Thoughts #2

I was between sleeping and waking the other day, I had a serious debate as to whether I had killed someone. Or at least disposed of a body. I couldn’t remember killing anyone, but disposing of a corpse logically follows that, and that I could remember.  The anxiety of someone discovering the secret was overwhelming. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt more paranoid… And it wasn’t even real.

Do I not take life as seriously as I should? Is there a graded scale for such a thing? I feel as though everything’s easier with graphs and scales and equations.  Even if I don’t fully understand them, just seeing things represented thusly makes them feel simpler, more manageable, more knowable.

I hate pulling the nihilist card, but there’s so much I don’t know and so much I can’t know that it does seem overwhelming pointless to try and discover or try things.  But then I always grow tired of the monotony that accompanies not exploring my life and this world. And so I try new things for a bit, until I’m overwhelmed.

Maybe it’s my lack of focus. Which isn’t so much jumping from one thing to the next, it’s a constant step backwards to look at the whole of my existence and wondering what sort of person is this making me? What sort of person does this?  It’s the neutral answers that give me grief. “People do this, most people in fact, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” The things that aren’t inherently wanted or unwanted by the person I’ve become.


Thoughts #1

I feel as though I’ve always thought too much. My mind races when it’s unoccupied with tasks, either significant or menial, and there are things I contemplate that may seem to be odd fixations, or plausible fears, but in an attempt to share some of myself, these are the thoughts and questions that cross my unburdened mind today…

Statements that are unprovable, yet plausible:

There are exactly 5 colors that no one can see.

Plants have frequencies of communication that we can’t hear. Every time I mow my lawn there is silent screaming. Every flower I pick gives a last gasp before dying.

I die every time I fall asleep and a new version of myself is born whenever I wake up.

Everyone else sees the world in a different manner than I do.

Everyone else doesn’t exist.

That this life is Heaven and I don’t appreciate it enough.

That this life is Hell and I don’t appreciate it enough.

That I can’t feel the full spectrum of emotions.

That I’ve missed what could have been the happiest moment of my life.

That I won’t matter after I die.

That I don’t matter before I die.




I’ve been twitching lately,

My muscles acting of their own will.

First in my temple,

Then in my fingers,

Lastly, mid-back.

I told my doctor of the first.

“Would you like to do anything about it?”

No, no. I’ll see if it goes away.

I sat and stared at the second,

Feeling a helplessness and anxiety,

But ever confident in hope.

The third is crippling,

And my thumb still twitches in time with my heartbeat.

I am still but a moment

And hope always returns

Only to fall on glimmering rocks

Of reality and to abide a rhythmic aberration.




I hope to share more of myself this way. Hence the #1 in the title. Until then, unless my muse strikes a different chord.




A Sojourn in December

We had our first snow today.
When I first saw it,
I halfheartedly smiled from my position,
Peaking from the curtain
Draped next to an occupied bed.

Giant white flakes cover the ground and sky,
And I don’t mind.  The light
They reflect and the way they dance
Gives troubled minds a sense of ease.

And as the frigid day wears on,
The falling ceases just as it started,
With me under warm blankets,
And they finally finding peace
After a long winter’s journey.

A Gentle Breeze

The summers are hot and the winters are cold,

But during the interim seasons

I’ll brave the morning air on my porch,

To see if a gentle breeze calls for a jacket.


Mind you, spring breezes and autumn winds,

Are of no comparison,

Except that they signify the changing seasons,

Nothing more. A reminiscence upon these,

Fills my soul with emotions

From the seasons of my life, long since past.


The spring breeze…

How it brings warmth into the timber,

Patiently waiting behind my house,

Waking the vines in my vineyard.

Life finds pleasant surroundings again,

Where swift updrafts carry frisbees and footballs

Into the mouths of dogs or the arms of children,


This invisible current, ever so slightly

Shifts your hair out of place,

Just so I can fix it and be repaid,

With your never ending Love.


The autumn wind….

Chilling the air, telling the world,

Go to sleep, as it creeps. Lulling trees and vines

Into a gentle winter respite.

Death clings to the life summer has brought,

And the wind gently caresses tufts of fur

On deceased beasts and overpriced coats.

Seemingly out of respect,

This brisk zephyr, in a beautiful fashion,

Makes the flowers on my family’s graves dance,

As if my reverence overwhelms their spirits

And their souls flit in the wind.


I think I’ll bring my jacket today,

Just to be safe.


A Beating Heart

There are times

I feel as if I were your beating heart,

Constant, steady, but worn down.

And lately, it seems

Like you’ve slit your wrists,

Deep, with a blade of little consequence.

Blood, Life, pumps from me,

Traveling to your extremities

And is lost in this rhythmic continuation.

I give and I give,

With my efforts only securing

Our grim fate.

I falter, I fail,

And without knowing why,

We fade out of time,

And into oblivion.

Together in Love

For the lonliness, my life has brought me

Acceptance and regret indefinite,

Until the ends of this brief temporal span,

Until the ends of this world intertwine.


For the Love, seen in her eyes every morning,

Means more than words, more than emotion.

And an unending bliss lights my soul,

And her light shines through as would a keyhole to heaven.


And I miss you, I say, knowing the inadequacy,

Of the words in their quaint little order,

Of myself and my love and my strength.


I miss you too, she says,

Not implying a greater emotion,

Not feeling pity or lament at the distance,

But to be with me, in word,

And to be with me, in spirit,

And to be together, in Love,