leave these four rigid walls
stop the madness
that dwells on the edge
disregard gray clouds
and slicing rain
in search for a film
that screams fuck mainstream
where acting a skill
directing a fine art
to draw upon the elderly
to seduce a lady in her youthful hoodie
who believes she’s forty plus
but who’s only thirty
a new place
down to escalator
to marvel at the boring appeal
overcomes growls of Fasting hours
and with every heave
a pleasure of self-abuse demand of
delayed onset muscle soreness
commands everything about present time
unbundled the nerves
undress the warmth indoors
scout the audience, small screen
sit amongst strangers
who share a common interest in
Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung
a shoe brushed and nudged my arm
I took it sexual as the innuendo
of the film have gave way
to a yearning of the subconscious
from two parts, kindred spirits
connected by a quick beginner glare
and a sudden betrayal of my back
how in front I sat
like a dream
to be on a set with David Cronenberg
to take on characters
who speak with doctor sophistication
relish in the swell intoxication
of gigantic vocabulary
are one with creative forces
I start thinking
how stimulating one can be
in the Now of existence
even with moments shared alone
easily slip away
when there isn’t time to create
hand to pen and paper
to know of a thing
to be consumed by the things you Hate
is a promise to being It tomorrow.
I’ve done the taking back of my emotional loyalty, which is definitely not to be confused with emotional outbursts. These outbursts are what has long been the breaking points of dealing with the same person day in and day out without any true change in behaviors.
Think stone cold resentment.
Can a person forgive and forget?
Or do they only choose to forgive?
As they lie on their back completely open
With regrets on never forgetting?
What about the snaky image? The pesky perception you can’t drive, not even to bump over the road? Is this the smell of fear? The rotten insecurities that halt your progress of personal growth and wanting to make it all up to the person you can’t live without?
I don’t speak of I silly. Of you.
But it’s that conversation I start, the same exact about you.
Where I ask you something like, “What steps are you taking to achieve what need be?”
And you respond with three words: “What about you?”
With the snakebite of defense mechanism.
The bitching, the moaning, the nonstop bickering. It’s never over anything significant. I hear the same old. There isn’t anything at the least bit striking, but the same old. So he doesn’t like the men or boys I play with regularly in my life. Yet makes the same jokes, opening the same wounds with those exact men in my life.
There’s nothing humorous about pain.
Not the lies. Not the cover.
Wanting to believe what comes out a person’s mouth is as simple as the action executed.
What’s to say about the anti-social person, who must learn how to deal and communicate with someone who has already covered a lot of ground experience?
There are some people who get mad at themselves for being in a relationship too long. I know how this feels. But the remedy is in learning the mistakes you made yesterday are for a better place in a wiser tomorrow.