"Why?"...

on some level
it's about control
and i'm sorry about that
insecurity
always is

You are the other half of me
as i am the other half of You
and so if there's something
about You
or something You do
that i do not understand
then i'm not understanding myself
i'm unsure of myself
i'm the definition of
insecure

the Thing
whatever it is
the particular Thing
that i have failed to understand
about You
about me
is completely
and absolutely
irrelevant
what matters
what's important
is that

I

Don't

Understand

everything else
is just window dressing  

i need to understand
in order to feel secure
in order to maintain the comfortable illusion
that i have some control over my life
over myself
that I have some understanding of
who i am
where i am
what i'm doing
what the fuck is going on 

so when i'm threatened
by my own confusion
i make inquiries
i ask questions
i try to understand
desperately 
urgently
crucially
i have to try
i have to

and besides
there's no harm in asking
is there?

Just The Two Of Us...

itch scratch itch
in my arm above the bicep
where my wedding ring is tattooed under my skin
find an overly large protrusion
never noticed
shouldn't be there
where'd it come from
push pull pinch the flesh
work it out
no pain
pleasant release of pressure as the skin
tears
rips
bleeds
drips
reveals
yellow-white tube
jutting now from the wound
and then it moves
writhes
twists
wiggles
in my flesh
turns black eyes to mine
pleading innocence
to be left alone
to continue consuming me
inside
where it's dark and warm

it Loves me
i know
because it lives inside
my wedding ring

Air...

it's stupidly sentimental but

I always feel a little sad when

it comes time to

shut the windows

for the year and

turn on the A/C

or the Heat

and start breathing our

electrically-modulated air

I feel as if I've

only just started to

work my way back out

into the world and

I'm not ready

I'm not ready yet to

go back inside

and breathe my own

rotten recycled breath

the breath of my city is

so much more

so much more delightful

so much more invigorating

so much more intoxicating

so much more

than me

I feel slightly lost and

alone when

this life requires that I

wall myself off from that

World breath

to hibernate through

our hot and cold winds

I'm not ready yet

I'm never ready

I'm still trying to find my way

out

Half In The Whole...

please let this be
the bottom
and not some lost ledge
abandoned out of sight in the depths
beyond the light
holding me up to
the false hope of
an easy climb back
to the top
to stable grounds
and effortless ability

please let this be
the bottom
the real bottom
because
I don't think
my bones
could take another
fall

Bad News Beers...

I am definitely drinking too much.

I'm not entirely surprised, or overly concerned, by this.  It's to be expected that after abstaining for a year, I would revel a bit in the new found freedom to drink again.  It's new and shiny and fun and I want it all right now!  And I also expected it to take me a while to learn the ropes again; we have to fuck up in order to learn how to do something right.

But, still, I'm definitely drinking too much.  And I need to calm down.  Now.

I need to remember that I can't just drink as much as I want, whenever I want.  I could die that way.  And if I keep it up, I will die that way.

Wake up, motherfucker.

Blah Blurble...

I really want to write something to post here.  I have a lot to say right now.  But I don't particularly feel like saying any of it.  And I'm so busy right now, overwhelmed with so much work, that I can't even find the time to keep up with my email, much less write something.  And because of all the work, when I'm home, I'm just desperately trying to relax (largely without success), and don't have the energy to express things I need to express but don't really want to express.

That little slice of nothing is all I have time for right now.  And I feel guilty for taking the time to write even that much.  (Which is ironic, because the only reason I wrote it at all is to respond to the feeling of guilt I had over not posting.)

Having My Favorite Way With You...

when I reminisce about

our Yesterdays

the recollections that stand out

above all the rest

as the most important

the remembrances that call to me

louder than all the others

to retain my attention again

and again

the memories that are painted

in the most vivid colors

to recall my mind's eye

repeatedly

and inexorably

are always of those times

when I've made you

Laugh

like that

just like that

the laugh I love the most

where it seems to almost

burst out of you

as if you couldn't hold it in

even if you'd wanted to

where your eyes crinkle up

the way they do when you're about

to cry

and your blood rushes to your face

rushes to greet me

and you become my favorite

shade of pink

just like that

you're at your most beautiful

how many times now

have I made you

lose control

this way?

made your body rebel

against your will

made you shake

in uncontrollable

ecstasy

that left you sore

and gasping for breath?

Not nearly enough

for of all the ways

I can please you

pleasure you

for of the whole range of choices

I have at my disposal

to make you shudder

in uncontainable joy

there is not one that returns to me

half as much delight

nor conveys half as much

of my desire

nor expresses half as much

of my love

as does the Gift

of getting to hear you laugh

at me

until you are entirely

spent

Everything I Write Is Narcissistic Crap...

I'm hiding here
in this space where
I keep brutally exposing myself
I'm not really My self
I wear masks
and pseudonyms
and there's certain things I can't say
won't say
because I'm afraid of who will read them
and what they might learn about me
And sometimes I feel that makes
all of this
pointless
I am torn between two
equally important desires
I need to be raw here
I need to be violently open
I need to feel free to express
whatever I am feeling
for no other reason than the simple fact that
I am feeling
But I am also afraid
of the reactions I might get
afraid I might hurt someone
afraid of someone I know
learning something about me
that I don't want them to know
afraid they'll use it to hurt me somehow
I need to be wide open
but can only do it behind the safety of a mask
and even that isn't good enough
I still constantly self-censor
I have pages and pages of writings that no one
but me
has ever seen
will ever see
Even now
as I write this
I can't help but wonder at the reactions
I might get
from people I know
in real life
or people I know
in the wire
or people I've
never met
and that wondering changes me
changes my feelings
makes me second-guess
what I'm going to say
The only way my art can ever be
absolutely true
absolutely honest
absolutely Me
is if no one ever reads it
But what good is Expression
without Witness?
I need to have
an audience of strangers
for each poem
total strangers
that I will never have to see again
Or I should tag my poems on walls around town
in the middle of the night
like my little brother
(oh, gods, what if he reads this??!)

Fuck you
I'm leaving it in

Faced...

I don't know what to look like anymore.

My hair doesn't match my beard.  And neither match my general appearance as a middle-aged boy in tee-shirt and sneakers.  My outward "look" has become a mish-mash of favorite pieces culled from various looks I've worn over the years, plus some things I've just made up, all stitched back together like a patchwork riot.

I don't know what to do about this.  Or if I should even do anything.  It's just something I noticed this morning, and felt I should share.  (And it was short.  I don't have time to write out any of the other, more important things I have to share, because they are complicated and involved and I am stupid fucking busy right now.  [Like, literally, stupid-busy.  My busy-ness is directly related to the stupidity of others.])

I guess this situation bothers me, now that I've noticed it.  But I'm not quite sure how, exactly.  Or why.  I think perhaps because it was apparently accidental, and I hadn't noticed it before.  Like, I have absolutely no problem going out in public looking like a complete dork.  I've done it many times.  But in each of those instances, that's what I was going for.  In this situation, on the other hand, I don't really know how I look at all.  I've been concentrating on the individual elements so closely that I've lost sight of the overall picture of how they all fit together.  And I found it disconcerting to suddenly realize, "Oh, shit!  How did I end up looking like this??  Does it look good or not?  Fuck, I can't even tell anymore!  And I have no idea what else I would rather do instead."

Wah, wah; boo hoo.  Whatever.  Again, not a major problem, but just something I noticed and felt like writing down.

The Hole In The Middle Of Every Spring...

I never know how to feel on Mother's Day
My mother killed herself
She checked into a hotel room
without telling anyone
and took a bottle of sleeping pills
one at a time
until they were all gone
and then she laid down
and put herself to sleep
She did it to escape the pain
yes
She did it to save herself
certainly
She did it to save us
undeniably
to save us
from her
from her madness
from her long pain
from her forever scream
She loved us so much
that she died
to protect us
from herself
She gave me life
and then she gave it to me again
saving my life
by sacrificing her own

So whose life
am I really celebrating
today?

And should the flowers
be daisies
or lilies?

Bottled Up...

Another day where I can't bring myself to post anything I've written.

I have so much to say, but I can't bring myself to say any of it.

It's only a matter of time now.

Whathuh?...

No time to write today.  Too much work to do.  And I have a lot to write about, but I don't feel that I can actually write about any of it.  I mean, I could - I'm capable of writing about it.  It's just that it doesn't feel right to do so.  It feels wrong to bottle it up, too.  But it also feels wrong - in a completely different way - to express it.  At least, to express it here.  Fucked, either way, I guess.

Further Results...

Well, this is getting downright disappointing.  Last night, things got even worse.  I'm beginning to feel down about this whole thing.  I'm honestly not sure what to do at this point.

Yesterday afternoon, I started to feel restless and anxious.  I couldn't pinpoint why, exactly.  But that's not entirely unusual for me.  What was unusual, was that the feeling steadily grew as the day went on.  And then I started to get upset.  Just feeling really down, really unhappy.  Again, no apparent cause for this emotional state, and again, it grew steadily.  By the time I got home from work, I felt like complete shit.  I was really depressed, and really unhappy, about nothing in particular, and everything in general.

And I could discern this strange disconnect between my emotional state and the rest of my perception.  For instance, something unpleasant would happen, and my mental response would be, "Oh, well," while my emotional response would be, "Oh, gods, WHY??"  And I would wonder, why did that emotional response pair with that mental response?  They don't fit together.  And of the two of them, the mental response seemed a more appropriate and accurate reflection of the event that triggered it; the emotional response seems over-the-top and uncalled for.  And that kind of thing kept happening over and over again.

Eventually I began to realize that one of my worst fears about this experiment seemed to be coming to pass.  I was clearly depressed, that much was obvious.  And it seemed likely that this was another of those backlash chemical depressions that have followed any and every intoxication I've experienced this past year.

Only one way to be sure.  Have to test the theory.  I hadn't been planning to drink last night, because I didn't want to immediately start off drinking every day again.  My plan is not to have a drink unless there's a good reason.  (And neither "it's Thursday night" nor "I just got home from work" qualify as good reasons to drink.)  But if I had a drink, and the depression and anxiety went away, then I would know that it was definitely chemical withdrawal that caused it.

So I had a shot of tequila.  And immediately felt that dizzy sickness again.  And then I started to feel better.

A little while later, I had another shot.  And then I felt perfectly normal.  No depression, no anxiety.  Nice and relaxed.

So, now I know.  On top of no longer being able to enjoy it the way that I used to, the way that I would like to, I will also have to deal with the fact that any time I take a drink, I am then going to have to deal with a deep depression, for which the only cures are to either let it run its course, however long it takes (days, weeks, months - I've experienced all of those at various points this past year), or to have another drink.

To say that I am discouraged by these findings would be rather an understatement.

Preliminary Results...

Okay, that was not at all what I expected.

I didn't actually know what to expect, exactly, but I had some ideas that seemed plausible and/or probable.  But what actually happened was something I had never even thought of.

For starters, it was a lot harder to actually do than I thought it would be.  Holding a bottle of beer in my hand for the first time in a year, I was surprised by how difficult it was to make myself take a drink.  I assumed I would be jumping right into that bottle.  But I'd been entirely focused on not drinking for an entire year of my life.  And knowing that as soon as I took that first sip, all of that was done, over, finished, made it difficult to do.  I had to intentionally and purposefully bring to an end something that I had invested a lot of time and energy into.  And I had a lot of mixed feelings about that.  It wasn't all happiness and "yeah, I did it!"  It was a lot more "I can't believe it's over" and "am I sure about this?"  It was very strange.  And, as I said, unexpected.

Also unexpected was the degree to which my tolerance has tanked.  I knew that my tolerance would be significantly lower than it was a year ago, but I don't think my tolerance has ever been as low as it is right now.  I was noticeably altered from a half of a beer.  And not just a little bit, either.  It was almost overwhelming.  From a half of a beer.

But the worst thing - and I really never, ever saw this coming - was that I didn't actually enjoy it.  Any of it.  I couldn't find any of the sensations I used to enjoy about it.  It was a wholly different experience now, and I didn't like it.  I just felt dizzy and nauseated.  None of the happiness or relaxation that I've come to expect from alcohol.

I was prepared for the possibility of liking it too much.  It never occurred to me that I might not like it at all.  And I'm finding myself really upset about that.  I liked enjoying alcohol.  And all I wanted to do here was try and learn how to enjoy it in a responsible way.  I never would've done this if I'd known that it was going to completely eliminate my ability to enjoy it at all.

All I wanted to do was try and learn how to drink in moderation.  Not become someone who can't drink, and doesn't want to.

Now what?

Lost Summerisle's Longing...

make your Gift
to The Queen of the May
let the blood run brilliant hot

a boiling Gift
of life-made-death
to bring Light for a New Year to come

sharpen your blade
and polish the stone
for The Queen and Her Kingdom of Sun

let the fires burn bright
three stories high
heat Her throne in the heavens above

drink of Her wine
down to your bones
let the Wild come into you freely

dance naked your Joy
come loud to the stars
Her pleasure move through you completely

drown in the flesh
of lovers all 'round
get lost in Abandon's display

and bathe in the blood
of a Life now re-born
All Hail The Queen of the May