Log in

No account? Create an account

Here be thugs!

I think too much.
I dream even more.
I'm a bundle of nonsense.
And so is my journal.
... but I can dig it if you can. (=

Add me if you want; I'll likely return the favor. ♥

Broken for better.

Terrifying, wonderful, love.

I suppose that not necessarily feeling terrified is what's terrifying. Settling in and trusting, rearranging reflexes as they serve no purpose here and now: it's work, moment-to-moment. All of the silly habits I've developed for myself, I almost laugh at the lengths I've gone to in the past to emphasize my solidarity. I am relieved, grateful. It is a lot of work, moment-to-moment, shutting down those senseless, pointless gaps in time.

You melt me. With all the pigments of the world, you paint me. I trace the lines of you, incapable of comprehending your honesty. You don't even watch yourself, you just are you. Beautiful. A beautiful man. Oxygen, no, it's more you than it that gives my lungs a reason to expand, contract, to keep me here. Heart; I care not about it, but it is left to beat, and finally a reason in you... I suppose it is time to trust. I trust in you, my Heart.

You've perhaps saved my life.



With you, I'm home.


I feel disarmed.

I am not accustomed to missing someone so much after just a couple of days. What the hell.


I was so afraid.

And then they fell asleep with their foreheads close and their silhouettes somehow aligned.


Rock and a soft place.

If there has lately been a union of words cycling through my head, it would be, "I feel I did exactly what I needed to do for exactly as long as I needed to do it."

It's sensing and listening to my own solid intuition again; it is much to my chagrin that I ever allowed myself to be influenced to doubt myself in months past. Intuition has never lead me wrong and it amazes me I ever lapsed into a place where I trusted a blindfold more than the layers of myself warning me through and through the whole while. But I learned, reemerging now and still with the majority of my pride intact in spite of the difficulty with which I stepped away. But I did not bow to you and I saw your reaction, as clear as day. Disappointing as it was to see my very own intuition had been the dark horse all along to rescue me from you, amazed by the degree to which you caused me to doubt myself, but appreciative that recognition came when it did and manifested in a steadfast and relatively clean break from you.

But it's all the past now. In a way, you have my gratitude. I can't regret something that taught me so much and upon which today I stand with such reinvigorated confidence. It took a moment to lick my wounds but that is my humanity and to a degree, hurt is healing, reaffirming; it represents the reassertion of one's own capabilities and one's own hidden strength to learn and to mend and to grow. Thank you. Truly. I take none of it back. You were necessary to the process.

And I, well, I think I am ready to come out from beneath my rock now. My fears are melting off under the sun. I feel lighter. Present. The past is done and survived, the future will come and go regardless of me. Today is what I have and now is all I need to conquer, one now at a time. It excites me to think so.

I am ready to come out from beneath my rock now.



It is a common thing to be lackadaisical with resolutions. I have before even to the extent of not bothering at all. Preempting the failure. "I told you so."

But to follow that pattern this year may be the end of my story.

So there will be changes and it is my hope that with a little patience, my heart will be less despairing. Some are a little silly, but some will be very difficult.

The first is to give up this relentless fear. I believe this is the key that will lead into an upward albeit terrifying spiral into better horizons as the other things bloom beneath it to hold me up.

This is as frank an entry I could make. Again with fear of revealing too much, even just to myself.

The hurt and fear are eating me alive.


But I hold my cards,
Only until I don't need to.

The night before first...

Awkward. Not bad. Easy. Mirth behind your bright, dark, intelligent eyes. Something authentic and perhaps even shy in a smile I immediately liked.

This is me to you, in a time more appropriate than now to say it - at a time appropriate to let you know my recollection of the night before first when I first met you. Navigating first night with you. And the real first night that came the next. "Ostensibly," as you might put it, for my wondering over you those three days scarcely let me separate them at all.

I'm heading back in the morning, I'm nervous to see you, but I'm excited, too. I'm hoping, perhaps wresting, that you would understand right now; if not now, then at a time more appropriate than this very night - the night before the rest begin - when things are still floating solidly on a current of hope and non-definitions and intrigue.

I hope I don't tell you any sooner than appropriate that I do not trust my instincts tonight in the way that my instincts are compelling me to trust you... just enough to walk towards you, be curious about you, get to know you. I hope I don't tell you any sooner than appropriate that I have guarded myself well in the past but was exposed and gauged much too deeply in a more recent past than I like to admit, than what might seem apparent... and it shocks me to feel myself gravitating with indulgent, curious abandon, rather without a great amount of fear as I would suppose, but premature or not, you have gravity, and I like your pull.

If I speak without leverage, please forgive me. I hope my intrigue is... [well-hidden] [at present] but that later it is justified to have existed.

I hope I can pry open the bars just enough to be only as vulnerable as you need me to be, without leaning too far into you. I hope that if ever you see this, it is because a time has come that there are no bars and there are no fears of leaning too little or too much and goodness, if it is so, sweetheart(?) - I can end that term only with a question mark today, but I gild it with hope that I have removed that question mark at the appropriate time, a time well before you read this - if it is so sweetheart, that you can and do lean on me as much as you need. I encourage you. My fear is that you may never hear that encouragement and I hope by now you saw well past my smoke and mirrors and can see that I have only been looking hopelessly out... And maybe at a more appropriate time, that hope is realized in you, sweetheart... (?).

I assume full responsibility if I am being a fool. But I think I want to really know you. I think I really want you to know me. I pledge now to do my best to let you. In the past it has ruined me every time, disallowing access in.

Remember. We both wrote our first poems. Lusty. Raw. True enough. Mine did not fully embrace my attraction because you are such a very fine man that any words I could use don't seem worthy. Perhaps remembered more sweetly in a time more appropriate than now, in a time where archiving these green, green words, will make more sense than now and reap some intangible euphoria we can both eventually smile about, for the raw, awkward, lusty and brash pieces they are.


In a time more appropriate than now... And for this last thing, this one thing, I hope tomorrow I can make it clear that I am happy I met you, and happy to be seeing you again. I hope that we both can read this one line later, knowing that all the clarity needed was there... tomorrow.


Patience not be lost.

To a degree, this has been a year of destruction. Malformed decisions made in haste; choices made in rapid-fire. Things I hope not too terrible, but certainly uncharacteristic: reactive, affected.

Perhaps not suddenly, but surely, I am seeing you.

But I hope it is clear: I recognize that you are one worth being ready for.

I hope your patience not be lost.