Written June 1, 2009

Everything in mine has always been mine.
Maybe, Billy Pilgrim, if I were unstuck in time,
accepting would be easier.
Maybe I could say so it goes, and so it would go,
and so it went – and mean it.
But never have I been grabbed by the hand and told,

This is where you are,
This is where you were,
This is where you will be.

The story wasn’t shown to me at the start.
Instead I am stuck on times past and present,
and I am stalled by the free will I’ve always used,
waiting for someone to capture me, too.

Written January 18, 2009

it’s like a different person wrote it all.
what happened to that mind, with all those ideas,
where did it go?
the development’s course has been interrupted
by a love that should have inspired expression,
by a change that should have forced progression.

but now it’s lost,
dead from the stagnant waters of thought,
which once were healthy enough to drink.
now the feeling you can’t even
is a feeling i can’t even fathom anymore.

it's a feeling you can't even

a flutter of wings,
a voice that sings; turnitup
turnitup for me this music
in my mind soso ohso
undefined ~it's like one
BIGsquiggle of emotion,
the first time:
a perfect rhyme --
is an unfamiliar commotion
of melodies; this sensation
elation    heart, vibration
of, scares the hell out of...

an inexplicable face,
an undiscovered grace,
an unexplored place:
that i will gladly,
    gladly embrace.

SPOT! on target mister
we’ve got this!under control
our energy contained in this!
system spontaneous system
releasing this!expression in
these killer jewels per mole
of words a feeling you
can’t even FATHOM unless
you’re one of us\\\\373 kelvins
boil the water but the butterflies
never stop fluttering

a mole of words per hour and
SPOT! x 10 to the 23rd power

the gravity on my shoulders

weighs down like a like a
effing similes more kay gee
than i care to handle can handle
i spiral into freefall torqued or
worked into this position a
responsibility for which i’m not prepared

nine point eight meters per second squared

I can see the future spinning before me,
rushing like a wave in the cosmic
oceans of my imagination, in and out;
in, and out. The dreams steady as tides.

I dream as steady as the tides.

Controlled by the moon, or fate, or God,
or what you will: the flow of my dreams
is faithful and unstoppable, and their count
only surpassed by the infinity of the stars.

Some wish upon the stars, but I, but I --

But I refuse to feel conventional.
My hopes are held upon the scars of my
endeavors, the tears of my triumphs,
and in the hearts of my heroes.

These are the heroes of my life:

The saviors of my soul, who have not only
remolded me, but supported me selflessly.
Oh God the Father and these earthly messiahs
have allowed my spirit to soar, and my dreams

to bloom. Radiating colors through the universe.

[Incomplete, although everyone knows I never finish my works-in-progress.]

I always sensed a fragility
in you, kept secret and under wraps,
as if somehow your masculinity
would be demeaned by
an admission of humanness.

In what you delve personally
is beyond the bounds of what we are,
although I can say truthfully
that I find a friend in you,
and I advise you to consider me, too.

If you ever feel confined
by me, do not let hesitation hinder you,
and please keep in mind
that you will not injure me
by wanting your space.

But do not forget that I am here
for you, an ear or a hand or whatever
it is you need; so listen dear,
my wish is for your stability,
your wholeness despite your delicacy.

Whether or not you will confess
is not my call; I certainly am not in any
position to advise you, much less
tell you what to do. In years you
surpass me, and even more in wisdom.

i know something's wrong,
but my finite mind fails to find
the words to explain the pain.

when you asked what's wrong,
honey,
i don't know was the best i could muster.

but it's manifesting,
a monster so malicious that it
may make a bloody mess.

keep me grounded and my hands
tied behind my back.
you are my army, my angel.

there is an implicit trust between us,
although i'm afraid to tread its track.
one day would you hold my hand?

-- through the terror my dear,
be the lighthouse that brings me in
to dry land.

so when my mouth cannot answer,
i have faith in you my savior,
we will not let him win.

so many years i shun them.
i close my callous heart as
some means of protection,
a shield from caring too much.

it did not occur to me that
this would one day hurt me.
self-alienation seemed logical
until i needed a connection.

for far too long i front this facade,
and those called friends only know this face.
so when i throw this cloak they balk;
i am suddenly too much to handle.

my refined attempt at human relation,
a steady approach to honest and sincerity.
i do not mean to be overbearing but,
i need you to realize this is your role.

the future frightens me.

once everything was certain
and now all things tangible and not are fragile.
what will their conditions be?
I crave stability but it seems out of reach.
my arms just wish to embrace all I love
and hold them dear and near forever.
if someone could somehow reassure me,
then perhaps my qualms would be quashed
about this inevitable aspect of life:

change.

March 22, 2007

Sometimes I need to be reminded what good I am to the world.
You don't know how much this hurts me.
It seems like everyone is cool and collected
while I keep slipping into this abysmal insecurity.

Every year this vacuum pulls me in and slowly sucks my life.
You don't know how much this scares me.
The Christmas joy does not affect me
and I know the draining is soon to come.

I know to combat this I have to confess and address this.
You don't know how much I want to.
Fear transforms and petrifies me,
causing me to further and further delay.

My eyes can't see that you would support me.
You don't know how much I need you.
Let me know that you're available
before I spiral too far with this insanity.

There is every possibility that I will some day lose control.
You don't know how much that scares me.
Please remind me that I am worth something
so I can overcome and breathe confidently once again.

your presence is all i need.
my pain and tears evaporate
just because you're with me.

i know it was a mistake,
and it cost me your arms.
honey, let me do it again.

i admit i wasn't ready.
it's been over a year now,
so can i say i love you?

you mean everything to me.
even if you don't feel the same,
i just want to tell you myself.

It is a reminder that I'm human.

Emotions relay relay agitating my mind,
and I do not want this to be for naught.

I can say with absolute conviction absolutely nothing.
But my heart and my heart alone says I love you,
and I swear to God I believe it.

Four years at love's doorstep have clearly crazed me,
and try as I might with all my might not to get roped in,
Your very presence tugs at these strings.
I am entangled by this dizziness.

Nothing can eradicate these feelings forever, dear.
I can deny and lie to myself but the truth breaks forth.
I cannot help but fall deeper and deeper for you.
And like an artist's acid authors art,
your name is etched upon my heart.

Can you make this good?

I look to you for comfort,
say anything at all to me.
Although I feel intrusive,
I approach you every day.

Do you know the reason?

Whatever the cause I come
is nothing that I will admit.

But can you make this good?
All alone I strive to survive,
and you are all that I have,
the closest I’ve ever come to
confessing to this nonsense.

Tell me would you understand?

This is number one in my silence,
the one I have kept for two years.
Five or more excuses I tell myself
when I consider casting this cover.
Each is as legitimate as the next,
all of which are valid as this mood.

What would you say to me?
I know this makes no sense.
Yet it happens every year,
and I am bereft of control.

Would you be there for me?

One day I need to talk to you,
or to anyone who would listen.
Some days it is so intense and
I know I have to let this out.
I am willing to communicate;
for once, I am volunteering,
and I want to open up to you.

So can you make this good?

If I shared despite my fear
what was so troubling me,
I trust you not to criticize.
I just need somebody here
who would not worsen this.

Someone to make it good.

Denial is your method to deal
when you feel the concern.
Yet every time you try to lie,
I can see the hurt in your eyes.

You are still so young,
yet your eyes so such age.
Can you see what I do
in those limpid pools of blue?

Andy, you're a star.
You have shone through my night
and have lit up my world
with your blazing inspiration.

I have always seen your brilliance,
yet only recently have I realized
your shine's intense magnitude.
The revelation was remarkable.

I pray you will continue to glow,
just as an everlasting reminder
that I deserve to shine, too,
that one day I can be stellar like you.

The days are blurring together,
like my life is God's acrylic palette.
Only you remain in focus,
year after year after year.

One day I almost fainted.
The TV snow turned to black,
and you would have called me Holden
if you caught me holding on.

I kept on my feet, all on my feet,
until finally I admitted weakness.
I accepted their aid;
for once, I actually did.

Bereft of control and I broke.
I need to be bereft of control to break.
And I need to break to be okay,
to be in control again.

I need to stop pretending.
Feigning this facade of fortitude
for a cause in vain.
I don't want this to be in vain.

The third time this happened,
a repetition of depression due to
ten years of deterioration.
Four years of...

I cannot bring up this, any of this.
We promised to forget I love you.
You can forget this, too.
Burden is not my aim.

I need to drop this fear,
erase every excuse I can make.
I will talk to someone.
Someone, someone, anyone.

Just mustering up the courage
is the dilemma, always the dilemma.
But I must try to make it,
for I've put this off far too long.

Three years, I said, I think I said.
You have kept me holding on this long.
Yet a two-man army is not enough
to hold together my sanity.

stress is the trigger,
the unavoidable catalyst.
every year, this time of year,
I fall into the trap.

'tis the season of joy,
and I feel like Charlie Brown.
though I intend to confide in you,
I retract in fear.

it is too much.
too many excuses can I make,
too many promises can I break.
I am afraid.

it is all happening again:
another year of perpetual hurt,
the electric shocks and waterfalls.
I seek some solace.

honey, listen to me.
there is no reason; it just is.
ask Kurt, ask the Tralfamadores.
I can't take this.

has this ever hurt you?
our heartsick alcoholic understood,
but I was just looking for some company.
I need you to relate.

all I ask is patience,
a serene sit-down heart-to-heart,
where I tell you this and you tell me,
I will be all right.

You make sense to me.
You're a mess of emotions,
the king of rough nights,
yet you make sense to me.

It makes you unique.
Twenty-three random lyrics
and a nervous breakdown,
but at least you're unique.

You work in obscurity.
The extent of your greatness
is vastly unknown:
You're a noble obscurity.

Honey, you're all right.
The heartsick alcoholic
is just a fabrication.
I know you'll be all right.

You make sense to me.
Ill logic is no matter
when you make this connection,
because you make sense to me.

December 19, 2006

you are never alone.
so trite an expression,
yet a truth unknown.

somewhere exists a cure.
I would hold you if I knew,
but you rally to obscure.

you cling to isolation;
God's your confidante.
a prayer for salvation.

the chill runs through your bones.
can you count on Him tonight?
please, just find the telephone.

for His sake, communicate.
don't let this spiral too far.
recognize it is not too late.

let your heart beat.
keep living strong and steady;
one more breath, repeat.