Relinquish.

It's the helplessness that gets me every time.
Do I have control issues?
And, is this where it all comes from?
Some misplaced blame
Another story I tell myself about how I could have done more
How this shouldn't have happened and how I need to tell you what happened to me because maybe you will forgive me.
Maybe your absolution will make it go away.
I have to hold on, I have to remember and go over it again- the part where I was wrong or couldn't or didn't. I have to go over it again- as a punishment.
Because maybe I will find something new?
I hold on so tight because it's comfortable- because that ache is a familiar thing.
I want to tell you but I don't. I never do because the truth is, you don't want to hear it.
The truth is, it doesn't really matter.
My purpose is to learn as much as I can
To overcome my fears
To give as much love and light and hope as I can
As much as I can.
And the rest of the truth is, I wasn't helpless in those moments.
I gave of my love.
I dressed her gently and sang her a lullabye and held her with love and care.
I gave a smile, a gentle touch, a laugh.
The real truth is, it's not my fault.
And that story only holds court in my soul as long as I allow it to.
Until I can let it go, and let unbridled joy fill in the cracks.

How do I let go of the purple lips, the crawling, the smells and cracking skin and bones? How to stop my little skeletons their rattling? It's a journey of forgiveness and releasing.
Its comfortable in the dark,
But I don't have to stay here.
I am my own captor- my own judge and jury.

I don't have to pay my soul's ransom in rubies and sapphires.

Eyes up.

An ocean washes in front of me

Clearing a beach of its sand

Clearing away the fears, the loneliness, all the little shells and stones.

The water slowly advances, relentless in its pursuit of the shore.

One step forward, two steps back for the beach.

Belly up, an eternity of helplessness - reeds in the dunes cry out for strength

They scream for relief from the sky.

They wave seeded stems in desperate prayer,

But the sea flows on

The wind keeps blowing

And someday, slowly, the beach will lose.

Alone.

Lots to learn.

Another opportunity for growth

I want to run and hide, avoidance tempts me.

But any opportunity to face my fears

To allay my insecurities

To find the reality that lives between the truth

And the stories I tell myself.

Making up some judgement - it isn't there

Excusing my pathology, maybe I'm not so strange

Sleeping less than I want to

Feels like it's all always falling apart - some Mills' Mess

With 7 flaming, jellied octopi.

I'm sure it looks like it's always together.

"How do you deal with the stress?"

In healthier ways, I think.

I still give in, now and again to temptation

To spite, to destruction and escapism.

Sometimes I still sleep too much

"Everyone you know admires you."

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

Lesson for the day: learning to accept more.

Challenge: fear of being alone.

Surprise: commitment. Avoidance gets me absolutely nowhere.

Don't ask. Or, reasoning.

Got nothing but time on our hands
Sometimes it still does ruin my day
Can this be my sign?
"Dont ask."
I want to be better.
I want to do it right, but right by whom?
Am I justified or simply making excuses?
I want to honor that, something special.
I know the difference but I am the only one here.
I am the only one here.
Catching up, catching up...
Waiting for the momentum to sweep me back into action, conviction, attention.
Waiting for the pendulum to bring me clarity.

Resolution.
I am surprised that despite some dissolution, still a tenuous outcome.
I am somehow pleased, as if it's a job well-done.
It isn't.
I remember my bedside prayer for you and shake my head.

"I can't force these eyes to see the end."
Find a goal, then.
Find an outcome, however dubious at least it's a plan.
A target, a path, a reason for this bloodshed.
If it's gonna hurt, at least tell me why.

Being saved instead

Outward creation inward destruction
Can't save anyone else but you can set that intention
Lots of love and work
Needing guidance and strength
Grab your ankles and open wide
Need to have that discussion
Maybe I spoke too quickly
Seeing it through, seeing right through me.
I see a simple difference, but I guess it's not so simple
Not so easy to draw a line.
But when did partnership become ownership
And when did a kiss become a contract.
And how does one diminish the other?
Exhausting exhausted.
Wish I had more to bounce off of, more sympathetic ears
Less judging ones. Fewer bags to carry.
But none of it's simple or easy
Writing and rewriting my own script's a terrifying process.
Slower than it should be.
"Got nothing but time on our hands" though.
Connection starts like they always do, in that place where the pieces of you and the pieces of me that are lowest on the list get highest on the rail.
But ends up in a whole new field.
I want to be the same, but I find myself selfishly helplessly enjoying being saved instead.

Alter.

Anything.
Anything to look up.
To see farther.
Flirting, dancing with it.
Crossing the line only halfway.
Drop by drop.
Reminds me why I do this
Reminds me there are a thousand ways to bleed
And a thousand more to stem the tide.
Some just work better than others.
Start and stop again
My insecurities bog me down
Like wading through the mud, one slogging step at a time.
Every time I am convinced I'll get to hear "no more"
"no thanks"
"not now"
I know it's in my head- an automatic pattern
A spinal reflex response to getting my box stretched.
But every time I am reassured a little more,
That it's alright for now.
I can stop holding my breath.
Reminding myself that there's a thousand ways to die a little.
"Suicide on the installment plan"
And so the floor stays dirty
And so I do it wrong some of the time.
I'll be the first to say I fuck it up alot.
But the things I do right matter.
The laundry piles up.
I will never be a housekeeper, or the things a good woman should be,
But I promise to be interesting.
Fascinatingly, horrifyingly so.
There's a thousand ways to see it, sometimes a perspective check is necessary.
So I pour myself a lemony nightcap
I enjoy it's bitterness- distracting me from the more acrid thoughts I am helpless to stop.
Whining only, when is it my turn?
A small blow to my fragile ego makes me stiffen, cautious.
Today's sin is: envy.
Is it really worth it?

Opportunity

My shirt says: Absolut: Opportunity.
Opportunity to overcome fear and self-doubt: sweet!
Can I push through this pain (safely)?
Can I keep running til the top of this hill?
Can I keep my mind calm and focused in the dark.
I know my body can handle the mileage-the question is: can I wrap my head around it?

Sudden.

Just not big enough.
Too tiny. Too, too tiny.
Sweet little boy, born too soon.
I wish you a short and peaceful journey.
Go quietly.
Do not cry.
Do not fight or strive.
It's ok to give up, to let go, to slip away into the morning.
Don't reach your tiny arms to the sky, it isn't worth it.
It isn worth the tubes and stabs, the million painful moments between here and any joyful one.
If you ever know joy.
If you ever shout and run and skin your knee.
If you're ever grounded or lose your homework.
If you ever grin a boyish grin.
Chances are you won't.
So leave it all behind, drift off into endless sleep until your turn comes again.

Alien and miniature.
A blurry, bloody, garbled sprout of the forested future planned for you.
I'm sorry for you. For all of you.
And I hope you find your way out.

Sometimes, babies die.
Such a taboo to even think or write... But I know what this one faces,
And in my heart, I hope he dies soon.

None.

Your ghost haunts me through the halls.
You tug at my pants when I stop to breathe.
Startle me around the corner.
Invade my ears with your silence, and echo through my sinuses.
I open my mouth to forget for a moment, and fail again.
I was ok earlier, but superstition overcomes logic
Limbic overcomes conscious.
My reptilian brain destroys me again.
Like a fog, like a choking mist from an age-old waterfall: it never stops, thunders on from a stream to a river over the edge, and who is to say- who draws the line between the pounding downward force and the fine lifting fairy drops. They are one and the same- carving the rock and filling the air and so they are one. And so they are one.
My eyes sting, lungs burn and hands ache, grasping at straws for a meaning, an answer.
A cause or a cure, I have neither.
So, follow me if you will.
Scratch at my neck, howl in my ear.
Boast your very existence, until you forget how to be, swept downstream over the rocks.
A cause, a cure, meaning or answer, I have none.
None.