Something in Return.

Dropped from a noose, the introduction;

Your steps from abuse to reconstruction

My heart is the breath to your porcelein soul

All of time and its kin

Deny your right to give in

And I love you more than you know

There's nothing in reach but yesterday

From a delicate need to stay awake

To manifest your traces

Your driveway, a highway

Blind prerequisites silence

A final destination.

Sun ripened heartaches in harp string plucks

To the rhythm of needing far too much

Your homestead now is my solitude, rich

With the wrists of habit you promised you'd stitch

The crimson, the trance

The broken limbs of a crippling past

I see sitting in your chair

Your stitches stutter and bust

And without a mutter, I rust

In your dark brown hair

Eating you raw of apprehension

An acidic hunger grows

Into an incoherant suspension

Of addictive undertones

Your life's spent unfolding

Over whims in the sky

You must not have noticed me by your side

But that's okay

Under the weather

Our hearts beat forever

My love for you

This allocates

Oceans. Bodies. Heartaches

Distances, comradery

Still intact.

To know of you

And never your death;

Please,

Just give me that.

Remove the Stoic....

Rendered by such the ember that, as I remember, parallels a homeward glow;

On too scarce an earth to bare the burns of being left alone. What's vacant is the

trace of familiar faith. A friend of a friend of your burden; Someone to taste without grudge,

and with grace, the poison of your vermin. Something of . A sheperd to send the nest with the

wind. A typhoon to straighten your whimsical bends. A stifling. To be fed the suspect's

intentions.

Be lent his prints, resisted and ditched by the inventions of his regimen fists. Karma injects its


redemption in your head; Your reflection now a prison drawn of crimson in its tread. May you


perish the knowledge of being neglected. May you necessitate less; Be not a prophet of solace,


but of a skin in which to rest,instead. Then. Please, some reciprocity.
_____________________________________________________________________

Ok, it's official, my cherry-blog has been officially 'popped'. I have been having an inner debate
with myself for quite some time with regards to will I, or won't I commence a blog. I didn't really want one to follow the flock, however I think this may be beneficial to myself (and the rest of the world ) as I can come to my online retreat, without being a burden on those around me.

in treetops....

It was in the picture as a song played, and the feeling was involuntary. It started like a dumbed down response to touching a hot pan handle, inside below the breast bone. As the lyrics and melody were sprayed over the treetops, so too was the warmth inside spreading up into my chest and eyes..





It was beautifully overwhelming perhaps only given the pretty yet familiar scenery; painful maybe for the brokeness of reverie, the thievery of time and place. I felt flushed and started to cry as if two opposite perspectives were getting at each other’s backs with katana blades just after having shaken hands with the knowledge of harmony. It’s a brilliant ache of unfinished business; giving into the void of missing someone by feeling the way I did when friendship was current; being close to everything all at once via just one vessel; perceiving that depth but stuck on its transparent surface looking down, or stuck in the depth and unable to come up past a transparent top; having loved someone held up by strings that only they can see and fear puts a radiant parallel between the beautiful and the disheartening.

I have been told I have a nack for seeing deeper than the surface, but I’ve come to know it’s because there’s a reason. What I know isn’t everything, and that goes for everyone. When my own perspective is stirred into that of someone I’ve connected with, it is much more than simply different. It’s trustworthy, not because hey it sounds good but because the heart does what it must, our little minds only process it. I’m not only here with my perspective, but I was also ’there’ for the other person’s.

Where some, as reflex, would degrade where the other person is coming from, I simply feel inclined to marry myself to it just for the value of a more understanding perception altogether. I’m reminded of this when I lose control of my emotions as I’m looking into something through a thin blur on the surface of my eyes.

Another thing that I’ve come to appreciate is the knowledge that what I’m going through now with unanswered 'health conditions' has taken my mind off of a deep but deadend friendship in order to learn how to love and take care of myself - for it has been handfuls of years. And without knowing it I think we end up dropping such handfuls on our hearts.

After a while there’s no more room right there, and we’re standing there with a stupid look and our hands held up in front, open, expecting, asking "Well what now?" And that’s where I’m at. I’m happy to feel overjoyed with pain and beauty in a simple instance of image and melody; I’m reminded that I still have enough room inside to feel as deeply as I ever have, while I set out for necessarily selfish answers. But that is another story, Jen.

(Disclaimer) All written thoughts and submissions on this blog are mine, at anytime where I do submit something that does not belong to me, links will be enabled.