Sunday, September 27, 2009

love sent from...

older entries offered without comment.

Solstice - 6/21/2009

Will it begin again? This legendary lifestyle choice going down in history as one of the worst decisions ever made. The promise of conquering this closeness is so critical and tempting so matter-of-fact, so necessary. I want to be made whole again. I want to experience a normal life. I never want this to end. They didn't laugh they didn't exist. I am left with my own attempts at freedom of movement perhaps. A sketch or two at this hour. Imposed in haste she cried, she laughed. The nearest I've been to love in a long time. It is pleasurable and frightening. It is everything I want it to be. A this time - in this space. Inhabiting our own happiness for a change for the acknowledgment of the greater good. I absorb her strength her energy inside me it helps me to live to continue in this daily existence. Picture it: my own recovery fulfilled with all the sweetness and violence of long ago. Those hushed silences evocative of the pleasure I feel within her. From here forever and always without discipline without anxiety without it all. Her perfection is met in her absence. In this curious space I sit alone for a change for a lifetime of wishes - explain it all to me or leave me alone, let me handle it my own way. I wait upon the couch hoping for a better, a . The fault of these attitudes the fault that makes my mind so guarded, so obtuse so unnecessarily obscured from reasonable states of being. Take to the stage take to this act take to the wetness of her thighs, the softness of her beauty. Take to this and I will find stability and hope. The door is blown open by the summer wind and I lookout at the green hills to the pastures below, and beyond that to the sea. She waits, she opens the door, she confirms herself once again to me. Once again before my eyes her unquestionable beauty. I am still in shock but maintain composure. What keeps me conscious I'll never know. It is one of those insights she's born upon herself to disclose. I lie and smile like a gibbering idiot my mind vacant as my body gives itself over to her sheer physicality. To her lifeline to her irresistable smell. Something should be said for all of this. How quick, how sudden, how accepting. We nudge ourselves forward. Its time to speak at this moment to exercise oneself cry with tears in your eyes another solemn victory for your own sake. We exist we continue we proceed we carry on. Huge swathes of people exist in the harshest conditions this planet has to offer. It is like this the assumption there is no suspicion, there is no one to thank but yourself in these dreams you come across a river that cut through the forest. Upon that answer for innocence at all cost it is within your nature within you heart to let this go to let it proceed under the will of god or your own sedentary instincts we'd asked for this many times before. Now its finally here in between your hands like sand in the proverbial hourglass.
She stops. She speaks. She asks questions. I resign myself to a quick smile a moment of compassion. I use all my strength to hold back the tidal wave of heart my heart my resistance is wearing thin my body needs this space. I define it in any other way in any other terms "mon coeur reste toujours" my heart remains the same. To take the place of emotion I let the sound or the image express what I cannot what I am resisting. Our own pieces of luck and beauty. Strife exuberance when the moment calls for it. A quiet sound. "to make sense of this din" To capture my impressions of this life this cement experience that has moved me enough to write. To hunt for something marginally adequate. Something that cried out for pen and paper. Away from the screens. I am here at once without her presence. Such is all of this story. Such is all of this life.
It is still somewhat wet and bright outside. Another week of rain is on its way. Another moment stepping outside of time. Into this pleasurable act. My limited vocabulary dulls the impact of these words. None too critical then. Another lifeless form. Why be so quiet about it?
"How could you be left like this?"
"What happened to you?"
The desolation grows - why have I become so trite? The moment that begins pelase stop me. push me outside the circle. The weekend is yours - welcome to the tyranny of freedom. Why be so cagey about this? Speak direct clear thoughts don't leave her trapped in the vagaries of your soul. "Why are you still like this?" That is the real precise point. if I am a wave then let me crash upon the shore.
Why did you choose to make a sphere? The simplest and most basic of all things - the least complex and least impressive. The beauty of space (and how many times can I shift the same words around)
Met with the cruelty of the world in all its suffering madness. She isn't speaking. She stares at you with those eyes of hers and you can't help but smile as all your fears drift away. What should I know about this? How is it relevant? How has your body changed yet again? The waves lap upon the shore. You feel the wet sand under your feet as you look out to the horizon line lucky it hasn't been obscured by the approaching cloudmass. The structure you cam from is on the hill above you. Consider the landscape consider what effect this space has on you. We exist waiting for the right moment holding back the tears. Never having to explain myself to her but at the same time unable to sate her curiosity. What gift is this! What presence! Its all so sudden its all so hard to process instead I find myself away again on the beach caressed by the sands of time.
The gift of her body. The gift of this life its finally changed me. Moving to this revelation. To this icy blue presence. "the blue light of peace and lonliness"
Seeing as its almost time.
Seeing as you know me. Seeing as you said so. The biggest hope is what she radiates. Give existence a chance this time. Why dredge up those memories? Its easy enough - fears you haven't confronted perhaps? Following the right choice without a care in the world. At last the spirit of traveling away with purpose - an accurate sense of life. Of the child she once was and the sheer loneliness of it all. As long as we understand each other. At once approaching the question: Who am I? What have I done to cultivate this reality? Everything and more - all pathways lead to this sense of belonging. We've seen you around these parts before. Cultivate a new presence. The old records sound just as good as they ever did. The dxx(?)ken scales approach the precise endpoint of their existence.
In this town everyone looks the same. We are insistent on presenting a proper manner of speech.
I've been looking over the old journals briefly - another place, another time they bring back such laughs and sadness. The context of the story our own reticent beginnings wracking my brains for choice of thought - hoping to subside on it all piece by piece. The crux of the investigation leading backwards amidst all those awful acceptances we happen to know how brilliant she's become. Another guiding voice as I shiver innocently. Looking out across the bay.
What purpose does the landscape serve?
How does it manifest itself?

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