jumping on the dating train again (okay I never really was ever on it lessbehonest) and it has been a RIDE.

Night shift poetry for your enjoyment:

 

 

exquisitely strange
the way the tide cycles our stars proximate
aeonic, perpetual

this intimacy is blessed,
sacred and agonizing.

I die daily for fate,
close enough if it’s
close enough to break me

sacrifice the future
on the bloodbright altar of the
here and now

hold you through all four horsemen

as the asteroid hits
when the ocean rises to bury us
while the long curve of radioactive fallout

shipwrecks our descendants wakeful

 

 

sn

I want to give you everything you need or even
want

Take it all, suits you well.

heart worship
eyes open wide soak you in,
sunflower to the light

think I’ve been living in a cave till I met you

campfire sparks rise starward
Don’t even need to look up when

you’re the entire sky.

_________________________________

This is cheesy and stupid but that’s how I feel right now.

Feels like I’m falling but I know the entire universe is my safety net (or anyways, of late, that’s what the dreams imply).

 

i just wanna spend my life with you

Was to be married this year, but he’s marrying someone else and I finally got to the point where I’m really, really cool with it, and happy being single.

Annnnnnd then I met someone..

homeboy is…bruh, it’s like a DREAM over here, I am so so so into him.  First date lasted 8 hours, the conversation just flowed.  He’s so funny.  I’ve never been with anyone who had a good sense of humor, EVER.    I’ve never been with someone who takes care of themselves, he is so healthy, it’s so attractive.  He is SUCH A NICE, HONEST, PERSON.  I can tell when he’s talking he doesn’t think before he talks,  like he doesn’t censor what he thinks and it’s so nice and so relaxing.  Things are moving at exactly the right pace.  We’re joking that tinder should use our dates for it’s advertisements, things are so good.

I realize now I have been settling for less in a big way.  Godddd I hope this works out…

 

I can’t believe this is real life.  Got me all suspicious, but there aren’t any red flags, it’s all green as far as I can see…

 

 

..

Haven’t written or posted becaaaaaaaaaause.  The six month abyss ate me and I’ve been hibernating in all that deep sad.

But I’m back because the abyss has spat me out (unexpectedly and with the help of a very gorgeous man that I met in Berlin who was good for my self esteem.)

Also to post this song that has my head all behind bars.

I know where my brain would take me if I let it.  Not exactly like I’m afraid (why fear the opposite of death… but)
waking up with wings instead of shoulder blades somehow always just leads to a bloody

back.  Claw marks voluntary,
I went to the priest myself, drug(ged) flightless by a syringe
instead of a crucifix.  This cycle is too

familiar.  Stretched out
death, hard to find a horizon that far away.  Like I said,
Bloody.  Back.

Fear/Hope they won’t grow back (future tense)
Could close the door on that universe forever.

time bomb hourglass sand, stupid to not know what’s
inevitable.

Can’t tell which half is the dream.

I’m climbing a staircase.
I know where it leads.

bp

it’s the jagged edge of reality
some kind of
awestruck depth

Dead. Set.

claw myself all the way to the bottom,
lacerate the sky-crust in freefall

(don’t know if I choose or am
chosen,
destiny,

matrilineal curse)

thought about seeing an exorcist.
rid myself of this too-bright scorch-earth headplace

…(I’m addicted to being reborn
rediscovering the day after wingless, stupid night.

I miss my light-blinded airplane. don’t want to self-destruct but

something keeps begging my brain to
jam itself straight into the sun

Flay this universe right off my bones.

Crash Glorious till I finally

break

through.

Apocalyptica

staring down the sharp edge of an eclipse
eyes wide and waiting
veins begging for full-dark taste

Revolution is bloody, chaotic, visceral
survival snaps to the foreground

New world texture is more teeth than blanket

brain and body soft but getting less so

mind unfaded, purpose a fistful of
serration

Run like you mean it.

Spill blood like it’s instinct.

Nothing left to
fake.

A Poem for Overthrowing the Bourgeoisie. 

 

 

I’m reading Nightfall by Isaac Asimov and Robert Silverberg, hence the poem.  Riding out some slow-waved depression.  It comes and goes.  Sometimes I wake up and I feel okay.  Last night I didn’t even sleep at all.  Halfway through a 16 hour shift.  Didn’t know I could even do that on no sleep. Hm.

Lower myself into this bed like a coffin, don’t wanna come up for air until I’m resurrected.  Wish I could burn this whole universe to the ground.

I lived in a universe where everything made sense.  Where everything was right.  Turn a corner and I’m flung into this… this plague of apathy, despondency, futility.

Wish I could just stay in that universe.  It’s a good one.  Can’t hold down a job there but it matters zero to me.

All this shit that doesn’t matter.  I’m just a fancy ape working 16 hour shifts.

How does that make any sense at all?

I keep having to rebuild my life.

Stack my tower all the way to heaven, stare God in the face until Crash Glorious.

 

#dailyheretic

I saw also that there was an ocean of darkness and death, but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness.

-George Fox

The song isn’t heretical, although I haven’t done an in-depth analysis.  George Fox founded the Quakers.  I went to my first Quaker meeting tonight.  I love it.  It’s everything I believe about how to get a direct line to Spirit through meditation.

Love love love.

I’m going to take you to where the sky falls, where the stars bite cold, where the ocean tastes the shore, leaves, and then comes back for more.  Our bodies were made for dancing, like your hand was made to trace shivers into my spine, begging the feathers to grow. Flight pulls us toward the moon, like the tides, all silver, filling the sky.

I want to be there when you realize what joy is.  When you fall bone-struck into the wild hymn the wind has been trying to whisper to you since you clawed your way from the womb.  Your wounds are deepest harmonies you forgot about. Eyes wide open. Hands empty.

Chords igniting in your veins.