nestled firmly, solidly
in your palm
Until with a purposeful
I extend with brilliant force
at your direction
and spin, spin
perhaps I light up
but I spin, spin
and then my tether flips
a kaleidoscope of knotwork
Until I drop
grounded far from
It's dark at five pm.
Acutely aware of every minute tick after four,
Time cringing its way towards his arrival.
It's dark at five pm.
Leave me out at the raining curb,
wet and grey and so cliche as to be two times too absurd.
Reflections in puddles a kaleidoscope of hurt,
my special places with triple the faces,
when all I wanted was to be first.
There's a tightness in my chest at the muscles in your thighs,
a trace of your taste on the tip of my tongue,
sweetening reflexive lies.
When once I thought I saw colors blooming--
pinks and reds and purple bruising,
instead I found I had grown those flowers alone.
My crowded garden of lovers with faces turned from me towards the sun,
kneeling to weep, I see the April rains are done.
You think you understand me,
That somehow in our ever
Evolving, spinning, mash-up, galaxy of relationships,
I am the simple one.
I want to climb a wall sideways
and laugh into your ignorant face.
All my sharp-edged energies?
All those strange, twisted vibes
That make you all accuse me of being
Clearly the output of smooth functioning,
Well-oiled, graceful mental machinery,
Blueprinted and manufactured by a
Het-norm society from which I have
Distilled into the straightforward character and personality
You fancy yourself to know.
I'm the normal one?
You know nothing of the challenges of
Integrating my interfaces,
Cognitive dissonance my warm sleeping cuddle at
You've written me off.
Some sort of blank template or grey pillar to contrast
Your crazy kalaidescope life.
It's easier for you that way.
I'm the simple one.
Once when waking
dream-confusion muddled the
blurry room impressions
and I thought I saw you
reaching for me
and my heart warmed to the day.
But then the space resolved
to my sleepy eyes
cold clarity focusing and
you slumbered beside me
and I resigned myself to
a waiting half-sleep.
Do we look to community to replace individual growth?
Do we grow as individuals to make community?
Jung levels the challenge that we look to community for the kind of self-actualization we can only achieve through inner work...and I am conflicted because I've tended to feel that inner work towards actualization is impossible without the kind of community I have generally considered to be lacking (think Putnam's Bowling Alone). Also that it might be pointless/worthless... If the important things in life really center around connections to others, how do I find meaning in solitary and/or internal experiences?
Have you ever run towards a siren song,
eyes wide open?
Have you danced to pulsating music,
keenly conscious of the sleepy
drug in your veins?
I'm confident the sometimes subtle strength
of my will
will pull us all through when I dive
a three-way collision--
old loves and tempers
fraying around the heat of
Each of them uniquely, exquisitely,
and so am I.
So, run I do.
Flirt and dance and entice,
Maybe my song will resonate the most,
and we will all
In a strange twist on who I used to be, I find myself frustrated with the extent to which I bite my tongue these days. While I'd once attempted to culture said habit in order to avoid thrusting my opinions unrespected by and unwanted upon others, I now find it looks less like maturity and more like a distinct laziness about articulating my thoughts when I hold my tongue. And I have always nurtured the conviction that an inability to articulate one's thoughts on any topic of importance is indicative of an inarticulateness of those thoughts.
So... I'll work on that, I suppose.
(Who might've guessed my problem would become not expressing myself?)