I don’t feel the taste of salt on my lip.
Instead I am clean and polished
when I want to feel rough and covered
in dirt I have to shovel through
in order to birth something
that embraces the unfavorable.
I am flat against the wall
I am so still that sediment freely gliding in the air
traces my body and draws my outline on the cold rock
that joins itself at four points
to make a box
that I find myself spending too much time in
So then I am rough and covered.
But it is because of my idleness
I want to move, run
Catching dirt with my distance.
stifles progressive creation
and sucks me dry.
I am bone and paper.
I’ve lost my skin.
A tide of brackish water doubles up,
pushing towards the shore
filling the hole I claimed as habitat.
Where I disappeared.
All my baggage that lain on crushed salt and sand is gone.
I revisit my location
and do not recognize it.
I walk past, trying to find where it is
and where I am.
There is nothing worse than the derailment that can proceed a burst of inspiration. It is something close to dehumanization.
I can glide my fingers over letters and knit a moment into a block of words but at this time, I have lost it.
It’s so simple
to listen to the words in your brain and do what is required to make those words permanent.
It should be so effortless, rewarding, and sublime.
If one sits too long in their chair, they become that chair. They won’t move. They’re just a fixture.
The time spent sitting will take twice as long when the subject yearns to become human again. After being still for so long, the simple act of moving fingers requires the energy to commit, the energy to evaluate, and the energy to keep consistent all while carrying the weight that composes the body. This momentum bleeds out when the subject is at rest because the energy is not being used. It will find a more reliable parent to host its power.
We are heavy
with thoughts and ‘what-ifs’ and personally-made imaginary movies that screen in our heads when we are sitting comfortably.
We watch movies when we are comfortable. We will watch the projected life we want to fulfill and do it for too long because naturally, the pain and discomfort of our personal criticism can be filtered, cut out, so that we feel confident and unafflicted. Disturbance is not welcomed as something to dwell in because it brings out insecurity, which erodes the shell of a self-constructed high social status and elicits paranoia.
I enjoy pain
but I can’t enjoy being discontent with the picture I see. Immediate displeasure causes me to think and challenge the events that caused the feeling. I can be upset that I spilled a mug of coffee on a table but that table could be the place I sit at for too long, watching the film I’ve made for myself: the projected, perfect, fluid life. The life I want to direct on a stage so I can explore and make it active, tangible, and genuine. Fleeting moments of pain are action. Fleeting moments of pleasure are action. I cannot physically live through the ideal projection in my head when I am sitting.
It is what we do with our time given that establishes the breadth of personal experience and observation. A week of repetition can feel like a fleeting second because it is void of depth and discovery. There is no viable material that can come from a length of empty activity that will elicit cultured development. It is a pile of finely cut dust that leaves a residue but is easily brushed off with time. You may disagree with me but hold on.
I spent years trying to shake off the accumulating pile from my head. Anything that has enough quantity to it will become too much to handle, even with something as weightless as specks of dust. After a while I lost the energy to pick my hand up. And I did not look like myself anymore. I felt heavy, dry, an empty husk. I could move the corners of my mouth to gesture but it was not genuine anymore.
When I lost vibrancy to my creative intuition, I realized that this idle state of being was a manifestation. Immediately, I uncloaked myself from the shell I hid in and drank the life I had fasted on. The relationships I had with friends solidified and new minds were sought after. I discovered the energy of people that were not in my life during my idle period and I felt rejuvenated.
During a time of self-reflection and discovery, things happen quickly when the subject wishes to pursue their objective quickly. I met wonderful friends who wanted to discover and play and drink the vitamin of life. I did not care to take my time. This was what I wanted.
Coincidentally, I met a partner who runs fast to a source of adventure, who reworks the way I laugh, who colors his eyes in the same shade as mine. I felt a line of resistance tug the momentum of my self-discovery. I wanted to examine every piece of his energy, the cadence of his voice, the way he emoted.
We began an exhilarating romantic relationship. The time since we committed to a partnership has been only for a few months on this day yet it has been gushing with dynamic experience and never-ending play. It is effortless. It is rejuvenating and compassionate. The time we mold as a union is respected and challenged. Through this mutual understanding, a rigid foundation is cementing itself through the weight of the days we spend together.
I do love you. My time with you so far has been illuminated and I look forward to the adventures we have ahead.
there we sat
consuming the same air
we cracked open our barriers
and funneled old familiarity into each other
to stifle the violent silence.
a look I once knew as home
is now something new to discover
and though we rest in different beds
I acknowledge the walk we took together
to become who we are
feeding off shared experience.
we split apart and
snapped our vessels
so that we can cultivate
our own lives.
and that is fine with me.
attach yourself to the sticky surface of the water
where we once stood to warm our feet
let it be a net and not an anchor
let us arrange the slides
the photographs of our new journeys apart
so that we may present them
in a solitary room
plush air and humming static
and feel proud
in place of discomfort.
we shared time and carved trails
to hoist ourselves into
the skin of who we ought to be
and I thank you.
as ink steps over
from pen to page
my window shows the path
no more than
a few dust
to the west
and i’m free
from your hands
as i pack my bags
flip through my
every precious thought
in between lines and
i could never leave it behind
and in every word
i have hidden all of you
i could never leave my words behind
no matter if i cross state lines
into valleys or crags or
mountains covered in pines
you are a part of me
that i can never let go
One of my favorites of yours
you committed the time to rework every emotion i have
to spoon compassion into the dehydrated cracks of my linework
to shake the tunnel of your throat and produce sounds
that lower the ragged edges on my skin
and coax light into my eyes
to see the world like glass
reflecting every piece of matter
in a visceral showcase.
the breath of another living entity
soaks its energy into my hands
to tie strange shapes into vessels
that gives body to shapeless thought.
confirming you’re there
i release tension from every nerve in my hand
to rest onto your back
and glide over the dip that found its way closest to your spine
the parent to your fluid nerves
that taught you to stretch your body
as tall as skyscrapers
while acknowledging the fertile garden
your foundation is planted into.
i break my tension and fall into
the dip of your back
to reconfigure my foundation