman on a mission to understand pain.
Entering the new year was to be a breath of fresh and ready filled air. Oxygenated with aspirations and inspirations.
I did not anticipate having to exit the end of the year watching what I do not have. Nor did I even come close to anticipating that to bring in the new year I’d once again be breathing the heavy air that holds my body down to the seat so that it doesn’t rudder away with the speed of which my heart beats.
But I was thankful for the company that I was blessed with. It leveled my heart just enough so I could see and have the knowledge that now I know, it is time to focus on intentional healing. Even in the pain that lingered from precious and previous days, there was a love holding my understanding or at least holding enough of me so that I felt secure enough to express my dualities of existence in the previously mentioned experiences.
Entering into the new year has provided ample opportunities to utilize the information gathered through last. It is an energy that is a risen vibration, waiting to be tapped into. Human conditions are fighting just as strong to be in charge and I am in the sense of feeling astral.
I can only hope that more of us will continue to heed the purity of instinct, deliverance or receiving the messages. Internal work. Eternal work.
I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what it is with this feeling I don’t want to let go
but I know I’m no longer healing
I can see the happiness congealing
into little pools. …
when I pass by
i see the reflection of only a fool
who keeps trying to jump over the puddle forgetting it’s a river
forcing myself to Drown,
into a sliver of hope
waiting for it to Hold my body
and help me Float
Flow freely, I don’t wanna keep repeating these same mistakes
waiting and hoping for love to grow,
but it won’t,
how could it when I raise the stakes every day.
This is loves game to play,
bounce the heart back-and-forth between what is real
and what is my reality,
what is real to me?
I only shorten that time by the time I spend questioning
the time I spend assuring
that deception is luring and
obscuring the clarity,
the hilarity is the severity
of how disparity takes a hold of me
and I see that I can see
but I’m blind to the outcome,
trying to outrun
the inevitability that this journey is done, drug me down turned me into someone that is no longer some one’s
present and certainly not future…
it’s fear is pure.
Born out of hell for the last two years. And now I can see
how I am responsible for these
about to be tears.. .
All the hypocrisy
coming from my broken mirror.
No wonder it all looks mispieced
and no wonder my perception
is not perceived the way that I can, conceptually
this is a malfunctioning plan
if I expect to somehow reflect
these jagged edges
and expect you to understand
and make them smooth
and cut clean like hedges..
still broken and rebuilt
but preferred to stack my brokenness tidy and esthetically,
brick by brick of emotion
as to predict the pattern accordingly, unfortunately
or a misfortune for me
or perhaps it is all jumbled beautifully, but when you look you see
shattered and shredded stories
staring back at you
from your imagery of truth,
and hear from your preferred tuning
in or tuning out of the details
and the reply is emptily
offering empty hearts,
easily breaking apart ,
what little is left of loves art
To be told I’m loved. Even if it’s late.
To be told I’m loved. Even if it’s early.
To be told I’m loved. Even if I know it.
To be told I’m loved. Especially before I sleep.
To be told I’m loved. Especially when I am sad.
To be told I’m loved. Especially when I’m being difficult.
To be told I’m loved. Every time I’m full of doubt.
To be told I’m loved. Every time I want to run away.
To be told I’m loved. Every time I feel distant.
To be told I’m loved. Proved by desired time talking.
To be told I’m loved. Proved by asking me to be near.
To be told I’m loved. Proved by asking about my heart.
To be told I’m loved. Providing a safe space for my healing.
To be told I’m loved. Providing open ears to hear my feelings.
To be told I’m loved. Providing a vision of love without fear.
To be told I’m loved. Desire to share time and energy.
To be told I’m loved. Desire to learn more and connecting deeply.
To be told I’m loved. Desire to know and inquire my mind.
To be told I’m loved. Devotion of kindness and empathy for my pain.
To be told I’m loved. Devotion of priority to reflect affections.
To be told I’m loved. Devotion to my being, because of love, only love.
Why do I feel so out of place? What is it that my brain cannot erase? It holds on too tight to what I cannot say. It’s like a corset too tight at the lace.
Why do I feel so removed from myself? What is it that puts my comfortability so high on a shelf? It makes me reach further into empty wealth. Like I’m without the coin to toss into the well.
Why do I feel less like I am less than I am? What is it that keeps me from the “bigger plan?” It keeps me from deciding to sit or to stand. Like I am reading a book that I don’t understand.
Why do I feel like I could just fade away? What is it that keeps me wanting to stay? It withholds my affirmation and my mind starts to sway. It’s like I am without instruction but expected to play.
Why do I feel like I don’t belong? What is it that keeps me with this yearning so strong. It’s like I want to be right but impressed to be wrong. It is something I’ll keep up but not knowing for how long.
the whispers on the wind that makes your soul sing…. the rays from the sun, warmth to your heart it does bring…. the rhythm of joy as a child’s purpose on a swing…..
I want to be your everything
the delighted witness of fresh blooms in the dew of spring…. the silent wishes into the well which coin tosses do cling…. the reverberations of nature’s song when the chimes of wind ring….
I want to be your everything
the fastened dependence of feathers in span of the birds wing…. the clash of electric surges and exposure of radiant lightning…. the lace trimmed and adorned twirl on the dress of a little darling….
I want to be your everything
the water claimed holy sprinkled about while offered blessing…. the vibration of love expressed through tribal drumming….. the endearment of grace given in darkness waiting for morning….
I want to be your everything
And then I realized, I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that there was no difference between those others and myself. See at first I thought I was less than them. I thought that I was nowhere near the bar they had set. I don’t have those skills. I don’t have that body. I don’t have that status. There is no way that I could ever be that.
And then I realized that I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that there was no difference between how you see them and how you see me. See at first, I thought I was more than them. I thought that I must have set the bar higher. I have admirable skills. I have a body that you crave. I have an aura about my status. There is no way they could ever be like me.
And then I realized that I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that perhaps there was no differentiation between the lust for those and the accessibilty to me. See at first I thought that I was chosen over them, but maybe I was just settled for. I have some more than excellent skills that make you shake, but maybe if they gave the time, youd exprience the same from them. I have a body that when your eyes are closed, you slip into as though maybe it is one of them you are thinking about. I have a status that says I want love and will take it if it seems as though maybe you want to love me, because they are taken or live too far away. There is no way that you would pass up on them because they are much more than me.
And then I realized that maybe I am just a pretty girl.
The sound of your heartbeat is so strong when I’m near. The vibration beats with mine and it sounds so clear. Be with me always, you are mine, is the song from it I hear. But with fear, I interpret that as you don’t want me to stay.
The touch of your hands are so inviting to my skin. The way you pull me close pulls me deep within. The embrace confirms there is no beginning and no end. But with fear, I feel your hands speaking for your mouth, go away.
The look in your eyes lurk in to my soul. They target my heart and let love unfold. Gazing brilliantly with passion warming my heart that feels cold. But with fear, I see they see a game to play.
The voice of your words come with love and delight. Swirling around me encouraging to give up this doubted fight. Originally offering security and no reason for flight. But with fear, I have read absence and distance separating our days.