...Should've never left you, without a blog post to step to

If I were to itemize and list the reasons as to why I have not posted in over 4 years, it would read like a dissertation on the existence and prevalence of one word whose 5 letters speak with the voice of only 4:  DOUBT.

Thanks for your patience, understanding, and "nudges."  I've returned to write what's left.

shortgoings...

Inasmuch as I try to find my balance
I have teetered and tottered on the verge of promise
Deftly avoiding certainty
And constantly dodging “somewhats” and “maybes”
For it gives pause to the persistence
Of relying on someone who is consistently inconsistent.

Naivete'

I long for a time
When love, in its adolescence,
Allowed one to "crush"
Without breaking...

Sob Story...

I feel more tethered than talented, honestly.
Fear sometimes engulfs me- to the point that
Drowning in sorrow is impossible
For at times it becomes the very air I breathe
So I guess you could say I'm suffocating.

I've spent too much time tracing fine lines, only to find I'm-
Out of it.
Because to be in is to be consciously cognizant
and therefore responsible.
But I'm more comfortable shunning it
Prone to aptly act like I'm running it
When it fact I flee
Jumping out of my shoes
Torn apart; afraid to lose
But I've suffered to the point of selective amnesia
So now I block out the pain
While in fantasy I cling
Injecting myself with ink
making my pen my morphine
Waiting for some semblance of happiness
Exchanging pleasantries with peasants and passersby who swear I-
have got it all together.

I've taken time that wasn't mine
So I guess I'm a thief.
But I was hungry for the space
That would be my relief.
No, I didn't know what it was when I took it
But right now it's of no consequence
Life has disguised it in such a way
That I wouldnt even know the difference.
So I meander in dreams that hover in the thoughts
Of slumbering idealists
Wondering how to proceed
-Struggling to admit that I'm in need
When in fact I dont quite FEEL it
Maybe because I've been cowering for so long
That standing up straight seems crazy
So I only dabble in the permanent ink of certainty
So I wont know the sting when all "hope" is fading
I know my rationale is flawed
I know it makes for fear
But it's no consolation when everybody is there for you
But there's no one quite "here."

Rorschach

There's a breath of foul air that greets me as I say goodbye to the one who has many times acted in reality out of the scope or frame of seconds, minutes, hours or other measurements by which I am faintly familiar and frighteningly foreign. Over this present absence I move closer to the distance, dragging my fingertips through the sand of beach-less deserts and cavernous specks. I sway in the stillness, struggle in the ease of broken easels as masterpieces pave my floors and my ceilings are dotted with canvasses that have never known the stroke of a brush nor been weighed down by the burden of tarnished thought. Such. Is. Light.

Woe

she used to
renew me
now she
leaves me
here
feeling callous
completely empty.

-Woe

Bittersweet Taboo...

In this instance, it's silence which serves as the sound of regret; better it than breathing life into words which one may never forget...

It pains me to feel this way. It's quite unsettling, actually. For fear of divulging what could possibly betray what is in my heart of hearts, permit me to be opaque. It's ironic, I know. I'm at once vulnerable and guarded. It's an offense mechanism, I assure you. -Trust me, if it was the opposite I'd tell you, or rather I'd avoid it totally. One or the other. I digress.

So it follows me. I try to elude it, but everytime I feel it I get derailed. I get picky and easily bothered. I begin to feel forlorn (i love that word) and the strength with which I hold on to its memory is evident in the sunsets of my fists- (its a rather poetic way of saying "the clenching of my palms.") Regret has a funny way of jolting you from the slumber of your safe reality. It is evident in looks, actions, and most dangerously, -in thoughts. I shudder to think of what I thought and how those thoughts affect how I think and in turn how I act as a result. I have elected scapegoats of who I have sacrificed on the altar of "what if's?" and they've unfairly paid the ultimate cost. I take full responsibility for what I've done, and for that I apologize...but it does me no good to be in this predicament and have to suffer at the lashes of piercing eyes. What of my deliverance? Where is my catharsis?

Between the lines of my verbal meanderings, it lies

But oh how it both tempts and tortures.

Epiphany #1

People go from upset to hopeful in the pursuit of the ever-eluding
point of happiness, sacrificing good judgement along the way.

It is my belief that good judgement is a staple in happiness, bad judgement seems to be one of the casualties of love.

Risen Upon Deaf Ears...

The words 'I Love You' lumbered
uninspiringly across her lips in my direction
but perished in the leap to my lobes;
sending me reeling, sans feeling
...as they lay dashed across the cold floor.

Equine Dream

I'm unbridled; trying to rein in the words, but there's a bit in my mouth that keeps me tame.

Molting

there's something within me that is begging to come out-
its clawing, scratching and building within me. i dont know if i am ignoring it out of fear or out of knowledge. maybe i know what it could mean. maybe this time i have thought so far out of the box that my mind has taken the shape of doubt. curious as it may be, i have censored myself for too long. the smile that you see me wear is clothing; soiled, i assure you. my emotions need a good scrub. my destiny needs a bit attention in the area of...well...everything. i feel like Jonah, quite frankly, -except that I am running away from something that I am not quite sure I am SUPPOSED to be doing, - I'm merely straying from a viable option.
my comfort zone is layered with the softest material you could imagine. the boundaries are clear and defined, and the border is riddled with defenses that keep both me in and anything that doesnt meet my specifications -out. i'm digging a hole in one of the walls unbeknownst to... me; getting my "Andy Dufresne" on, so to speak. i am fearfully and wonderfully made, so i am fearfully and wonderfully, -albeit slowly, making my way forward. there's no turning back now, i know...but can i look without turning into salt? I sure hope so.

Profundity: 1st Attempt

What more is love, then?
Than an audition for a place in the heart
Where life competes for the starring role
-But more often than not, "the die is cast..."

The Unraveling of Carelessly Laid Out Plans

I searched for sincerity in her eyes

while she looked for success in mine

In our continuum we gave up space

When we should have taken our time

so "happily ever after" seems more like

the stuff of lore

We remained mute after the fact

Instead of voicing our opinions, before.

Happy Birthday?

I have no words for her beyond that which is cliche',
So silence is what she'll hear from me
-lest I find another way.

To Whom It Does Concern:

I think that love is conceived in the moment that you care more about protecting someone than protecting yourself from them. True story.

The Thrill of the Chase, Pt. 1

Below lies my response to a question posed on an email discussion group about the way we respectively feel about the whole "thrill of the chase" phenomena.

The thrill of the chase exists because of the attractiveness of the forbidden fruit. The more mysterious it is, the more curious we are. When someone is seemingly unaffected by our charms or presents a challenge more or less we find that attractive because there is a high in proving yourself to be the best/worthy, especially when your pride is involved. The mirage, in its fleeting glory carries more value in the area of fulfillment than the realization of a butterfly that lands in your hand, sans the pursuit. The appeal lies in the reach, not the receipt.

Japanese Sneeze #1

fleeting feelings send
me reeling, dealing with hearts
hoping for healing.

The Moral to the Story Is...

she thought she could love him
and life could go on
-but she couldn't do both-
words became fugitives in her heart
but were caught in her throat
-escorted back to where they belong
Because she's been waiting so long
that longing becomes her substitute for love

she confuses hope with dedication
and searches for compassion in his passion
but all she finds is
his corralled kisses, arranged in their pecking order

she seeks to siphon affection
but he's rationed misdirection
her heart is an open wound
-vulnerable to infection

and she doesn't see her destiny unfold
-that she's bound to spin out of control
unless she regains her pride
and realizes that he doesn't validate her

she's queasy inside;
she ashamed of the fact that
she lets him in so easily inside
she's trying to wean away
so she takes it in stride
in her journal and tissues
does she confide

swears him off
"for the last and final time!" she screams
but in reality her closure wouldn't be what it seems
she tried to act indifferent
but he knew they were scenes
he bided his time,
until she was about to burst at the seams
then he struck her with the "don't you miss me?" line
and she found her feelings stuck in rewind
she thought that she'd be able to resist his ways
but she would choose a known devil
over a foreign angel
because she preferred familiar frays

so the man who would complete her
was left out in the cold
he tried to embrace her
but she was under someone else's hold
so he became frustrated
and wondered why this was happening to him
he feared that she would leave
if he went out on a limb
"but she's not here to begin with,"
he reasoned in his mind
"she'd rather he make her his fool,
than for me to make her mine."
so he gave up and walked his own path
to embrace his destiny
while she gave up her chance at true love
for a lover who embraced apathy
actually

they began to fuss and fight
she spent days looking in his face
hoping to see Mr. Right
'til the day he hit her and she left
and after time passed

she wondered if he even missed her right
because in hindsight, now that she thought about it

- he never quite kissed her right-
something was there all along;

lying just beneath the surface:
she had made the mistake of burying her love
before making sure that

she could unearth HIS.

Dearly Departed

i bared my soul to you

and placed my heart at your feet

-but i mistakenly choked on my fists

as i swallowed my pride,

so i threw up my hands in defeat.

Love at Length: A Take on Long Distance Relationships

Long distance relationships are a beautifully idealistic phenomena. they can be maintained, (as i agree with everyone else) as long as both parties are on one accord. The advantage that you have when your relationship BECOMES long distance, is that you were blessed with the time to work on the foundation of your relationship face to face. You have a much greater chance of success if your relationship is based on mutual respect and love, -something that you cultivate in a controlled environment, i.e., each others' presence. The only variables in a relationship are the humans. Everything else is background noise. If you focus on your mate and they on you, then you'll be fine, -as long as you're determined to make things work.

BEFORE all else fails, pray about it.

It is very hard if you are touchy-feely and your longing for companionship becomes stronger than your desire for that other person. Thats when the breakdowns occur, where the idea of cheating enters your mind, and where your frustration about the situation rears its head. This can then be passed along in conversation, -where the phone calls happen less frequently and the "I miss you's" are few and far between. Then doubt enters your mind and you begin to wonder if they might be feeling someone else because it would make it easier to depart if its not your fault. Your mind can do some pretty amazing things, including self-sabotage. As long as your significant other remains on the horizon of determination, then the distractions of possibilities elsewhere and the strain of keeping things together will be dramatically reduced/done away with altogether.

My two sense.