Inside Isabella at the park.

Liquid snake is common compare,
The river beneath the milk puddled blue.
Joy soaks all the green that grows,
in hedges, lengthy strides and by rows.
Here I watch the ever present of growth
Here I see the catalyzing mystery,
of what comes next.
Along the banks of of proud water,
scales made from ripples,
a mirrored surface refracting radiance,
royal and haunted eye azure to dazzle.
A bewitching tone of cerulean
as you would see skull mounted
to the face of a person of purest pale.
Baby, wouldn’t you take the briefest of moments,
to pause, to break the doldrums of repetition.
To slither our bodies the distance across
and along that charmed prism of color.
We can be washed clean
of the need for forgiveness,
though we might beg abruptly,
for the sky to open,
and cleanse us in the love of yesteryears.
When trouble was nothing but childsplay,
whispered dreams were sought and chased.
found, pursued and realized.
We would go floating,
Bucolic and serene on tides of hope.


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A Road Home

Love under the moon.

A note from Skye: at a juncture in our relationship where I had left the woman who is now my wife behind to go on a callously stupid and ill-fated journey elsewhere, she inscribed a note on the blackboard I have inside the roof of my truck (then my home). She wrote me, “Never forget, that home is where the heart is.” Despite going through terrible fights and challenges as I lost my mind following a tearful reunion and after our marriage which eventually led to my diagnosis of schizoaffective, she has remained a constant presence and holds my soul, mind, and thoughts to a more serene path than I have ever imagined to be possible. It isn’t easy for either of us sometimes, but in honor of the forthcoming holiday and a desire to put a smile on her face, the short poem below came about. The dog I had at the time which came to love her as well was named Luna – hence the image attached. Thank you for reading.

That beast with feel good flames,

It shatters personality with energizing fear,

Makes a whole of fractured creatures,

Absence felt but unseen shines light,

On the gnarled path to something true and right.

Rather than lost and alone we find our way here,

Out of the forest of broken hopes,

To a land fabricated of dreams and words,

Of possibilities and limitless features.

When we journey beyond the ken of all that’s known,

Risk it all on a gambled passion turned more,

We’ve started a walk down that most crooked road,

The one that leads home.

Find your love.

Into the Blaze

Burn baby burn, home on fire.

White toothed grin wholesome and out of place, build me a river with curtains of tears from a different space.

Washed out playground full of mice and mace, deny me witheringly those indulgent ways.

Nevermore inside compulsive daze, shackle those bodies into wandering maze.

Labyrinth mode to occupy the days, if not for you then into the blaze.

Musings from the Borderlands (BPD)

Tuberculosis in those gasping fits of indulgent wheezes spraying the viscous life goo out in a spray. A misting of not so mild proportions even if the emotional fluid is less clingy initially than blood, it still latches on and shows up in the worst of spots.

The time you decided to gauge your ears and that a pen was the logical jump – pressure couldn’t hold back the infection, or the stable nutrient sludge from leaving a heavy velvet trail down the side of your neck.

Pressure can’t hold back everything, it builds on itself until there’s a raucous and feverish exhalation as the balance shifts and pop there goes the cap.

Just so with love in the quieter stages of a new relationship where urgency tears apart at your genitals, your heart, your mind, and all you want to do is sleep and talk and fuck and cuddle and touch and gaze and there’s a missing component sitting at the back of your mind whenever you’re not around the object of your infatuation soon to beget something more….

It’s an incredible array of emotions that comprise us as people in this world, so much so that the involuntary act of vomiting up a tempest of undigested feels and such onto another can be as easily described in the lead in as something detestable, rather than beautiful.

I know I like to think to that moment when the dam breaks and truest of joys radiates in a way that lets energy ripple its way across the lips and my skin seems to be afire with passionate rightness….love, or anger, sometimes they can be dual sides to the same ride, a peaceful lake to a jet boat ride or some such adrenaline rush.

But man, when I look into those eyes.

I still melt.

BPD Splitting

If it were to be the way that BPD were,

You’d be a goddess or a demon all cut pure,

In gleaming shards of perfect,

You’d hate with everything,

You’d love without anything in reserve.

There would be no middle ground,

No gray area to be common found,

I’d split your single you into two,

Burn effigy of the one not true,

Until the times they changed again,

And I realized that you were my truest friend.

Thank God you’ve showed me to look beyond,

Hear the words your actions write,

When ears signal music to a different song,

You’ll remain imperfectly perfect,

Beautifully flawed,

Like us all.

Timed Out

Misanthropic pendulum of all that ever was,

An illusion mastery subtle and nonplussed,

I’ll wave this wand to carefree bless,

Our mouthfuls at the trough.

So sate your hunger amidst mine,

And let’s dance across the world,

Pay out to shallow graves,

Never knowing we lacked the time,

Though through it was where we hurled.


Externaphizing

Hoping the jury is out.

I’m coming to the realization that on so many different levels I am either a remarkably calloused and demanding individual or there is a screw truly loose (several more likely) upstairs. It’s the only thing that can, or would, account for such indiscriminate moments of self indulgent burbling and behaviour as leads me to regularly overlook the concerns of those loving figures in my life. Unless I am well and truly an actual certifiable dick.


I’m even finding a flair for it in the fact that I tend to fixate on my own reactions and actions in situations – pre-emptively justifying some flagrant display of asinine “my way or the highway” choice making prowess with a fixated smile plastered in disregard on my face (which I will only later realize to my own chagrin). If I were to explore the world around me, step outside of this little glass room and observe that what I previously represented as fun was actually a brazen push off of my wife’s emotions and verbalized needs (supplanted by my own), irresponsible actions that drained coffers and put us at risk, and a worthless extension of a wonderful day into the doldrums and mire of a night huddled at opposite sides of the van.

Somewhere along the lines there is a lynchpin moment – like when I say, “wow, we are getting along great recently!” Klaxons should go off inside my head that any moment now my own self-destruct sequence just silently clicked on and started down. If I can chase back that singular moment as it happens and repetitiously drill it into my head that this is the moment where a choice can mean the validation of goodwill and genuine happiness being experienced and a continuation thereof, or disaster and a repeat of the same overplayed mistakes once again.

It seems intuitive that anyone would want to sustain positivity and goodvibes that are making themselves felt in an interpersonal dynamic – so why does my brain blank to suddenly and with seeming intent when it comes to taking the basic neccessary steps to do so? I don’t like the burned out husk of joy that is left when I don’t, no one does. If I have to be self serving enough to recognize the discomfort that the miss of that moment will bring to myself in order to identify the external impact that will precede, so be it.


I really hope I’m not just a dick. That would really be terrible.

Not a Normal Zoo

Tremulous chattering in the van like we’re beetles in heat. Something like that anyways. Its fucking cold but it sure beats being on the street. Time to start on one of those commitments. That thing where we write everyday, try to spew out the content that drives each of us bonkers, makes us sicker and crazier than anything else upstairs no matter how much we beg and pray.

There’s joy to be found here. In the way that our interactions have changed. Its subtle, so very subtle, but present and there’s no denying the pleasure it brings. Instead of side eyed looks they come straight on, a touch of passion, and I’m even back to singing terribly constructed spasmodic morning songs.

Like a drunk man who’s way too sober christening each second with noise to blot out all of the thoughts before they come screaming to his room begging for their toys.

But it’s all got a rhythm to it. A banging irrational rhythm.

From the awkward sex making in the cubbyhole cavern with blanket draped window we reside, to the front seats arm deep in residue from yesterday which resides. You’d think we were animals, but that’s far from true. The hallucinations today have me convinced that we’re clearly not part of the normal zoo.

Seeing with Aspie Eyes

Adult Female Asperger's Syndrome Traits
I have been falling far short of making the appropriate connection with my wife over a life defining realization that she has gone her life as an undiagnosed Aspie (high functioning autistic). There are odd layers of parallels to which there is a natural affinity, but there is something that I have been missing. This is my first attempt to look at the world through her eyes as I am best able to express and am hoping with guidance to be better able to straddle the world as she experiences it in contrast to my mental quirks like schizoaffective.

A screaming madhouse of trumpets blaring,
Drummers on speedballs layering the double bass,
Wavering certainty,
Confidence on the rise, but just barely,
The world is too bright,
The looks of strangers is just strange,
Maniacally plotting,
To a joke that you don’t know,
So tell them these interesting passion facts that they won’t know.
Smile while you cry,
Laugh at the wrong gasping sigh,
These rules and constraints are making breathing unfair.
Choke down and recite,
I’m okay and this is all right,
Till the next bad sound,
Bad brush of a fabric,
Discomfort from all around,
Can’t they see the connections?
Feel the motion of energy,
Don’t they understand this quality?
The world is askew,
Words like love and care,
Confused and tried over long rounds with intensity crackling the air.
There’s a kaleidoscopic cacophony of feels,
An incredible world beyond what we’re so painfully pound,
Just a look,
Just a taste,
“How can I be such a waste?”
So little understood,
All my earnest wishes are to call you now true friend,
This awkwardness leaves me bashful and confused,
They all leave anyways in the end.
How much do I accomplish just by opening a door,
Welcome in the miasma of fear that would leave a neurotypical floored,
Scent the wind,
Gather reserves,
By the time I’ve left my bed I’ve confronted an onslought of nerves,
Nevermind the staccato blasts of sanity on swerve.
If you listen and watch,
Appreciate the stimming and don’t consider this to be “my loss,”
You’ll know I am gloriously fragile,
Toweringly glassine,
A ravenous angel of knowledge and love,
Set to task and to pace,
Hurtled forward by God with a shove,
So be patient,
See that for what you may fear,
I’m sublimely sweet,
Easy to wound deep,
Each day the scars rip,
And for all of my toil and grit,
A reluctant soldier of survival all legit.
Penance is my smile for a crime that set me a glow,
Step into my world,
There is so much that I’ve been dying to show.

 

Whiptail Smile – a Romance

,Burning.Woman

Whiptail fun times,

She laid back and threw that hair

Fire doesn’t have that shade,

Red on shimmer on length,

A fold on the mobius loop,

No drinks for breakfast man, reality is already soup.

She’s got a lily to her eye,

A tone to her smile,

Edge to her skullmeats,

Nothing average, not at all.

Beggars for fun,

And in a whisper,

Airy as a feather,

“Let’s do without the sorrow for awhile.”