Inner Thoughts - Blog Posts
Love on the Plaza.
I wrote to her
my fantasy love letters,
and she replied
to them
in reality.
Jessica,
3rd Home,
Little Attics Apartments—
you were crude
and jolly,
and now,
irreplaceable.
I have to realize that
anything I do now
amounts to something greater-
a good sleep,
an understanding that I am human
after all,
a walk through quiet forests.
All these things
are of great help to me,
even when they earn me none
of the dimes
that are often needed
to pull myself out of this abyss.
Love and sadness, Hope and breakage, God and endurance, Politics and suffering. Science and destruction, Education and slavery, Race and division, Life— life, and life.
On Valentine's Eve.
You shouldn't forget
darling
the crucial reality
that you are,loving people.
There needs alter,
there priorities,
there formulas,
their determinations.
Like weather
they, at times
dont come as forecasted
and that lamentably
bears on there love
to you
and impacts there
anticipations too.
They wanted me to become a man who fights for his respect. But I became a man who respects himself. And that’s how I became awkward— and I loved
that
kind of awkwardness.
3:19 AM What’s around me is sleep. What’s within me are thoughts dancing on songs I hate to hear.
3:20 AM now And I’m done with this prose— or to put it right, I’m done with this observation.
I am this. Now, you should know that I won't push you to a wall I haven't pushed myself to first.
I'd rather get there first, then wait, if you’ve got the guts to join me there.
I am this, understand— I don’t desire to be loved unconditionally unless I first love without conditions.
This is love, baby, and all it means is for us to be a little bit more fair to each other.
They wanted me to become a man who fights for his respect. But I became a man who respects himself. And that’s how I became awkward— and I loved
that
kind of awkwardness.
Maybe all that we want is already taken— no matter how much we cry, yearn, lament, we never seem to get what we seek.
I will not survive. I will live.
A life-changing epiphany.
A complication.
A trepidation
that even in
the insurgents,
the ones with
bottles and bottles
of red pills,
the Mavericks.
Within them,
lies those
still
enslaved by
the very fruits of their rebellion.
This is the 11th day of
waiting.
seated in the same spot
grindling my hands
to type
and
what gets out is
ddddhhhhdhdjdhdhddhkjsdhjdsh.
Whatever part of the
brain that platitudinized me to write
is dead now.
It made me fall in love,
and now—kaput—it's gone.
Uuuuh what a devoid day !
I am dissolving
into a desolate form.
Compiling Mirthday feels like walking through a forest of thoughts, deciding which trees to let grow and which to prune. This book is my heart in prose and poetry—a map of solitude’s hidden trails. SOLITUDE AND LONELINESS, TIME AND CHANGE, INDETITY AND EXPECTATIONS, THE ABSURDITY OF LIFE, MENTAL HEALTH AND SOCIETY EXPECTATIONS all loom in atleast all the pieces i have so far collected .
feel free to be a part of this experience here and its free mate.
https://www.patreon.com/lifepath25