When you know you performed dirty. When each step feels as if you’re by it’s mercy. When the stretch becomes unbearable as another person’s thinking. When you’re wincing like something kinky. But you like the pain. You worship the ache. And you speak about it to everyone so you can own and grow with it. You’re the Master of your Domain. So you poke. You stroke. And you knead hoping you’ll bleed. And you finalize the feeling by squeezing down like a clamp with your bare fingers digging in for gold and afflicted victory.
When every swelling, pulse and voluminous beat come from below the belt, right behind the knee. When your heart is somewhere else other than where it should be. When you do something that is out of character like Hope the spasm you feel won’t cramp during the slumber Charlie Horse of night. And if during the day someone bumps your shoulder you would just pass on the fight while coming to terms of the decision between a Yolk or a few Egg Whites.
When you have an obsession that’s hard to manage because your mind can’t let it go. It’s your inspiration, the reason why you live, the structure of your art, your Bio. When you must calm training an area down but definitely OD on another as if you discovered a better lover. When the Gastroenemius has taken on a beast of it’s own. And now I must weather the aftermath “Muscle Fever” until the storm quiets in the Hard Candy of my Zone.
Right now I feel sick.
I have dizzy spells. Hallucinating out of the corner of my eye. Colors blend together without an explanation as to what shape has just disappeared. I walk up a flight of short stairs, and instantly my muscles are achy and tender. Not to mention I so happen to be short of breath. I’m fatigued. I feel nauseous. I’m antsy like a pansy, full of jumpy nerves as I try to entertain the world and myself with jokes, laughter and puzzling thoughts. Or my favorite pulling the kind of energy only a full raging yellow cheese bus with school children can. Except I do it out my ass ever so dearly. If, a person didn’t know any better they would presume I’m fucking pregnant. And I can assure you I’m not.
But what the fuck is going on? There are times when my appetite suffers. There are even more times when it sky rockets. My good old bastard friend who nobody desires like Cortisol..the Ghrelin Monster appears. My body craves for sugar in the way a man fancies to release the tension coming from his snug testicles. The inside of my mouth becomes dry like a woman who hasn’t received enough foreplay. I’m lightheaded as a case of fasting (or depending on one’s perspective) intentionally starving oneself. And I wish this would all go away.
I don’t know what it is about sleep I don’t like beforehand. I like dreams. Both Lucid or Wet. They symbolize something deeper than what my conscious can ever imagine. Yet there are a few things I know about sleep that makes it gloriously friendly such as: Sleep being beneficial like breakfast or an Unlimited Metrocard in New York City. Sleep helps the body fight, recover (muscles) and heal illnesses. Sleep keeps your body’s metabolism working correctly. Sleep is the real milk where it does the body good. The True Lifesaver; the one thing that probably could never ever do your body harm. For Christ Sake you can die heavenly right in peace with sleep. I believe not a thing in the world can beat that. Or could it? Sweet natural death.
So, why do I have problems getting to bed? Even when I fantasize about my plush toys, one too many fluffy/rigid pillows, fan blowing my hair like a supermodel at a significant shoot and the protection between the four walls of my room with a comfy mattress that has lovingly accepted every fluctuation of my chameleon body shape. Why is it so hard for me to creep into bed and just FUCKING sleep? Is it due to the noise in my head? How gifted the commotion comes to life like Killer Clowns from Outer Space? I’m not sure. But one thing is certain with me. Once I close my eyes and try to breath all the troubles into the seams of my blankets I’ll remain greedily asleep as long as my body needs.
how many relationships could we
have saved along the way
if we forgave,
within the present
taken time out to tear off our ears
and put them against the voice and mind
of the speaker
become a watcher
avoid selfish love and convenience
of seeking pleasure
treat you like a real person
spring you alive right inside
when I sit to sympathize
and fill in your boots to empathize
open our arms
wide as laughter and full smiles in a room of alcoholics at a bar
polishing your every dream on a star
I’m here, always, as your friend
I will support
encourage and lend
my warmest courtesy
to help you improve
and set you straight
because it behooves me not to
and even when the world betrays you
at the darkest hour
I’ll be here, queue, for you,
Written after regaining a friendship
Excuse the uh’s.
I mean, what else can I say during pauses? *Someone ballsy shouts off in the dark distance from the land of pure absence and states SAY NOTHING!* Uh’s can get pretty annoying. Surely I’m aware of this. And at the same time a round of a FUCK YOU goes out to that person who prefers for me to keep shut rather than voice an Uh. Hah!
I wonder if I could ever get used to whipping up one of these silly videos more often. I’ve done some Training Videos in the past. But they weren’t good at all! Just one working set of an exercise. I’m not video/edit smart nor am I truly confident on anything live…so I tell myself.
Awkward, no?! I think YES!
I also did another Video for my Xanga blog. And if anyone could guess one thing different (besides the most obvious!) about the two videos.. I’ll give you a prize. Name it! Warning: May the prize be appropriate, cheap or free. I kid!