devoid…

and, i feel it sometimes

or, i think that i feel it

it’s like a phantom organ

my mind knows

that it’s not there

but, left in it’s place

damaged nerve endings

and thick scar tissue

like to play games

with my senses

needling and burning

pulsating and throbbing

a prolonged and perpetual

dull toothache-like hurt

it’s long, long gone

and, yet somehow i manage

to keep going without it

but, i know that i’m

altogether lacking

a very vital part

i know that i am devoid

 

 

 

for my friend who is going through some shit (nothing to do with me)…

j*****a feels like being quiet

she is retreating…

pulling away…

making her great escape…

she sees the light…

at the end of the tunnel…

she eyes her white flag…

sitting on the table…

near the door…

she is torn…

does she listen to her demons…

or, does she listen to her heart…

she picks up her flag…

she begins to pace…

she tries hard to hear her gut…

she scrambles to sort feelings out…

the question is…

will j*****a act…react…or do nothing…

will she take action…

take a chance and risk it all…

will she just react…

waving her flag, recoiling, running…

will she do nothing…

playing it safe and never changing…

at any rate, she’s debating…

she’s keeping her words to herself…

not because she’s unkind or stingy…

not at all, it’s entirely because…

she needs time to frame her answer…

as to not distress…

or hurt the questioner…

today, j*****a feels like being quiet…

nine minutes…

…black skies…

…swollen clouds…

…familiar scent…

…lovely dankness…

…wet pavement…

…windows down…

…coolish breeze…

…raindrops fall…

…drying instantly…

…puddles nowhere…

…drizzle stops…

…nine minutes…

…heavenly bliss…

 

i live on a limited income…

***tonight, it seemed apropos to go through the things that i have written in the last year. i came across this little gem that i had written about, m****a.***

i live on a limited income

yes, sure that’s sometimes true of my finances…sometimes not…

but, what i speak of is much more existential, than anything else…

what i’m talking about is way more valuable to me than any currency…

it may have no value at all to you and in fact you’ve shown me that repeatedly…

i’m talking about the things that give my life authenticity and meaning…

the things that i either give myself, i earn, or i accept as gifts from others…

there are many of these things, but i will use love as an example…

i have a very limited amount of love in my life, it’s my most scarce commodity…

i absolutely, positively have to keep as much as i can for myself…

as i have only a small stipend coming in each month from friends and buggs…

i really don’t have any extra love to throw around willy-nilly…

if i use half of the love that i was going to use on myself, on you…

it’s because i wanted to and i thought that you were worth sharing with…

i didn’t expect you to share with me, but had a little left from the month before…

you liked it, you liked it a lot and wanted more, that made me happy. i obliged…

at the end of the third month, you came by with your hand out…

i looked deep within myself, in each and every place, and found no trace of love…

the love was gone, absolutely nothing for myself and nothing for you…

i looked up rather sheepishly, expecting to meet your gaze, but you were gone…

long gone…and there i was wondering how i could give to my own dog…

what i-myself had so foolishly and recklessly squandered, risking it all…

wondering how i could give him, what i no longer even had for myself…

in one movement, he was in my lap, licking my tears away…

in that moment, his sweet nature and kindness filled me…

filled me with more than enough love for both of us, he and i…

 

 

 

“rolling in the deep”…

tongue-tied and twisted up…

as the plot keeps changing…

in a movie that is not my own…

as the writers constantly change…

update, and change my dialogue again…

they hand me my new script…

completely different from the old one…

the one that i knew by heart…

and had committed to memory…

i’m given a small amount of time…

to familiarize myself with the lines…

memorize my stage direction and marks…

and, at the end there are three highlighted lines…

“study and practice the new attributes of your character.”…

“natasha is now an exotic dancer…she dances nude, wearing only heels…speaks only russian.”…

“your call is at 0600…using dawn’s light to highlight natasha’s dance on top of a towncar, while singing “rolling in the deep,” in russian to a wealthy businessman, in mid-town manhattan.”…

frustrated beyond belief…

frustrated beyond belief

nothing makes sense

it sounds weird

that’s not what i want

scratch that

scrap the whole fucking thing

must begin again

i’m struggling

trying to communicate

what i want to say

i just can’t get it right

don’t know if it’s

a brain thing

a physical thing

or, a heart thing

i know exactly

what i want to write

however, after i’m done

writing for hours

i read it back

and, it’s the exact opposite

plus, it’s garbled

disconnected

lacking me

it’s like plain white bread

it’s cold and empty

without style and substance

completely milquetoast

like shaking someone’s hand

when you really wanted a hug

saved from myself

my attention shifted

questioning my psyche

why? why is it the exact

fucking opposite

of what i wanted and meant

to write on the page

i’m left dumb founded

mumbling to myself

shaking my head

half of it’s decent

it’ll be salvaged

those were the bits

that were truly me

will start tomorrow

with a fresh mind

and, a positive attitude

i’ll finish what i’ve started

and, send it on it’s merry way

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

serenity now…

…smothered by the sun’s rays…

…enveloped in steamy, hot heat…

…the pavement smells tar-ry…

…the fruit smells fermented…

…tiny, little gnats that bite…

…miniscule, fruit flies buzz…

…sticky, sweaty, sweet smelling swill…

…moist and clammy skin…

…hot to the touch…

…red in the face…

…trying to be tranquil…

…ruminating on relaxation…

…channeling the calm…

…or in the words of frank costanza…

…”serenity now…serenity now”…