you needed me not

I wish you needed me, now. I wanted you to not be able to live without me. I wanted you to need to talk to me, to need my voice, to need my comfort.
I want you to be strong enough on your own, and yet still choose to need me and prefer it rather than not.

But we don’t get these things. I don’t get them, I don’t get much. The flicker of passing friends. An empty day that I can’t do anything but think of you and look at you and re-read all you’ve said. 

I wish you chose to need me.

weaker hands

weaker hands than mine will grip you
and you will tingle at the newness
the awkwardness or the ease with which
the hands will touch yours, your back, your face
they will excite, as you imagine where else they can be
they will grasp at your arms as you’re pulled into a kiss
and you’ll twist towards and away as they touch your thighs
fleeting thoughts of how long it’s been since you were kissed like this
touched like this
and you’ll throw them to the side because they were mine
they were mine hands then
you’ll push that out of your mind at first quickly
and then never have to think of it again

stronger hands than mine will lift you
and you will recoil at the pain
but just at first, until you’re suddenly deep in that cave
surprised at the ease with which you lose what you were
all for what seems to be a path of comfort, of ease
and you won’t be anyone i’ve ever known anymore
you and i, we’ll be lost in the crevices
between the new love, the new lust
gone from the surface, from clouding your thoughts with the past
until my face is gone, my name in a grave
a grave that’s now home to me and to all i see

all i see

smaller hands than mine will grip yours
and you will warm at the strength of them
of her tiny fingers holding onto yours and to mine
her tiny mouth opening, closing, our child
she wriggles, and she cries
but don’t fear
from this grave you can’t hear her, love
and i can’t hear anything else

the world that is out there, i know you need it
but i’m trapped by what should be, and lost in what was

the worst parts of me

If only you knew.

There’s things I’m not proud of, I’m full of guilt and anger at myself. There’s things I’ve wanted to do to hurt you. There’s things I’ve done you’d kill me if you knew. There’s worse parts of me than you’ve seen or will ever see. But I laid out all I could for you to see, and you still accepted me. 

I’ve done so much, though there’s still more to fix, that you’d never forgive me for. Some of things I’m doing now, you might never forgive.

If only you knew the depths I’ve gone to clear out my heart, my vessel, for you to be there. 

You still are.

I enjoyed the rhythm of the weeks when we were together. At first, looking forward to visiting one another every other weekend, that longing that distance gave us. We stayed in that state for too long.

But once we had joined our lives, that rhythm we fell into wasn’t ideal, not at all. It lead to problems, I know, but I still long for it. Weekdays of work then home, work then home. Weekends being lazy, shopping for housewares together, visiting family. The back and forth patterns were always reassuring. 

This is a bit rambling but that’s how my brain is today.

far past

I’m far past ready for this to be over. I’m almost forgetting what good felt like. Each day gets worse.

What I’m starting to see is no matter what I choose to do from here on, no matter where I go, I can’t get away from this emptiness. This lack of reason, lack of hope, I haven’t felt this ever. 

I can’t do this much more without crossing a line, I can feel it.

a day, negated

The tiny amount of routine I have was shot this morning, and it’s a testament to how fragile I am now that it has thrown me for a total loop. Totally small things changed of course, but being a touch dehydrated/hungover (after only two beers, wtf?) along with a routine change has me almost lost. It’s quite sad, honestly. 

Going to bed without her hurt last night, a lot. A day feeling better in many ways, negated. 

image taken from Archillect

suckle the pig

2_Pig

“That’s the moment when I began to have compassion for boys again. There was no joy anymore when I saw guys in my crew crashing and burning over their love for a girl who was just urinating all over them. And I went, ‘Oh, I’ve just been on the other side of this.’” – Tori Amos

I’ve never lost compassion, at least I can say that. I’m always empathizing, even in the darkest and most inappropriate moments, even when I shouldn’t have. I think it’s become a fault of mine, honestly. I see so many people moving through life without empathizing, selfishly pushing and pulling others at their whims, not listening but waiting on their turn to talk, all that…and they’re happier than me. More successful, dealing with things, gaining more friends, getting laid, whatever. It’s pretty sick, but every time I wonder if I had it right all along, before I decided to focus on someone else, and just toss the past ten years to the wind and be as selfish as I’d trained myself to be back then. I was good at it. It worked well for me, and it wasn’t even in fashion, I’m sure I could be a king at that shit with how weak the competition is; it’s plentiful, but they’re individually weak because they feel unfulfilled. I never had that fault when I was selfish, I was fine with it.

But I traded some things out, and I think maybe I’ve done all I can down this path and it’s just not for me. Don’t suckle the pig that bites you breast. Childish, selfish, empty, soulless. Why not.

Crashing and burning over my love for a girl who was just pissing all over me. It’s gotten me nowhere but lower than I’ve been in a very long time, maybe ever. So why not forget that route if those are the results I get for it. Why not.

I’m beginning to be able to see it all somehow. I can separate myself from it finally, and that space, however fleeting it may be or how small, is allowing me to stand back and look on from afar.

It’s pretty sickening, all of this.

seven

seven days past,
and it could’ve been a hundred or an hour, i wouldn’t know.
the sun is moving around me, stationary and formless,
soulless, flesh without thought.
just an animal now, an animal weak and left behind,
dying and waiting to be prey.

seven weeks since,
and i couldn’t feel the desire to be anywhere else
but right there where i was in her arms.
there’s no path to the stars, no road on the earth
that doesn’t lead me back there.
beside her, beside you.

seven years gone.
but they’re all still here,
and they’re all that i have.
burrowing deeper into the dirt in my lungs that i feel forming
feeding and growing rot and suffering.
time keeps moving for some, but not for me.

all shores

all shores are too far now
and lilting slowly farther away
awake and drifting
asleep and dreaming
no edge between night and day
no dusk or dawn; all sun or all stars
breathing water, breathing air

the rain pours from the skies
no distinction now
no reason to pretend there was ever a difference
between the pulsing of the waves
and the clouds pouring their hearts out to the ocean
giving themselves without asking
knowing they will lose all they are to the seas
emptying every last drop that has made them;
is that not love, child? is that not love?

all shores too far, long drowned
the sky and the ocean are one now
the earth somewhere beneath all this water
asleep and drifting
awake, child, and dream
the earth
the sun
the stars
all shores we’ll never see

But first, whisky.

Even talking to a friend going through much the same situation as me didn’t help…in fact it made things worse. Not his fault of course. 

But after he mentioned the pain he’s in, I started focusing on the wrongs and the pain of the wrongs I felt and still feel, and of course I just spent an hour forcing those images into my face, searching for names and times and considering ruining people’s lives since they contributed to ruining mine. That’s what I want to to do but don’t think I ever would, not in my current situation at least. But that desire to share and extend the suffering to those deemed guilty for it is natural. Focusing on it the way I am probably isn’t of course, but it’s all I have, because I can’t talk to her, I can’t have what was again and it looks like I won’t ever have any future with her. Yes, I’m just rambling. Sorting. Wallowing. All at once.

Sharing with my friend even a little didn’t help me at all, it made me feel terrible for him and sent me further down today than I was. Not sure what method there is to get out of these days when I’m in them, I’ve tried everything I can think of.

I know what I’ll be doing tonight. But first, whisky.