11/5/2023

My work day ended hours ago. Everything feels robotic. Rehearsed. When I arrive home, I immediately get undressed and pace around. I attempt to parent myself. To parent the self-destructive parts of me that are about to go off. I move with urgency. “What do you need right now?” I find myself under the sun. The heat stings my skin a little but I enjoy it. I hope it sets fire to my skin. Maybe that will make it stop. I’m in and out. I become aware of lost time but don’t know what I’ve done with it.

The dam holds back what I can’t disconnect from. Regardless, the tears flow. I move in silence. I begin cooking dinner, only surrounding myself with the sound of rice boiling and tofu searing on the pan. I finish and realize I’m not hungry. I pace around, change, and head out the door. Each step feels like a ripple of vibrations entering the earth. I can almost hear it. Upon my return I attempt to eat but abandon the plate a few bites in. I sat on my couch listening to nothing but the city. The sounds of cars pushing through air travels up the sides of the building. I hear the wheel of a bike rumble as gears change. You can hear the distance echoes of honking and sirens. The slamming of car doors and voices reach my ears.

“Paint”, I command. I don’t move. “Write”, frozen.

I don’t bother lying to myself by grabbing a glass. From my balcony, I watch the evening crows soar. I’m envious of their lightness. I’m stalling. The cells in my body are finally settling down. I notice the headache and jaw pain.

It’s sweet. Like dark, ripe fruit. There is an earthy taste, like wet wood. It’s not dry but there’s a smoke, dry taste to it. My mouth fills with saliva and the sweetness quickly fades. It’s sweeter than I anticipated. Bitter but sweet. Like dark cherry, raspberry, or maybe even blue berry. I like flavors like this. Like wet dirt and moist wood. I check my guesses before deciding, “ok, now”

Half way in the dam breaks.

He noticed the leaves yellowing. Unsure if he was loving it to much or not enough. “I remember you telling me it doesn’t need much water”. He sets it free outside hoping the sun will care for it. He finds it knocked over, “It may be dead”. He scoops ups the remains and contains them in a plastic bag.

The image of this sticks with me. Despite transparency, not everyone will understand how to care for this plant. He didn’t know how to love it so he set it free. Only to regret it resulting in it’s death. The end of something. The death of us.

“I've got no place

Buildin' you a rocket up to outer space

I watch you fade

Keeping the lights on in this forsaken place

Little star

Feels like you fell right on my head

Gave you away to the wind

I hope it was worth it in the end

You and my guitar

I think you may be my only friend

I’d gave it all to see you shine again

I hope it was worth it in the end

Us against the world

Just a couple sinner's makin' fun of hell

If I keep you here

I'll only be doing this for myself

Little star

Feels like you fell right on my head

Gave you away to the wind

I hope it was worth it in the end

Yеah, I hope so

Think you may be my only friend

I gavе it all to see you shine again

I hope it was worth it in the end

I know this thing is broken

So I leave my door wide open

Been some time since we've spoken

One day we'll meet again

Some distance when you're older

You'll come lean on my shoulder

Tell me that storm is over

That day we meet again

Feels like you fell right on my head

Gave you away to the wind

I hope it was worth it in the end

You and my guitar

I think you may be my only friend

I gave you away (Mh-mhhm-hmm)

I hope it was worth it in the end”

“I’m sorry”

The silence is gone

I’ve spent 9 months containing the anguish

I can no longer hear the city, only myself

I’ve let the real artists and poets of this world speak

I left it up to them to describe the horrors of ruins left from love

So much of it resonates

Yet so much of it only scratches the surface

I wish I could say this was my first understanding of it

The despair resulting from love

Loving anything comes with grief

I desire to love your mess

But no one ever believes me

How could you, when you can’t hear me?

Just like her, he couldn’t love himself enough to make it to me

Maybe it isn’t that

I’m growing to love myself

Yet, I can meet you in any dark alley

I don’t have the right words or actions to cure your pain

Nor do I intend to

But, I can meet you

I show up at every train station and terminal

At each baggage claim, ready

I watch others grab their baggage

Connect with those who see them

I wait until the carousel stops

There is nothing to wait for…

Just like her, he tells me his actions don’t reflect his desires

Yet, I’m standing in a terminal ready with my carefully sorted through baggage

Waiting for yours

You never make it to the airport

I don’t even think you’ve packed a bag

Once again, I exit the terminal

Attempting to maintain my posture

I distance myself

Refusing to let you or anyone else know how destroyed I feel

I launch my baggage into the trunk

Start the car

And leave

I try to make sense of the reasons they give me

How could something expressed so positively be the downfall?

How could you see greatness in me and yet want nothing to do with it?

He sees me going to outer space

Builds the rocket

But doesn’t think to join me?

None of it makes sense

Why am I so hard to love?