chain chain chain
I smile as I let your foolishness wash over me, as I finally begin to realize how lucky I was when you always said no.
protection
“No, no” said my father, as he carefully removed a carving knife from my childish hands, “you aren’t old enough for that yet.” I cried, I wanted to carve beautiful shapes in the wood, wanted to create. I left it where he put it, and I have all my fingers.
“Stop!” cried my father, pulling me from the oncoming traffic, “You must always cross the street with an adult!” I was upset, I wanted to go where I wanted, but I listened, and I am not in a wheelchair.
“Not til you are ready” said my father, when I begged to drive the car, “you are much too young.” I desperately wanted to drive myself, but I listened and I still have my life.
“Not yet” said my Father, as I asked him for a woman, “you aren’t ready.” So I am listening…
Merkey Waters
Darling, I’m hovering on the precipice and the water sounds like thunder. Come near to me, come closer and kiss me, accept my fate as your own and we will tempt chance together. Lets take the leap, wrap yourself in me and we can dive into the waterfall of fate locked arm in arm, tumbling and spinning together towards the inevitable. Will we be crushed by the power and thunder of the churning falls, beaten together by unmerciful outside forces? Or, maybe, we will surface together, breaking free into the sparkling sun, alive and awash with the joy of adventure, safe at last. Either way, our destiny is entangled.
randomized thoughts
The twin dancing demons of insecurity and obsession are soft shoeing on my bed with me. I politely requested for them to stop but they seem intent on ignoring me.
The light twinkles in your eyes like the Sun is trapped within, but it’s not me you’re looking at
Your laugh is like an angel’s, ushering all who hear to heaven, but it’s not me you’re laughing with.
When you reach the escape hatch and can look back on the maze that brought you there, it’s much easier to punish yourself for the wrong turns that looked so right at the time.
sky writing
My plane swims through this thin, wonderful liquid we call air. I feel like I am on a submarine exploring the deep, the cirrus clouds below me look like floating seaweed trailing gossamer tendrils in the invisible current that is wind. I want to swim. I want to exit my submarine and plunge on a scuba expedition to the dark recesses of this ocean floor. Perhaps a civilization has sprung up down there; it’s hard to see, the air moves and dances and distorts the vision. I can make out the outlines of undersea mountains, so high, so inaccessible from the depth we cruise at. I want to leap out and sink down and join this mythical Atlantean civilization, learn their customs and explore their world. I envision stepping out and allowing the current to rip me out, I use an emergency exit to avoid the propellers, to avoid a terrible way to begin an adventure. I could breathe this light liquid, I am sure I could. My weight would pull me downward, suddenly, heartstoppingly, towards the floor of this expansive ocean, tearing the parting words that I had no use for, from my quiet lips. I would slip through the seemingly solid clouds effortlessly, but I would feel refreshed, like I had just stepped into a cold shower. The air would be cold at this depth and warmer as I sank, I would be chilled after slipping through the cloud, but the sun would be soft on my face. Would sinking that quickly hurt me? I know you can get the bends from rising from the depths too quickly but I wonder if the rate of my dive would hurt me in the same way. I can imagine nearing the bottom and seeing wonders that few hoped to see, surveying this undersea world from above. I bet it’s beautiful.
dream state
This morning I was jerked from my sleep by a sudden, sharp feeling of dread. Like an abrupt transition from air to frigid water, the passage from sleep to instant alertness tends to shock the mind. A host of other questions leap in and take the place of whatever dreamland horrors lurked in your subconscious. “What time is it?” “Am I late?” “Did I iron my shirt?”. Finding the answers to all of these questions satisfactory, I rolled over and waited for my alarm to to usher my consciousness once more into the real world.
Sitting at work later this morning I was suddenly reminded of the dancing terrors that stalked my sleep, but even searching my thoughts and memories I couldn’t remember what caused my distress. This was the worst part. The only thing I was completely sure of was that this nameless fear, was in fact, something completely deserving of my trepidation. This was no boogieman, no gleaming teeth menacing the bed springs in anticipation of a wayward hand drifting into its domain, no undead horrors walking the streets in an attempt to satiate an unquenchable thirst for brains (which, in my opinion, is more a cause for excitement than fear). No, this was something much more real, something deserving of my attention, something skulking in my shadows demanding my attention, stinking of anger and hatred.
So now, I sit here demanding more of my brain, while being laughed at by an unseen enemy. An enemy that seems impending and real, and forever beyond my grasp. Like the piece of celery stuck in your teeth that refuses all advances of a probing tongue, so this dream sits comfortable and safe in the hidden recesses of my mind. Until, I think, one day, when I am forced to say, danger nipping at my heels, “Oh yeah, this is what I was wondering about”.
