memory of fingertips brushing my cheek like a wind blown across a desert memory of lips pressed against mine like a luscious mango on my mouth memory of heat lying next to me like the sun's rays on my skin just a memory I remember studying the lines in your hair when you rested your head on my chest I remember how you smelled I remember how you laughed I remember what you said I can't forget how could I forget? just a memory but it's a memory that won't go away ------ If our lives were books And we each wrote our own chapters To tell the story of our love How would you portray me? How would you say we met? What details would you share With our readers? Would you tell them how you felt When we kissed...? Or maybe you would rather not Tell the tale Maybe I would be a footnote A reference in the bibliography That no one Ever Reads... Now that the story's over... How will you tell it? Oh be kind, love, be kind I'm not using any words In my book It only has one page And it only has your picture And a few little tear stains On the edge... ------ I'm a historian And this, my latest chapter On the long, bloody war It's my job to tally the dead To make record of the loss This one Just another body on the battlefield And my face is on each corpse Some look surprised All of them died in agony I say that I'm a historian But really, I know no one will Read my works For, as they say, The winners write the histories And that surely is not me. ------ Ice slowly melting And my lips upon your lips Spring hopes eternal ------ There is not a doubt in my mind - I know that it's love. I know because every time I think of her, I feel an incredible strength enter me. Just knowing that she is in the world makes me feel utterly rich and totally alive. I want to write the story of our love across the entire sky in impossibly high letters of fire. I would turn the universe into a love letter and fill it with the visions of beauty I see in her, and let it stand for all time as a testament of devotion. I cannot help but adore her. I want to fall into her gaze, dive inside her and nestle myself at the center of her soul... for it is the center of all things. I know this with all my heart. ------ loving you is like gazing at the moon caught by your beauty you seem so far away love and fear they're always so near like agony and ecstasy such terror and such awe I never knew only with you loving you is like staring at the sun blinded by your kindness you warm me with a tender touch I know why they call it falling in love we've climbed so high that I'm afraid to look down what can I do I'm so in love with you ------ bitter and sweet like the deepest darkest chocolate black and hard and crumbly when I chew it like the inside and outside of an orange biting through the peel and the fruit all at once my love is so bitter and so sweet like smiling through the tears in my eyes the bitter sweet salty tears --------- in the morning's early light there is no color but your eyes are shining bright in black and white in black and white in the morning's frigid clutch there is no comfort but your caress warms me so much I love your touch I love your touch was it a dream I had? or was it really real? it's only been some hours but it seems like oh so long ago in the morning's reminisce there was no time from your lips a tender kiss sweet parting bliss sweet parting bliss --------- Black asphalt parched white by salt and cold Rolling road wobbles beneath And the empty sky stretches overhead Is there anything lonelier than an open road? A road alone Never turning, ever reaching for horizon's end Twists and curves you didn't expect All the landmarks look the same What did that sign say? I wonder how far I can go Before the road ends... --------- like night, the color of your hair satin black with a sheen of moonlight that danced upon the waves I would dip my hands into that pool and stir the waters with my fingertips and make my own waves but I cannot grasp this I cannot reach for this it slips through my fingers will it always be this way? will it? --------- Some time ago, I heard an interview with one of the first patients to receive the AbioCor artificial heart on the radio. When asked "how do you feel?", the man made an observation that has stuck with me in the time since, something that keeps bubbling up to the surface of my thoughts and tends to freak me out a little. It was a simply logical thing to say, and it was a purely innocent comment, but the implications of it continue to make me feel strange sometimes. What it boils down to: having your heart replaced means no longer having a pulse. Now, if you took your fingers right now and put them on your neck or wrist, you'd feel the thrumming of the blood moving through your body. If you did something strenuous, you'd feel your body compensating; your heart would pound. If you sat perfectly still and contemplated the presence of your body, you might feel throbbing at your fingertips or hear the ocean of rushing blood in your ears. If you placed your head on your lover's chest, you would be able to feel his or her heartbeat. In your most intimate moments pulsing may be the only thing you can feel... Imagine now that instead of those sensations, all you had was a constant, low-level whirring inside you. A pump sits in the center of your torso and pushes your blood around at a constant rate. Your life is controlled by a machine, moreso like the tick of a clock than the will of a tide. Some days it feels like this is a perfect description of my emotional life right now. Instead of having a pulse, I now only have a whirring. How do I feel? Flat. Empty. Bored. Neutral. Unsatisfied. Grey. Lonely. And tired. ------------------ It occurs to me that all I've ever wanted is to be able to look into someone's eyes, tell them all is right with the world, and have them believe me. ------------------ Some days the floor just falls right out from under you. One minute you feel fine, maybe even better than fine, and then BAM, you're done. Suddenly you're rehashing the past or wishing for a better present or pining for a future that isn't likely to happen. You thought you were doing okay, but now it looks like you weren't. What can you do when you're faced with the bleak truth of your existence? You're alone. You're unwanted. Your subscription to the online matchmaking service is nearly expired, after a year of unsuccessful non-dating. Stupid TV shows make you all weepy with their melodrama, and you actually RELISH that because at least you've got an outlet for your emotions. Almost all of your friends have somebody - why don't you? Nothing cuts you deeper than your own doubt. What if you aren't good enough for anybody? Now poison the edge of that blade with lingering fears of mortality. Will you die alone? Then you let that wound fester and you start to wonder how long you can go on like this. You know that life is worth living. There are still plenty of other things to experience and accomplish. Better to have loved and lost? Maybe if you had never loved you wouldn't know how much better those experiences and accomplishments can be when you can share them with someone that loves you. One thing missing. Just one thing, at once the most important and yet the easiest to do and the hardest thing to hold onto. Just love. That's all. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ leaves are now falling soon we will enter winter much too long 'til Spring ---------- Grey is the color of loneliness. Grey, because the world becomes flat and colorless when you are by yourself. Everything is blurred together into a single day, a single place, a featureless expanse of nothingness. Barren, like your heart is barren. Empty, like your soul is empty. No ups or downs. No worries or hopes. It is simply existence, existing simply. It is not death, not the blackness of oblivion; but it is the anti-life, for nothing is still something you can have. And that is what I have. Greyness. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ To be in love would be like rescue from an untimely and undeserved end. There is nothing worse than the absolute desolation of misery and doubt, no fouler hell than the desperate constructions of a lonely mind. All I can do is call to her; escape can only come when she acknowledges me, sees through the bars, and hands me the key. I pray that I will never get used to being alone, for that too would be a sad little death. I can picture myself a dusty old thing, sitting in a dusty forgotten corner, thinking dusty worn thoughts. Surrounded by the objects I confer my love to - or perhaps by pets (cats, I think) who become my surrogates. What kind of life can you live by yourself? Who dares to face the rest of their days with no one beside them? I have loved before. I know what I have lost. The idea of loving again keeps me breathing. Hope lives somewhere inside me, hidden too well sometimes. But she is a fragile thing. She ventures out rarely, for fear of being crushed accidentally... or intentionally, god forbid. She bears many scars, having been injured so frequently in recent times, not realizing they "were totally clear" about their feelings (they all seem to think that, true or not). It's so hard to keep trying when it's plain they don't want me as I am. I know there must be someone who can appreciate me, some one in a million. That's what they all keep saying anyways. "Someone will be lucky to have you." That someone must not be too lucky, considering she hasn't found me yet. My kingdom for a horse. Pathos is so unbecoming. It is such a simple desire, the desire to love. I want my soul to melt in my love's mouth like chocolate. To utterly dissolve into a blissful liquidity, and spread warmly through her like the sun bathing the world in life-giving rays of love and peace. Love would be everything to me. All I want is everything. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ flat on my back eyes to the skies stars in my head fall off the world into the inky night ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Do you ever consider why that certain song moves you that certain way? Or why the light shines from that window at just the right angle at that particular time of day? Have you ever looked up at the sky? Is it any wonder that there is love in the world? ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ in a whisper of your breath I heard the truth in a quiet corner, all alone I tasted bittersweetsalty tears beneath the curtain of night I felt your gaze upon my back in a moment of ecstasy I saw myself in you ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ the crystalline trees sway back and forth in the wind their branches break off ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ glittering snowflakes trapped in the glowing streetlight suspended in air ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I see it coming from the corner of my eye horizon of spring ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ A heart breaking feels like an emptiness inside so full of nothing 01/29/01 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ trees are fat with snow dizzy, giddy little flakes that drift slowly down 01/09/01 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ they are grey and lonely places the cold spaces of my heart dank and dim, small and tight empty holes, split apart I can't live in them any more I need to fan the embers that hide deep inside stoke the coals, stir the ashes to burn and yearn I can't find the way myself confused and frustrated betrayed by self-doubt spinning my wheels, digging my heels pain within, sorrow without I can't I can't have what I need most 12/30/00 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The waves pound the shore, the crashing surf spills onto the sand, and the horizon stretches out into infinity. Sunset again, and this time the clouds spread out across the sky in an explosive pattern of violet and crimson. I'm sitting on a dune overlooking everything. Tall grasses sway at the urging of a stiff and salty ocean breeze. I have to clutch myself a little more tightly. The feeling of smallness is always overpowering when witnessing the majesty of an ocean. Even more so when the sun leaves us to slip again into its cold embrace. Another day, another dollar... another step closer to the inevitable. Where did the time go? Did I accomplish anything? What did I learn today? There are always more questions than answers. With more than a little sadness, I bid farewell to this time, and promise that I will remember fondly the colors and the beauty revealed to me at the end of the day, and that I will not think too often about the small miseries encountered before then. So one day ends... and soon, another will begin. The sun sinks ever so gently into the sea. --4/27/2000 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ "Where the hell did my life go?" Wherever you left it. If you lost it, you have to go out and find it. When you do find it, all you have to do is pick it up again. You might think this sounds way too simple and too trite, but it's the god's honest truth. You just have to get out and live your life. Get a new guitar, get a new trombone and start playing again. I reconnected with everything I thought I lost over the last few years. I've been trying new things and meeting new people. I go out with friends almost every night, every chance I get. I changed the direction my life was going in, changed my diet and lost weight, changed my perspective and found myself. The secret of life is to live it. There is nothing stopping you from doing so except yourself. --4/17/2000 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I'm overwhelmed by the beauty of promised renewal. The world is returning... the treetops are slowly blossoming with color, as if someone were turning up the dial on a black and white tv picture. Greens and reds and yellows replace the stark monochrome of the last six months. The air is fresh, almost ripe with the richness of earth and rain. Winds blow with awesome strength, and cast dead branches down to the ground. Fat and cold raindrops fall into the large puddles that the soil can't gulp down fast enough. I wish I could share everything I'm feeling with everyone better than these words can express... but I don't think it's possible. --4/9/2000 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ i can't read these letters the words pick at my soul time is no salve for me the wounds they will not heal please have mercy on me i need your amnesty i have no place to turn i have nothing left to burn the world is cold and still and the tears are slowly freezing i am tied down i have no breath this is a battleground there is no purpose yet deep inside i feel the fire scorch me raw from within where is the gentle beauty why can i no longer rest i can't stop moving i am not in control the past is dead and gone god help me end this pain the world is burning turning hot tears run down my cheeks take a good long look i'm better off but i'll never be better --3/14/2000 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ it's only words and memories a little bit of everything a soul and a soul what's left to hold? hearts and swords opposite the past is a measure of the future the past is nothing similar cups and coins where can i go? nothing into the everything it's only memories and words 2-14-2000 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ the memory of you is all i have left a whisper of your voice ghostly fingers, cold breath i stroke the air as though you were there trying to remember your shape it is all i have left and it is everything to me i find you in dreams lips that kissed softly eyes closed gently skin on skin, your body pressed close to mine a memory of love i wish it were enough... 2.12.00 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ endings, beginnings memories in the middle it's snowing again... 2.3.00 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ There is a world of dreams that exists just beyond my reach. Fragments of hope drift slowly down to me from a sky full of infinite possibility. Most of them pass me by, most of them fall away to whatever dark place dreams settle into. Once in a very long while, I manage to snatch one as it flutters past - and I wake with a small memory of that world so far away from what is real. It may be for the best that I don't remember all of my dreams. I am forced to appreciate the meager bits I am able to scrounge, I must make feasts of bread crumbs. It is sometimes easier to do this than it seems. Sometimes the dreams are like sweet chocolates, and I melt them slowly in my mouth, trying to savor them as long as I can. But then there are the dreams of things that can never be - those are the bitterest pills. Yet I cannot stop them; and they are the ones I catch most often. There is no way to describe the taste of regret. We are cruelest to ourselves, those who dare to dream... 12-19-1999 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ A subtle kind of light lingers quietly in the angle between the ceiling and the wall, half-shadow and hazy like a corner of my mind. There are no edges; there are only transitions between darkness and brightness, between conscious and unconscious. Merciful sleep will not come to me, tired as I am. There is no peace in this fitful slumber, there is no hiding from myself. The clock taunts me again and again, displaying unreasonable numbers when I start awake and look at it. Am I asking for too much? I suppose that's too much to ask as well. I would give anything for a night of rest. A return to peace. I would unmake the world and rebuild it, if I only knew how. I can't change the past. I can't make anything right. I can't stay where I am, and I can't go forward. So many things I can't do, and so few things I can... I can feel myself dissolving inside... a little bit more goes away every day. How long until there's nothing left, I wonder? I wonder... 12-08-1999 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The world looks more real in the rain. I don't know why. I'm sure it has something to do with the way light is filtered down through the clouds; or maybe it's because the raindrops change the character of the air; or maybe when the sky is grey, your surroundings stand out in relief... the reasons don't really matter. When it's raining, you can see more clearly. Colors pop out (especially today, especially in the Fall, leaves and autumn colors drop out of the sky), and shapes and lines gain more definition. The earth smells rich and alive, and everything is a lot more beautiful, in general. This would all be fine and dandy if the rain wasn't so goddamn depressing. If it rains too much or for too long, it begins to eat away at your soul. And it can become very harsh - and very, very cold. When the sun is in the sky, everything washes out - there's too much sunlight, too much brightness. And yet, this is the normal condition of the world; overwhelming light that softens the edges of the world, and hides the true nature of the things around us. Sure, it's warm and inviting when the sun is out; you get comfortable, but you forget what the world really looks like. So tell me... what's better? Is it better to have the rain and live in the world as it truly is, or is it better to have the sun and live in a less real world? ADDENDUM --------- A lot of folks have mentioned publicly and in email that they don't think rain is depressing - I tend to agree. Rain is very beneficial 95% of the time, and is very necessary and rejuvenating and all that. The metaphor above refers to consistent rain. I don't find sporadic or even closely periodic rainfall depressing... but if it rained every day for a month, or for several months, I'd be very adversely affected. I've just been thinking a lot today about how closely related rain and truth are. They both reveal. They both cleanse (sometimes harshly). And large doses of both can be very depressing. 10-20-1999 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ One can find his or her mortality in the least likely place. I'm reading _Hyperspace_ by Michio Kaku, a layperson's book on Kaluza-Klein theory (or superstring theory), which talks about higher dimensions of space and time. Stuff that sounds like science fiction, but physicists are finding more and more that wormholes and time travel and hyperspace are really more fact than fiction. Anyway, one of the themes the author keeps talking about is the death of the universe, and how it *may* be possible to escape the death of the universe through hyperspace, escaping into the higher, six dimensional universe in the final moments of the Big Crunch. And I think, in inimitable Keanu-Reeves-style epiphany, "Whoa. The universe is going to die someday. It might be inescapable. Bummer." But then I get sober and realize, hell, it's not like I'll ever get that far anyway. And the angst kicks in... Stupid science. Og want ignorance. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.