Shooting stars behind the clouds

It's finally August and we can finally get away from the July slump that took so much out of us! August brings new challenges, new plans, new things that we have to do in order to be orderly. And so on, and so on. But, at the end of it all, we still may not be satisfied. It's a weird perpetual cycle that we as humans go around for the majority of our lives. I like to call it wishing on a shooting star that's behind the clouds. We may see a flash or two of the star and our wish might work, but when we see the next shooting star, we'll always have another wish lined up and so on and so on. Anyway. This next very short piece has a bit to do with that idea. I hope you enjoy it though.

Letter Writing Lessons

I wrote you a letter once. You must not have got it, or I must not have sent it. Doesn't matter anyway, we don't talk much anymore and that's fine by me. I have enough voices in my head to keep me conversaturated 24/7. They know me better than you ever did, or ever will. But, I know they aren't real. Just figments of my overactive imagination. You know, that place where everything makes sense. I doubt you'd know about it. We stopped making sense some time ago. I wish they were real though, so I wouldn't have to shut my eyes to block out the bull. I wished so many times on every falling star that they would be real. I know it isn't going to happen, but, what is life without hope? I could explain to you in 10 000 words and photographs, but I doubt you'd pay much attention. You rarely do. You see the surface, but deep down, there's a whole team of sadness anchoring this iceberg to the floor. It's cold, and heavy and hard to keep in place, but at the same time, it's a crutch that keeps me balanced and able to walk into anything. I'm sure you've noticed it. The way I look into the absent minded space between here and there. There's always a memory in that place that brings back some kind of feeling. And there's always a reminder when I catch myself that I'm supposed to be elsewhere. And then I come back. And I end up doing something stupid, like writing you a letter I know one way or another, you'll never get to read. It's how I stay connected to my emotions. I put them down on an arbitrary piece of paper and put them away, never to be seen by anyone else. Sometimes though, I'll let you see what I've written, just to show you how far away from what I want to be I am. Just to show you I do feel pain and loneliness. Just to tell you that I wish you were listening.

One More For July

So I've decided that I'll publish two pieces this month. Firstly, because I've really been slacking and secondly because I have some things that needed time to make sense to me before I try put them down. July... Wow... July has been a rollercoaster so far, and I don't know how I've almost made it off without shitting my pants, but here I am. Not much else to say, really. I just hope I can get to sleep after this...

We Ran

We ran. Hand in hand to the end of the stars. Blind deaf and dumb to everything, eyes bright and hearts open. We ran, never turning away from what lay before us, galaxies in our eyes, mouths open, sucking in the starlight. We ran hard, we ran far, barefoot moonwalking. Hope hopping, heart pounding, toothless smile, swallowing up the mortals' universe. Taking in everything. Feeling with numb pores and false extremities. We ran. We ran so far we forgot where we started, Caroline. We ran so hard we forgot about time. Our time. We put our fate in time's hands and we got the starry eyed love we wanted. The yellow dress, blue shorts, white t-shirt love that we dreamed about together by ourselves. And we never wanted the dream to fade so, we ran, Caroline. We signed the deed without a thought. Hollow framed, skin and bones us. You held my hand and we jumped from the precipice of reality. Our past leaving, seeping through our pores. We might have stopped at the bottom when we caught our balance, but, we couldn't. Your hand felt so perfect in mine, and we ran. Away from the blurry mess behind us. The stars lay before us, and we didn't stop. We ran. Into space, our own reality of stars and planets and galaxies that were smaller. Smaller than you and I. We were bigger than the universe, bigger than everything. But then time, Caroline. We went so far we ended up at the beginning of the end. And we had to let go. We had to part ways. I'm sorry I'm only writing you now. You mean the world to me but, I felt the way we left it was for the best. Still starry eyed, still hearts pounding, mouths gaping galaxies, blind deaf and dumb to the world. Your yellow dress turned to black and gold as you turned away from me for the last time. A tear of moonlight ran down my cheek as I reminded myself that I loved you, and turned my back to go my own way as well.

Running and Hiding

So I've been very quiet of late. Things haven't been quite as good as I had hoped/planned, so I decided to postpone my writings for this month. That doesn't mean you won't get anything. Oh no no no, I have archives upon archives to give you people. Only bit by bit though, because some of the wounds that bled some of these poems are still quite raw and quite painful. So I'll share some of the more easy to handle ones. Also, my sincerest apologies to everyone who has tried to contact me/message me/all the communication me. I've kinda cut myself off from the outside world (whatever isn't my immediate surroundings) for a few weeks. Hopefully by mid July I'll be back on top of my game and focusing, but yeah. The piece that I'll be sharing today is one that is very close to my heart. I wrote it in 2014 when my significant other at that time and I went our separate ways. The rest is pretty self explanatory, but as I'm sure you're well aware, much of my poetry exists in a sort of parallel space (almost like my imagination, but cooler) and so the images and such are far from literal, but they are just fine all the same. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I Don't Want To Remember

Stained blood red pieces of my soul left off the floor. The grass outside tickles my toes. My mind hurts from the outside in, my insides trying to get out, I... Send them the wrong way... Into the blood and emptiness that took so much away from me. It's hard to see, but soft to feel, the warm wet slippery remains of what was and shouldn't have been. Strands of my hair stuck between her teeth as she moves from between my legs. I have no regrets, but I loathe the pain that takes its place. Sip sip swallow. Make me come, beat my heart like a drum and break it. It's not that hard to fake it, I am, will, won't, be satisfied by my drunk pride or... Just drunk. Falling over, heading over, head over heels and... Its over. I didn't want it to end, but now I don't want to remember my member in her(breathe). I pulled off and tied up that soggy pup and sent it to the trash. I don't want to remember. I don't want to remember. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't face the truth that was Ruth... No... What was her name again? I don't want to remember... I'd run away if I could but I'd want to come back. I mean return, of course. The intercourse was... not that great, on to dessert full of hurt and shut the fuck up you fuck up or I'll fuck you up the ass with this tall glass of whatever I want you to drink today because tomorrow, I don't want to remember. But im stuck in this loop of blood bean soup and vaginal goop. It left a weird smell on me that I can't seem to shake off. I shake off the excess; shake off the post-sex. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, just a long day" I don't know what to say. Its murderous this, bliss that I'll always never miss. And, I don't want to remember. I would look her in the eye, but I've seen deeper into her and the surface is different. I can't put my finger on it but... Shit, too late...

Parental Guidance is Advised

After much consideration, I've decided to cut the bull and kick my writing into high gear. I've had a bit of a block for the kast two months, and it recently dawned upon me that maybe I'm trying too hard to get the words right. Theoretically they ahould just flow out, right? Well... That's where things get a little dizzy. See, I find value in vulgar language. It makes writing and understanding how people feel a lot easier and it also manages to pack quite a punch when it comes to imagery. I have included some vulgar language in my writings but not nearly enough to fully depict what the state of my mind was at the time of inception. This being said, it isn't a deliverate practice that I am looking to engage in, it's something that I'm more likely to throw in for added effect without fear or inhibition. I've been trying to keep my work quiet, laid back and non-aggresive, but really that isn't as accurate a representation as I would like. The real stories that I want to tell are dark and with a few curses here and there, they seem to allow things to fall into place quite nicely. With that being said, I feel like my block will unblock itself with time and with determination, introspection and some solid hours putting pen to paper (or typing, really). Like most ideas though, this one didn't come from nowhere. I recently reread a poem I wrote at the end of 2013 (i think) and I recognised a part of me that had been hidden since then. As a thank you to my vulgar self three years ago, I'll let you guys read that poem now. Enjoy!