Re:Verse Verse

I am a little free. I am a little better. another knows, another accepts, was not taken by surprise or disgusted by my outgushings, which is not a word but should be and anyway does not matter. I am still lost, but now he knows it and just that, despite him not being able to do anything about it, nothing but hollow advice for him to give, allows me to carry on. A problem shared, a problem halved. I faced the core of my spirit this weekend. I pushed my sense of self and purpose and endurance and courage and strength and love and hatred and companionship and competivity. with the music driving and the blood pumping and feet aching. but still only fourth. What a fuck up. I’ll be back next year. It will happen one year. And I will be immortal, forever will people glance past my name and assume things about me, but that form of anonymity will be a thousand times greater than any other. Of course, its not the first thng i wish for. but its up there.

Pondered God today. He’s still there, like an old friend i’ve been through a lot with and haven’t spoken to in a while. which is weird because I’ve spoken to him a lot lately. Maybe I’ve never broken through properly. I am what i believe but maybe I’ve been busy too long and lost some connecting factor. When was the last time I heard it from another? It seems so alien, so wrong, as though this religion were for me and no other. Maybe thats how its supposed to feel.

11:20. The clocks never lie but they always seem to take sides. Its all coming out now, i can’t stop their names ringing through my head, the muic strikes a different chord to that intended. There’s no one to tell, no one to consult. They’re all gone and I am only left with her, and we are left with nothing. The plans have changed and I can’t complete them, no one compensatedfor my head. She cant and wont and will never but that doesnt stop me. And the lyrics are true “controlling my feelings for too long and pushing me into self destruction”. She is so beautiful, but i can’t let her know, that goes agianst the rest of them, goes against her, that bitch, that stupid cow, that innocent girl who does not deserve a drop of this poison she has brewed unknowingly in my heart, with an unclenched palm and her curls of hair. Let me drown in her eyes, at least then death will be comfotable, not this melancholy ache that just tugs at my chest at her name. 11:30.

Sam Cooke sings about kings in the background and I raise my leg over my head, foot flexed, hips into the mat.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Now Aretha softly sings about bridges over troubled water, and I stretch my spine as long as possible, release my hips into the mat.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Otis Redding draws back his bow and lets Cupid’s arrow go straight to my lover’s heart, and I root my feet firmly in the mat, let my hips rise and my spine lengthen.

Breathe in, breathe out.

First Marvin Gaye and then Al Green croon to the air around me, and still I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. I am surrounded by peace and cannot shake this contentedness. That resting smile that was so natural when I was ten sits on my lips again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Light envelops me,

blankets wrapped with sun and dreams 

early in the day.

Soft breeze gives way to

sublime skies on grey canvas:

all clouds and no rain.

The world passes by,

colorful cars in between:

a restful silence.

We paint a picture

with turtles, birds and a home,

our favourite things.

Dark sky barely lit,

smell of the bay and cologne:

shower of rain drops.

Shadows shroud me

I slide into stars and dreams

until daylight breaks.

This is the warm-up. The rehearsal. Because sooner or later this is all going to come spewing out and my cocoon of deceit will unravel. I haven’t lied as such. I am not truthful, not true to myself, to my feelings, but i haven’t lied to anyone. No one asks, they take it for granted, they assume because of who I am and what they think it means. What they want her to mean to me.

In september I spent two days camping with a group of people, some i knew, some I didnt. Amongst these people were two girls. The first seemed to like me a lot, the second teetered on the edge of flirting a couple of times in my memory, but maybe thats just how i thought of it. And because of this imbalance this slight preference, i leaned towards the first girl. Because I had more chance, because I wanted to be with a girl - I have had no girlfriend before her. (I am still young im not just lonely) Somewhere in my consciousness i knew that the second girl was my girl really, that she was beautiful, and perfect and right for me. I remember daydreaming about it on the coach back, imagining her dancing was the main part.

But then she talked to me. The first girl. We arrived home and began chatting on facebook. And i was excited by it. I buried my doubts my true feelings deep down, settling for a good time rather than waiting for the perfect time.

This carried on for a long time, perhaps longer than it should have, as we continued to talk in this disconnected way, unsure of the other. When we met again, another four months later she seemed so into me that i was confident enough to ask her out. But other arrangements and uncertainty meant that we never went out until April, and from then not again until June

Something had reawoken inside me. Throughout March and into April I realised that I still loved, and I know that that is a scary word to use but really loved the second girl. I found her so amazingly beautiful in body and mind and heart, that it was impossible to imagine anything else. I made her my goal, I was not sure how it would happen but I needed to make it happen. You have to understand how deep these feelings are and that I understand that you might think me naive or inexperienced but i have taken these things into account.

Throughout all this, interest in my relationship with the first girl grew. People wanted us to make things happen quicker, they thought it was because i was afraid, because i was shy. If they knew, if they could guess on my true feelings for her, would they peer on us with smiling faces like we were puppies in a basket?

And then came Glastonbury. I had planned it as my chance, as my way in. 5 days with both girls. there had to be a way to end one and start another in that time surely? I dreamed of the euphoric haze, one to make everything easier, to break down the boundaries between me and the second girl. I knew there would be time for us, time away from the first girl as to cap it all off, my music tastes were the same as the second girl’s. But it never came. The moment never came. I felt like screaming, yelling, each time I walked next to her, each time I took her hand in the surging crowds.

There was so much pressure you see; everyone knew, there must have been twenty of us, all the rest of them eager to see me get off with the first girl. There was no incentive for me, no driving love, none of the tense excitement everyone else seemed to revel in. They all expected it, every move was scrutinised and analysed by the pitch side commentators. None of them knew, none of them would have thought to guess at what I really felt, who I felt it for.

So the pressure was too much. I folded. I stood for a whole set, with my arm around the girl I did not want, longing for another. I thought I would give her would last taste of it before I took myself away from her. Or is that just too conceited? I told myself that I would break up with her straight after that, I would come clean and tell it like it was.

But here I am, one week later and nothing has changed. I have told no one. No one knows.

I dreamt that we painted Paris blue. Twice, actually, since the first time didn’t stick. No, I’m not sure what it means, either, but I know that it was lovely. Everything was a gorgeous shade of cerulean, and we held hands the whole way.

We skipped past the Louvre and paused underneath the Arc de Triomphe only long enough to look up in some wonder and catch our breath. Then we were off again, blurring past the Parisiennes making tea in their city flats, and giggling at the brazen lovers on park benches whose bodies were entangled like lock and key. We tried it, of course, indulging our inner exhibitionists with a few quick smooches before finally letting the world fall away and giving in to a deeper one, our hands holding each other close and betraying the heightened state we were really in. Then I came crashing back to the ground, blushing, still surrounded by midnight and the twinking lights of Le Tower Eiffel in my dream, the city around us a blue counterpoint to my pink cheeks.

I don’t know what it means, but it sure was nice.

5 minutes on the timer. I have decided to give it a shot. I’ve been meaning to write for so long, but I’ve been putting it off. It’s like I’m afraid of it, afraid of what will come out, and maybe also afraid of what will change.

I’d like to do free writes to change my life. It has remained static too long. I can’t live here… in this space. I can’t live elsewhere. I do not wish for death. I do not wish for life. I remain stagnant.

Recently read that motivation follows action. Time to stop looking- Nevermind…

Well, this is my action for the time being, and it is a start. Now I just have to keep going, but I must do more than survive. Surviving is something I’ve become adept at. Now if only I could learn to thrive.

I want to want something. I don’t know what it is that I want other than this- to want something.

How do I find what I want? Looking hasn’t helped. Not looking has been worse. To pour my soul out here

(and the timer rings)

It was an uneventful Sunday morning until the police arrived at the door to tell me that my dear Aunt had been in a terrible accident.

It all began earlier that day when I laid on the living room couch. Her early activities had woke me from my light sleep, so I laid there hoping to continue my dream. As I laid on my side with my eyes half open, I noticed her grabbing her keys to leave the apartment. That was the last time I would ever see her alive.

 I blame myself for the accident. Maybe things would’ve been different if I got up and left along with her. Maybe she would still be with us today. I wonder.

I would often make wagers with God, asking that he spares her life in exchange for mine. Unfortunately, he is not much of a talker.

She was like a mother to me. When I was down on my last dollar and out in the freezing cold, nobody made space for me but her. She was a kind human breed, a rare breed. She didn’t deserve to die like that.

So I sat on the end of my bed many nights, and I’ve come to accept how it all happened. I just wish we had a minute. I would tell her… I don’t know.

I never knew what I would say, I just needed that minute with her.

Then I woke up one morning in the fashion as I did on that uneventful Sunday morning. I slowly opened my eyes to see her walking from room to room, searching for the house keys and discount cards.

I sat up on the couch and watched as her movement seemed exactly as it was that morning past. I was so scared to interfere.

She grabbed her keys from the book case and stopped to notice me in my awakened state.

“You’re up early.” she said in a lively tone.

I swallowed a heavy amount of saliva and gathered my thoughts before my response.

“So are you,” I responded before freezing up and becoming a shivering mess. I now knew that this was the minute that I longed for. I finally had an opportunity to speak with my aunt, and this would be the last time.

“Aunt Pam,” I called to her with tears quickly developing on top of my eyelids.

She turned to look at me while putting her coat on. I had one minute to thank her for every hot meal, birthday gift, money loan, piece of clothing and safety that she given to me the past twenty-six years. And with only sixteen seconds remaining, all that I could say was…

“I got you right here.” pointing at my chest where my heart was rapidly beating.

She chuckled, thinking that I had yet to fully wake from my sleep.

“Okay, Bacon.” she replied before laughing. She always called me by my last name.

My body was uncontrollably laid out onto the couch. I knew then that my time had expired, and the inevitable had to become. As i fell into a sleeping state, my eyelids slowly closed to trap my tears.

And when the kid said lets go everyone will listen to him.

     What is time but a way to get away from the way of life? There is no past present or future is there not? Past becomes present and future stays with Rafiki. (it means friend in Swahili)

     I have no idea why grendel decides to go bats*** insane in the middle of the book, it makes it unpleasing to read.

     Goodbye and one more thing: Me gusta 

It is hard for one to say: “I am clever” without sounding immodest, rude, conceited and pretentious. How can you express the fact that you feel you possess a greater understanding of the world than others around you? Understanding of understanding. That’s what it is. And computing with each millisecond a hundred emotions and outcomes, events and references, and their repetition over and over and acknowledging the repetition and hearing and knowing and thinking. Seeing, and seeing imperfections in the sight, and watching yourself hear your thoughts that you know you do not know and cannot know and will not know and shall not want to know but still actually, inevitably, horribly, beautifully, simply will. And jumping the gap and why can’t the monkey be quiet? And yet it will and I shall miss it. It will haunt me that I wished for it to go, the guilt to denial, and the denial to doubt, to misinterpreted revelation, to wakefulness, to forgiveness, to strength, to mistakes, to failure. To long and flexible torment that twists its way through it all. Its absence uplifts me; I see my pride and rejoice for what I am and what I am not. Without this there is no hope. Without this I begin to ask the questions that extinguish the hope and squeeze out my abilities while mocking them. I surrender and yet do not, able to think one and feel another. And do another. But that is it and that is all I ever will be unless that is not all and there is something other. And in which case how? For what is this thing that I am and is it really me and where am I? What am I? And who will I be and what can I be and is this true?