Hey there Teacher, with the faltering step and the windblown hair. What’s the story all about, the one you told from the side of your mouth. Where honesty met a curve, tongue lolled to one side and spilled out some verbs. I know it’s tough to turn the glass, that shining mirror which overwhelms the past. Where bullshit shines greasy like sludge, and all the distortions are gone, back to the mud.
Hey there Teacher, with the drugs in your system and cheap sex on your brain, Do you remember when you stopped learning and just sought out pain? Stopped spitting out wisdom and bought your own lies? I know you know the system and how it all spins, I didn’t think you one who would cheat to win. Thieving and twisting until your charm is clear, problems abound but you never paused to hear. Words and actions meant to help and soothe all your fears but you were too deaf and I was too near. Fucked up actions that caused all the pain, hell you admitted the abuse from your side but then changed the game. Cut out the bullshit and tell it all true, I’ll try the straight route and see what you do.
I cheated – when I thought things were open, so you fucked three more guys and used sex as a weapon. I hurt you with words – called you freeloader and more, you called me a psycho, a piece of shit, pathetic, and evened the score. I didn’t make changes in the ways that I should have, didn’t take the time to address my behavior in the ways that I could have. Stopped taking my meds to test out a theory, that I wasn’t so crazy just misinterpreting the scenery. I didn’t have the courage to stand by my gut, so I broke like a loser and washed myself free of blood in the cut. I didn’t trust you completely and thought it was trash, an actress putting on skins and a falsified past. I actively ignored you and left you to your own devices, was bitter and hateful and often times spiteful. All the while I bent the world to help you realize your dreams, pulled out the stops, went into debt without question, begged on street corners when shit went south even though I wanted to scream. Started school, accepted disabilities, got a job, begged my family, all to put food in our mouths. I changed my approach a thousand and one ways, became more patient, understanding, sought to attain empathy, sympathized, recognized, and upended my reality, all so that I could spend time with you for some much needed days. When I asked for time and some space to calm down, you pushed, poked, and prodded – gaslit me all over town. You had me fooled for so long that I lost who I was, abused me emotionally, mentally, and then called it love. When push came to shove at the end, long past due, asked to be friends then found something to fuck with again, even if it’s true. So I snapped and said I was done and that it was all dead as could be ever blocked you like I’m supposed to and wished this would all blow over. I’d forgiven you for everything, moved past it into the future where I saw smiling people and less lies. Then you guinea pigged me and question why I lashed back, you robbed me digitally for the last of my stack – the money I sent you strings free the week before when I still had nothing, might as well have been burned. The cops could have put you in jail, they have your license plate number now–watch out for that tail. I asked them to drop charges and they said they would, my comment was, “she’s in a horrible situation and deep down she’s all good.“ But then I find you spewing hate all over my safe place, the one outlet I find online. Evidence says your besmirching me everywhere at this point, reaching out to other exes and raising unnecessary hell all over this joint, trying to get my goat got – and I understand that’s just fine. So realize that while you’re smoking that next bowl, hooked on the shit and getting tagged for it on the down low, I’m happier now for a month then I have been since I met you, not intended as a stab, just honesty, since I look back on our time with regret and much rue. I regret and apologize for all of the fights, we should have never been together, you and I just aren’t right. You were my entire world, believe it or not, and by you my sun set and would rise. Special you wanted to be and special you were, now you are nothing but a nightmare and a thieving cur. And if you want to go fire with fire we’ll both of us burn, don’t make me reopen charges and shine a light on your emotional spurn – meth, dick, deceit and theft, you’re the one no one should trust, hell, I shouldn’t have for a second and I hate that I still feel like I must. So go lay in the gutter all filled with hate, funny how it rings so loudly as manipulative a classic NPD emotional quake. Fuck your intolerant and misjudging voice, you’ve slandered my ass far too often to care, but that was your choice, I learned enough from you and I’m done with the lessons, you speak pretty proudly for a someone who treats their latest attachment as a lifelong obsession. Clearly your conscience is clear, there are no places of doubt, I wish you would actually finally cough up your bullshit stories and stop playacting on what this was all about. Shower someone else with a thousand dull points, bleed your issues on them till you’re all run dry, except that you don’t want to do anything about them, you don’t even try, you just want the sympathy to help you look good and pure while you endlessly justify. Goodbye for forever, and good luck out there, Please don’t come back into my life, we shouldn’t have married, I was no husband and you were no wife.
Hey there Teacher, with the red eyed face. I made mistakes and fucked up your life and made it all bad, but I thought we made our choices ourselves and shouldn’t be sad? I adored and admired the person you were, but now you use my name like some dirty slur. I won’t darken your days or your nights, all I ask is you get gone and do what is right. Teacher, you’re all that I needed, but it’s time to staunch the wounds and stop the bleeding. Good luck in life, I don’t wish ill on you despite what you’re feeling, I swear, someday, hell, you might even see that I genuinely cared. I found that “me” that I lost, the confidence now to not get talked in circles like a fighter might box. I’ll share my happy with the world with refinement and friends, now that your sickness is gone I can finally breath again. No more second guessing – nothing that won’t make sense, Hell, I’m back on my meds and feeling peace and its wealth. Feeling feelings again that aren’t belittled or kept stealth. I’m free and wished you well while you stole from the bank, no more parasite on my soul and my heart watching and mocking while the ship ran aground and sank. I’m not perfect, I’m deeply and totally flawed, but your hate is misplaced, and your speaking all wrong, if I was more talented I’d try and put it to song. At least then you’d pay attention and might actually have listened, which I didn’t do until it was too late, that’s another fault of mine, an ommission. but that’s ok, it was an error, something I would have changed, a MISTAKE. So Teacher, the class is dismissed and we’re out of session, I’ll end this babbling shit show with some questions. Why is it that you hate me for everything that’s passed? You’ve done just the same, mimicked my every action in fact – each nail you drive home, does it stick also to you? Do you recognize the hypocrisy your hate is laced thick with?
Do you even fucking care to just look at what good times we had as a gift? The only thing left when the love died was respect in what you were – does it hurt to know now that she’s gone, that imaginary incredible girl? The one who says she wouldn’t tell anything but the truth, never be vicious, always patient and would never steal. You’ve broken every value you pretended you had, why am I’m supposed to be the one that leaves this situation feeling terribly bad?
Spacious and widely set are these woven walls stinging nettles wrapped firmly around whipcord center a promise of pliable willow branches, carefully soaked switches cut green, bound in beautifully colored leaves thick with thorns. Laced with the fabric of breath, desire, mystique, keeping the luminescent beyond– –beyond.
However, in those laced moments that the air stirs first languorously, then rising to delight in how it can twist and whirl a joyful movement of shifting scents breeze spraying aside the curtains they, no heavier than dreams. Rolling across the stones laid intricate with care drifting to cross the lone pond. Glassine and undisturbed as puddled silver thickly magick and deeper than deep can be known– –as the air quenches and remakes.
Where tendrilled branches cast ripples, serpentine gashes play at being rivulets of liquid cutting once pristine layers on which reflections lay. Alive and shedding mirrored skin, sloshing possibility and promise as ancient hearts cast aromas in the air, only as decayed wood left to rot can. Dust and brittle powdering husks broken down from their heights to furnish food and fuel that the next generation might cast ramparts of growth riding high on the bones of the Old.
Silently they sit. Gazing down at the scarred and skittering pool, beaming hope in darkly radiant intensity from behind eyes set deep with focus. Reflecting, and wishing fitfully, that as it calms, they will find relief from their personal tempests peace through the restoration of waters returning to their unblemished state.
A cauldron of insight, slickly metallic and alluring where they might at last catch sight of their foes, drag them into the shaded glen, bleed them onto the stones, leave their corpses ragged and torn, that they can be reborn with the changing days.
Blissfully drift into their thoughts unfettered by care, smile indulgently at the colorful cacophony as it unfolds behind their drooping lids, Oh!–what flowers Spring would surely bring.
Obscenity cavern, plastered with fucks, gives rise to the new age raised to bow low keep your head down, duck, tuck and roll. Whispered in stories, like the day it last rained, awash is the removal of freedom from failure, honesty and blame. Turncoats and bastards (that’s what they cry) mirrors twisted and cracking impossibly contorting as futility sighs. At long last there is sense, (though it echoes too loud) in the canyons of absence where each of the dead is everlastingly proud.
Jack-o-lantern grin on a soil soaked face brings a gleam to the eye, sickly off color oceans sweetened with flint surrounding coals sunk deep, always to be diamonds forever unpressed.
Invert your beliefs despite all the tears, blessed by devils to love gruesomely wishful, they call themselves angels sent from above though their stories are fake always spinning tales out of mud.
Shackle that spirit into iron bound blocks, wither your freedom away until it sounds desperately weak with a voice that falls empty on stunted ears and emotions no longer caring, and even pretending.
Blaspheme your values and lay in a trough, where the swine plunder for pleasure dig deep in the mire suckle like beasts on that sick, sweet, distortion, all while minding the cross.
Dangling promises to release your mind, kept partial and broken sentenced to time after time, words carefully chosen to leave you feeling less than divine.
Where the road crosses and breaks in the dark, trails leading past peaceful places handily strewn with spent dreams, delusions of grandeur and half glimpses of faces, all of them wasted, missed chances for safety.
Memories and hopes on the battlefield lost, reclaimed to a tune that warmed off the frost. Singing songs of cast rays from the sun way out there, rainbows breaking on storm’s end embracing adventure, barking laughter, always finding the fun.
Limp and crumpled between all the worlds, a traveler beneath the weight of mental fissures deeply cracking out way beyond where he started his feet land where he was hurled. Giants lurk out there in a mezzanine layer, reality is a sure thing until fact and fiction are swirled.
Rise up and break down those glassy illusions, smash down the oppression (he thinks to himself) that would handily break you under flurried confusion. There’s a joy to be found and happiness born, love to be shared, thoughts to think, great lessons to be learned.
Memories hurt like jagged rocks in the side, but you’ll never go back, forward though not always straight, no matter the rivers rush or how frightening the ride. Loss can stain clothing, grief stain cheeks, but the future is brighter ahead then behind.
Jack-o-lantern grin on a soil soaked face, in mercy you’ll be pulled from the gates, yanked back out of the chaos and dusted off sharply, lips with compassion and renewed desire, lay on you words of beauty and a kiss to inspire.
You’re insides are gone, replaced with a flame, one beautiful fire, let that light be your name.
Where our main characters find themselves journeying apart from each other into adventures and places unknown in the hopes that they will reunite as realized and complete individuals on the other side….so we begin in Reno, NV…..
S & H at Taco Loco
Transcribe the hope I feel into optimism and other such essential stuffs. Imbibe the flow of sweet spirit that drips from off our lips and out our mouths. Believe in dreams meant not to fade even if the road has twisted uglier and uglier still. Hold tight to goals we shared as our footsteps drift further and further apart. We’re still in love, and this journey which so profoundly changed us is not at its end yet – just an interlude.
I’m looking for a flow to spew, to vomit pained fire in words and lyrical nonsense, drench virtual paper in a cascade of feeling, wishing for the release of a moment where my fingertips press onto keys melded into an outpouring of something greater than myself. I’m looking for a rhythm and a cadence, and empty hollow to rest my eyes and heart within where my brain can’t intrude or interrupt where the language is something not of word but made of a noise that comes from deeper down primal and totally absent of definition. I’m looking for a tapping of keys that harmonizes with my feelings and that calms waters boiling over with discontent where monsters lurk and playful creatures breathe imagination as though it were the purest of air carefree in their joy and hungers contented to be their own masters and demanding nothing from anyone. I’m shaking the trees of logic and thought demanding that they un-fucking-root and get on with the business of dying so that chaos can wash over me as a wind of compassion letting me know that the madness is so very real that anything else was a facade and an illusion that its okay and I’ve come home to rest where I belong. I’m lacing myself with poisons to calm the nerves incinerating the memories of dreams never to be realized in pools of chemical passivity bleeding oil into my disquiet shores where the glass and sand are never polished and always cut though they shine like diamonds to lure you in. I’m hunting for a flow, that special moment when time collapses on itself and there is oneness understanding, immutable confidence, and a distant stare connection to more, recognition and awareness, centered peace, consolidated thoughts, pacified emotions, acceptance, and satisfaction. I’m looking for a flow, one that tells me loneliness is temporary, and that the universe is there in all its infinity and splendor ready to skull fuck me back into joy when it feels fit that reminds me there’s no point sulking and being miserable this is the human condition in all its shit stained raimants and that I could be grateful for the ability and opportunity to experience it. I’m looking for a flow, but right now I’m just writing, and there’s no flow to be found.