Letter

I'm writing...

Tonight I dreamt of us in front of our house in Kansas.

In color.

You were sitting in the rocking chair in the patio knitting a blanket, and I was refreshing wooden fence with white paint. Cerulean sky extended over vast neighborless expanse, all the way to the black line of the horizon. We were being silent as the wind trailed around the trees and chimed chain links of the swing hanging from the tree branch in our yard.

In the next moment I found myself kneeling in font of you, holding your face in the palms of my hands and kissing you warmly and contented like we have our whole lives in front of us. When I, with smile wider than the Pacific Ocean, moved away, you asked:

“Does it hurt?”

And before I could even ask: “What?” I lowered my gaze to my shirt drenched with blood.

* * *

In the morning I could not get up.

Void

Sometimes, life is so beautiful that I get an urge to keep quiet, glassified in time like female mosquito in amber.

the:pawn.project – Me, I'm Not (Void Mix)

Letter

I'm writing...

I woke up with my mouth full of acid. Cloudless sky was getting tinted yellow and pink.

Dew was glistening in semidarkness.

I walked up to the water, one foot in front of the other, rummaging in my mind through last night's dreams, sticky and thick mush of lies, quicksand of overblown emotions.

„I'm worried. “ – I said to honeysuckle shrub, scooped up water with my cupped palms and, instead of washing my face, I stared into my reflection in spring crater for a long time.

Letter

I'm writing…

It was midnight when the rabbit fell out of the sky. With a thump, softly; causing a small cloud of dust to rise. There was a disappointed yelp of she-wolf from above.

I picked up still warm, limp body by its hindlegs. Blood was trickling from the ears of the head smashed over a stone ledge. It is high. Too high.

I skinned and disemboweled my unexpected gift. Churned the fire. I felt so proud of hauling over a bucket of water before sundown. Before soon, rabbit and roots stew was bubbling happily in the cauldron. I was lying flat on my back, watching the sparks mix with stars, overjoyed with the thought of a copious breakfast.

Letter

I'm writing…

I'm dreaming rich. All-encompassing. I smell and taste. Touch. I see and hear. I dive in and resurface.

By day, I offer my bare back to the Sun. She licks me yearningly, fierce. Salty droplets creep down the hairline. Fists are tingling. Shovel is gleaming.

I sing 'till I remain voiceless. In bitter silence, gorge walls reverberate my song.

Suck it up son of mine, thunder blowing up your horizon.*

What I dislike the most about this situation is not being able to express my emotions – not having a place to cry, to scream, to grunt.

Daily self-motivation is eating me alive

*Puscifer – Momma Sed

Letter

I'm writing:

Dear, the nights are so cold.

I dream, covered over my head, in the mist of breath, how with my eyes closed, under the blanket I search for the soft fleece of your crotch. You greet me, hot and salty, with crown of your scent.

I wake up in sweat, firm and confused. I search for you in darkness within too long minutes, unwilling to admit I know where I am.

Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing.*

For the longest time now, amidst the social conventions, I feel like a proverbial Martian. I don't really feel the need to affirm my every action through other people. Don't get me wrong - I'm not stating that I'm infallible - but I try to play with the cards I already have, not the ones I could have if circumstances or whatever was different. And I cannot come to terms with aforementioned non-affirmation being socially penalized just for the heck of it.

I'm painfully aware that it is the misery-loves-company rule in action, but still it seems to me that something could and should be done to rectify this course of action.

*William Butler Yeats

Disintegration

Today is a good day.

Workday has been good. All my work is done and still I managed to read through some interesting stuff that may come in handy later.

Come Tuesday I'm filing for divorce. Not at all pleasant, but improvement on current situation.

People tell me that it is not normal to be so calm about it. That I must be guilty of something to be this composed. Sure, I am guilty of something.

I'm guilty of staying in this relation for too long, allowing all emotion to decompose and disintegrate.

Spectre

Broken,
Finding myself another low.
Dreaming,
Reviewing options with nowhere to go.

Just being alive means being alone,
Retracing my steps,
Revealing my circles.
Devoid of meaning with pleasure all gone
I stumble through life,
I find it all worthless.

There`s nothing there
On the other end of sorrow
No escape and no relief
No hope, no tomorrow.