Tag Archives: Feelings

Subsequent To


art Shang Chengxiang

1.

I’m not interested in teaching ways to love or even how to think it up.

2.

I can’t teach you about sacrifice or about how many times we die in this life while we’re alive raging in this deteriorating flesh.

3.

I want the unreasonable and clever aspects of existence to clinch among the goodness and omitted parts of one another.  I want for them to discover the undiscovered.

I want to be taught and be on the receiving end of the million and one things I don’t know like why roses guard themselves by using thorns or why immortality comes on slow but heavy with disdain.

4.

I won’t allow others to share my prayer rug with me if I love in greater ways than them for I would be unfulfilled at an uneven heel feeling the disgust of unjust.

5.

I don’t want to feel less is more when it’s impossible for me to give in smaller amounts as I evolve.

-Pennington

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An Open Letter to Indifference


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It took me a good length of time to warm up to your hands and be open to your kiss. I never imagined the day. That one time when we took time off from seeing one another – a month and a half – I had far-reaching sentiments wrapped in a box with ribbons that glowed of reasonable expectations and hopes. I loved you.

And on that altered afternoon when I came to visit, I went with every intention to slowly pull away the gift wrap that was you – emotionally speaking. I fancied to display how much I missed you and your darling face and your scent I consider home. I looked forward to quality time and a world of welcoming love same as usual. And perhaps it was my mistake – expecting you to always be on the identical page as mine? We were disconnected.

And my eyes were wide open to your loud actions and your words failed me because they were of a sexual nature and your hands no longer defaulted to being warm. They were indifferent now. And with an energy of a wolf, you came onto me and unwrapped my clothes with hungry claws leaving me bared for a moment just enough to capture the view of the voluptuous latina you glared as feast.

You walked me to your white door and pinned me against it with heavy aggression and kissed me with the same force with a tiny dollop of love inside your breath. And you groped every part of my meat and ate from it as if you were in a state of panic, of pure desperation, of a teenaged boy whose hormones got the best of him – just like a wolf taking over its prey.

And boy, I wish I left. I wish I could take my heart out my chest and stomp it onto the ground until there wasn’t a beat left – how it hurt like the day I was five years old and my mother first broke my heart with parental neglect. Because between loving you and the three hour trip it took to travel made even my thoughts feel small until they disappeared like smoke, like white lies, like happily ever afters.

And in this instance, you didn’t understand – how my sensible feelings have changed and how they buried themselves in deep despair and how anger created a shift in perspective; how these sentiments were relentless and at the same token – unforgiving. You didn’t realize the crime being committed; the way I was dramatically falling out of love with you; how this time when you cupped my face, kissed me deep and served me pleasure in the bedroom I was gone. I checked out emotionally and felt like freedom contained in the wind.

It was easy to become the watcher and observe from the outside in how you made me feel – like a woman selling herself off Hunts Point Avenue, like friends with lewd benefits. There was a dangerous courage in your behavior because of all the history that came before and will continue after us. I’m in disbelief and I can never feel the same way about us again. However, this has been a long winded way of saying: I’m not a maximus call.

-Pennington

Unoccupied yet Occupied


work_in_progress

The internal struggle is real. So I believe, within my struggle. For months I’ve been battling and fighting and influencing and along the way I’ve made some mistakes all the while raising my head as lofty as the Statue of Liberty. Only to get fired by the place in which I worked for over 5 years. It’s finalized and it’s severed and within it’s severance I’ve learned many different things to the parts of a story.

Like for one, being in denial of how one really feels about any given situation. How does one center themselves in the midst of what they truly don’t want to consider because they suppose that actually feeling within the moment will turn to perpetual weakness? Or how much of what we do in the present and future stems from our past childhoods? For example: I cringe at unfairness and this is derived from being treated unfairly as a child.

Moving on if you follow the series of my thoughts: Perhaps it’s better and clever to give an oath to being silent and perform character assassination rather than stand up with pride on your side and give your two cents on how to resolve operations or how to fix the unfairness in the face of favoritism and being human?

It seems that silence is golden and silence is taken more seriously and silence is safe and silence means that one day when you finally decide to speak up that somebody may listen to you attentively with one head tilted to the right the way they used to when they stopped listening because you’ve opened your mouth too much but only because it was encouraged. But perhaps they encouraged for manipulative reasons?

Or maybe it’s ridiculous to believe that an idealist can be practical in the world of business and where realism is concern, that there isn’t a place for such majestic and honest principles?

Perhaps it’s better to turn the other way and remain silent and follow the herd because being a leader means standing alone and standing alone means everyone is against you at a certain point in time because they lack the courage you have because they don’t have a big bite or enough fight because they wouldn’t put their job on the line like you would.

All this is why I’ve been fired.

-Pennington