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.
It’s always been a path that has twisted the second I have put my foot upon what was perceived as stable earth. Especially any time I have made any proclamation of change or declarative to myself. Or anyone else for that matter. There was never really a beginning step, nor do I see the paths direction clearly now.
It has an air of taste but not fully indulge, regardless of the all you can eat buffet. It is the holding back children from the desert bar after eating all their dinner. A reminder to the senses that they are only in control of detecting deliciousness but not given the utensils to fulfill the salivation for hope and fulfillment.
Looking into the mirror has been a ritual in compartmentalism and I think I have become the pastor of preaching projection. The imagery that I am seeing in this reflection is of generic body parts and decorations on the anatomy. it’s not a clear picture, it is a bit foggy. And yet it is clearly seen as a component for an opportunity to critique my whole self, none the matter of the bold attempt to witness through another’s observation.
Moments of beauty linger still and wrap their scent stamp of importance. immersing ideas that memory and present agenda can somehow coexist. Breathing in a breath that was taken years already before and freshly adorned with a sound. This envelopment of calming acceptance has been trying to guide an old soul. The urgency of anew has been heeded. Moving into the fog has been the design all along.
In my world there is no question,
In my world it is never too much to make mention
Of the love that sits on the tips of your lips
And whispers confidence
morning through nighttime
So the receiving tender ears might find
Nothing to fear
The love is near.
In my world the pull is attractive and strong
In my world the evening embrace has been yearned all day long
watching the time as it is shed away
inviting energy waiting to play
leaving the void, i will not stay
nothing to fear
the love is here.
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
I feel alone. I feel like the only one sitting here in this throne. Emptiness for accompaniment. Sadness in this establishment. Housing big servings of feelings that are only mine to digest. Pulling my chair up to an unoccupied table. Feeling like instead of in my kingdom, I am eating from the stables. Being fed bullshit enough to get my belly full. Then I feel uncomfortable. I realize that I am not being fulfilled, this has become illogical. Magical time and show is over. I need to be held onto forever. Or at least when it’s clever to show that the care is as deep as said. More than text messages and weekend dates in bed. More than hey this is what I did today, more like, I need you in my life, how is your heart, baby? Me, I’m crying inside I’m crying outside, Im feeling like it’s the pride that keeps me from dying. Again with the crying. I wish I didn’t feel so alone in my mind. Especially when I share it so openly. I give my thoughts over to help you see me accordingly. See me so that my heart feels your love for me. But I don’t feel that. I feel pushed, slightly. Away is not quite right, but averted from deepening. Lonesome reasoning.
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.
it took a little longer but it has come again, and the interest of keeping its company is wearing incredibly thin. it is not welcomed and never invited to stay, yet no matter how many times it is dismissed, back to me, it finds its way.
why is it so insistent and why does it think it is wanted? it only leaves me hollow and my soul left haunted. it begins by tip toeing a twirl around my spirit, and tries to offer a swoon of songs, starting so softly, alluring me to hear it.
how many times have i looked into its implying eyes, intentions of hope while the path laid ahead is paved by lies. how many times have i fallen into its hand basket, so pretty and made well..i cry out simply, too many too many too many to tell.
it takes opportunities to jab its insults, leaves remnants of disturbance, radical distortions and tumult. even among the scattered shrapnel and debris, it spins its webs of false ideas and ideals, waiting to snare its prey, me.
i stand with resistance and beg for it to leave, disappear, don’t return. stop looking at my soul to set your fire in, find nowhere else to burn. enticing me, with its smoking curls and its beckoning brimstone, i run, i seek refuge in love, that is my home.
you hear my laughter and think that it is joy, that sound must be what it is.
the situation will often determine that it is my mechanism of defense .
you see me smile and think that it is happiness, the curve of my lips.
the length of time it rests on my face, is the real qualifier of if my happiness exists.
tell me the difference between the lamented grin and the forced smirk
who has the job that is supposed to make my heart’s smile work?
the technician sees the upward turn and thinks its a professional perk
yet never reads the manual, just goes on assumption while the sadness lurks.
in the land of coincidence this was the most generous description of happenstance. it wasn’t like it was just a casual encounter or a quick side eyed glance. it came across as poignant decision making lacking any evidence of chance.
a change was noticed and the energy fell weak. the exchange of interest softened below the peak. it became directed elsewhere and the loss was not meek. somehow fainting in persistence week by week.
an energy brewing and thickening each day creating suffocation. a knowledge among the stars shining down inappropriate provocation. and an air about it ruminating vanity, causing a personal indignation.
Tangible in the smell of something not quite right in the senses. Any attempt of clarification builds up an unnecessary display of defenses, only confirming the initial questioning of advances.
It’s a cosmic awareness of conversations employed. Communications offering disdain to the committed love joy. This Layering of perspective creating new versions of allowing a secretive ploy.
Encouragement of union and unity is on a wavering foundation. Opportunity presented daily for egoist masturbation gives a slide of hand to genuine and pure intention. castrating genuine and symbiotic connection and affection.
Gripping onto a slippery slope of ideas and projecting. Never ending the questioning with a confirmation or upfront viewing. Only hiding. Only silently replying. Only giving all into something that is mystifying.