Real forgiveness

How can I make this real for you.

I am outta sight and certainly out of state,

but still...

this exploration is delving deep into a jungle

I can not tame, I can not blame....

for my heart is hearing the rest of your wailings...
the great love assailing you.

holding on... I'm holding on... to the Pine trees, to the dead leaves, to the sweet breeze...

over my skin

and this urban organ is warning me to recede and take back the love I've been ready for... oh I'm ready for it, oh you YOU come and get it, on we will not set it a top any mantel, it will be our stand 'till the motions be still...

Seriously?

I should not write when I'm drunk.

blank = white

Never never never
did I think I would be here

painting pictures for the blind
for the rest that try to see
the salt, the sting
you've got that thing that I can't have
the forever-sadness

I'm going to illustrate you a scene
in which I've been
sunny all my days
back when the ways of the world
would let you seep into my girl

When I was not looking
Birches grew from my head
bone blanched and red dead.

And in the center I've exploded again.
Just fifteen seconds to say goodbye.
a moment only to pity and cry.
Squandered as such
deserving to die.

What i learned today: that there is truth in thought.
That we are gifted this mind, and though we have little control over its wanderings,
it can set us so unbalanced and apart from the soil, that we merely forget the love.

love involved in ...

The title

The title of my blog is misleading. I'm assuming if you check this then you'll want to know what is happening in my life. Truth be told, I'm hardly writing in this thing anymore because if I did write about all my events, feelings, whatever, I would be at it all day. So why don't you write about the important stuff? Well, I can't. I've got no filter. I can't prioritize. That shit's hard!

Cop-out.

But, hey, you wanted to know? There you go.

I feel like writing a poem. On Craig's list they have poems written by desperate people. They are about real pain and, as kind of a twisted perversion of emotion, are heartbreakingly bad.

But hey... At least they are having interactions with people that are breaking their hearts. Good for them. I'm content to stare at the ground and pretend I'm to good for human interaction. Not like I'm craving it or anything. (Dripping with sarcasm...obviously)

"I love the sound of tires running along wet pavement.". she said with her head on his chest.

She had been lying there, one ear to his breath, the other--ignoring the TV's droning voices-- focused on sound of pavement's moistness.

"Hmm? Ah... yeah, me too."

"Really? When I was young...", but was ssshhed before she was through.

In the beginning his eyes were bright, his smile wide and sincere. Now...

Now it's time to sever
all the many years we walked together,
all the sunsets dipped in heather,
all the star fields foraged through,
all the times I confided in you,
all the mornings in our bed,
the sun golden guilded our heads.

The sound of wet tires washed me through,
and now I will be done with you...

She raised herself up off him
smiled and said,

"I'm getting a sandwich. You want another beer?"