Journal Entry 4/14/14

Seeing her again is somewhat surreal...

I remember when I'd spend nights trying to figure out what I'd say or how'd I act when I saw her again. There was a time when I thought that I would never see her again actually. I just figured that when she got married and had her son, she'd be happy. 

Aftermath

In the wake of our bodies seperating from one another
bridging your heart to mine beginning with a pelvis.
Beginning with a word.
A story of words
 like bombs waiting for the ground,
remember the way your dream folded into mine perfectly
especially at the hip.
As I spilled to the floor from your bed
slipped my arm from under the small of your back
I prayed that you would remain silent, still, and lifeless.
I prayed that you would not miss me.
That your shoulders would not be weighed down
carrying
everything from last night in to this morning.
What a beautiful morning.
What a beautiful death.

New Ventures

Hey folks,
I know it's been a while since I've been on here and so much has happened since then. I'll be posting a bit on here but I'm launching my new blog and I'll keep you guys in the loop. About to get ready to record my next podcast in a bit when Jovan gets here. We are slowly building an audience and I'm slowly allowing myself to be happy about the changes in my life now. Wish me luck.

Peace

Journal Entry 6/11/13

Developments Have Not Been Made
Some moments ago..
I wrote about a love I've longed for, beyond my own comprehension kinda love. And to no prevail have I found more wanting lately. Less writing and more wanting. Less living and more waiting or waining with the wind between my ribs. If I were a story teller I'd be able to purge this out of me. I'd be happier to have spilled the sour parts of me out somewhere that only I know the true location of. The bite of bitter everything swims just under the surface of my skin. It has the power to consume me since I gave it so much of my strength. At least I can see it. But now what?

FACT

"At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet."- Plato

Journal Entry 5/20/13

so there's this girl...
trust me there is always a story following when anyone writes "so there's this girl..."

But I digress, so there's this girl I've been missing. We never officially dated but we do have history. In a normal situation anyone would have called this quits, and left history where it belongs, in the past. However the story behind us is something that always tend to side-eye it's way back into relevance. There have only been two girls that I can say I've truly loved in this life so far, outside of those I was born with. It's funny that there names are so similar. Anna and Annie. Truth is, these two were responsible for so much dramatic change in me. I mean "dramatic" in the best of ways. Not that I didn't love any of my other ex-girlfriends, the love I had for these two were just so different from anything else.

Not to sound like a punch-drunk love line but, I loved these women on a cellular level and that will never change. The thing is, one of them is still so present in my life, that I can literally fall back into her without meaning to, without trying, where ever I am, and whoever I'm with. Anna.

She and I are so different but so much alike that it's odd because liking this girl so much kinda makes me feel self absorbed. IF THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, so what. We have that drag razor blades over your arms to feel human kinda love. That 'Hey Arnold' "I like you, like you" kinda love. Love like, every poem I've ever written was secretly about her kinda love. Purely based off of some primal attraction and singular connection that will not fade away and has no hope in sight, but you still have hope. We still hold on to some kind of hope, not braving the time between us but admiring what could be.

I've never been brave enough to grab her because in a way it feels like anytime I come close she darts off into the tree line, and the trees are gargantuan. They swallow up all parts of sun, and everything gets dark from there. As though, there is something written somewhere down the spine of a mountain that reads "the sun and the moon shall never share a sky, only a rise and fall." And as blue as that makes us, as cold as these beds of our grow at night, maybe I am the only one who feels this way. Maybe knowing what to say ordinarily, and not knowing what to say when I'm with her is the one thing she can't get over. Maybe it's the fact that I want nothing and everything from her at the same time. Maybe I'm too demanding. An ex called me that once. I long for something perfect and knowing that perfection does not exist, maybe that makes me insane.

Maybe.

But who's to say that reality isn't some form of it's own perfection. That a crack in the cement is actually meant to be there, and if everything is under a higher being's plan, then all of the flaws of man are also "planned". I think that fear hides us from everything extraordinary in this world. But that's never going to be a good enough excuse for me. As hopeless as love can be, as boundless as love is, as a man who thought he understood what his heart is, what his love would mean, I feel displaced in it sometimes. Most times. All the time. I guess it's because I've never been able to experience anything extraordinary, and getting out of your own way, letting go of things you hold onto, and being vulnerable are much harder to do than they are to recognize. At least they are for me.

Series 1 Part 2 Taken from the movie "Silver Lining's Playbook"

Excelsior

(the search..)

by Shon Houston

 

As bold as she is,

as stone as she stares

like no one can move her

like her knees aren't shaking

this very moment,

she's still small somewhere in her mind.

Her eyes are still eager evening waiting

for Christmas mornings. She tells me all the time.

She tells me that I am the first time

her lips have ever trembled.

And that scares the shit out of me.

One day, if she doesn't tremble,

and I notice, then I will have lost her

to a better man.

I would have owed her that much.

A world without us is a Hell

worth her smile. Worth my weight in ash.

I will live there gladly, and remember everything about her.

Everything about the way her body

fell in my body,

nothing more perfect

than her into me with nothing but her soul on

wearing me.

Nothing more perfect than a kiss.

Than a soft ease of our lips,

dancing their last dance til the next time, til the midnight.

Until we wake up

without missing a step.

And as bold as I am,

as stone as I hold her

I wonder...