It is sad...

She is lost.  That is the simplest way to say it.  Where do I start to explain her feministic mistake? She all about female power.  She confuses power to her detriment and unhappiness.  If a man can be that way, then she can too.  Well, just because a man, or anyone, has a lack of respect does not make it right.  Right?

She wants love, though I she does not know what love is.  She uses her apps to meet a new man almost every week, and it is always the same thing.  She always gives herself away, and then never hears from the man again.  It's okay, she says, because she is having fun.  

Fun? Then why does she cry herself to sleep every night? Why does she feel so alone? She reaches out to a new man, and I tell her to take it slow.  She tries, the Lord knows she tries.  She tells me it's different this time, she tells me he is like me.  A good man.  That I will like him.  She wants me to meet him, but he always has an excuse to not meet her friends.  She listened to me, and they had not had a sexual encounter... but after a few dates it finally happens.  He grows cold, but they still seem to be moving forward. He talks about her moving in to her house... they are committed, supposedly.  He talks, still has not met her friends, and makes excuses to why he can't meet her family.  He talks about marriage someday, owning a house... she says they have a lot in common.

Another month goes by, he stops responding to her text.  He won't answer her phone.  She panics, thinks something is wrong, heads to his house.. she has some belongings there.. a spare toothbrush, some clothes... but she does not have a key.  She knocks... knocks some more.. waits.  Silence.  She waits a few minutes worried and concern.  She realizes she does not know who to call since he is missing.  She thinks he may be in the hospital... she is worried.  Then the door opens.

"Oh, it's you... we had some fun didn't we.."  She just stares at him not knowing what to say. "I'm moving to another state," he says. "I'm going to need someone to watch my place. You know what, how about I rent it to you. I'll give you a good deal!"

She turns and walks away.  He closes the door.  She goes out every night now, with a new man. She makes sure he pays for her meal, a free meal.  Maybe a movie, or concert... she makes sure the man pays for everything.. and most of the time.. the do.  The men get what they want too.  It's an understanding they seem to have.  They pay, and sex is almost guaranteed.  There are times it does not happen because of one reason or another.. but she's racked up her notches.  She uses them like they are meat, and she gets free things from it.  There's nothing wrong with that right?  Men are pigs, so women can be too.. right?  Eye for an eye type of thing because it is causing so much horror for the man.  The original pig?

She has a permanent sexual transmitted disease now.  She'll never get rid of it.  She does not care. She spreads it, knowingly.. but tells her self, "They probably already have it."  She doesn't talk to me anymore..  she hates how I call her out, tell her not to sleep around anymore. To have some respect for herself, to wait until you marry... make a man prove he is worthy, make who you are more important than your body.... "It's a man's world," she says.  "I'm going to be like a man."

She isn't like a man.  She is sad and alone.  I refuse to stand by and watch... I pissed her off because I said it's a form of prostitution.  She's selling herself short, and for cheap.  She disagrees as if it is some adventure and that some day she'll find love.  As the saying goes, she's looking for love in all the wrong places.  How do you help someone who can't help themselves?

Maybe she's a sex addict.  Or, maybe she is just lonely... maybe these moments make her feel wanted, sexy, attractive... maybe they boost her self-image or worth in some way.  Maybe they bring in some form of gratification, satisfaction... or maybe she is just lost and wandering around in a pit of despair.
"What's love got to do with it?"  Nothing, obviously.  There is no patience, no commitment, no understanding... just a moment of pleasure... and the pleasure is not always guaranteed.  She looks hard now, sad, and barely looks me in the eyes.  She does not like coming around... I think she wishes I saved her... that I swooped in and gave her what she needs.  I am not the one to that... perhaps if she was slower, more patient, and did not rush into encounters that are risky.

She hates me because I don't love her the way she wants to be loved.  She hates me because I would not touch her with a ten foot poll.  She thinks I'm judgmental.. perhaps she is right.  I can't get involved with someone who does not love themselves.  It would be like a bottomless pit that I would never get out from.  It's sad to watch her drink her life away now.  She won't listen because I don't want her.  She never wanted me before, we were always friends... best of friends.  I was always to nice for her taste.  Now, after all these years, she hates me for not being like the rest of them.  She told me, "I just want to feel you inside me. Just once."

That's why we no longer talk.  That's why she no longer comes around.  It's a sad day to lose a friend.  I wish her the best of luck. Choices we make lead us to where we end up.  Perhaps different choices would have brought us together... but those choices were not made.  Our paths crossed, and now they move in different directions.

I dreamt of you -
Do you recall the days
I courted?  Made moves
To bring you and I
Together?  You turned
Away, and ran into the arms
Of others.  I stayed a friend.
Remained, not silent.
Yet a friend.

You knew I loved you,
And you toyed with my heart.
Years past, and now...
Now you want me?
I think not - as your loyalty
Is non-existence.

I dreamt of you -
Once upon a time.
Now I'll just say
Goodbye.
~

Exhausted Insomnia

It is strange how I am positioned to help certain people, yet I can't seem to help myself.  A fog rolls through my mind and silence falls. There's no way to see past the blue. It drags my eyelids downward because the fog is heavy.  It weighs my head down, and I feel slightly poisoned.  Thoughts, memories, imagination, all mental capacity crashes downward.  It's like free falling without a parachute, except even horror and fear have vanished.

The heaviness moves down the neck and into the shoulders.  It spreads slowly at first and begins to pick up speed. I try to walk towards my bed and my legs drag my feet.  I do not want to fall.  Please Lord, let me make it to the bed.

Awake.  It's only 1:00 AM though I am thankful to be alive.  Struggle to rise and go brush my teeth.  Struggle to unzip and relieve myself.  It's a struggle to get undressed and underneath the covers.  My body has not recovered from the weight.  However I can't sleep now because my mind will not rest. A large army of thoughts and memories are lead by my imagination into a foray against my sleep.  They keep circling, repetitive motions, and they are successful in sabotaging any needed recovery time.

I shake my head, throw a pillow over my eyes, and try to focus on prayer. Images of my youth keep appearing, my work day, the bills I owe, the way I could not get a word out in a social situation... awkward and silent.  Why couldn't my mind be silent now?  Why couldn't it work when I needed it to?  I wonder if the weather is going to be nice at the beach?  I remember when they released the sea lions and we got to watch.  I remember the darkness of my youth, the pain of witnessing suicide attempts by my mother. I recall my step-dad succeeding. Why did I feel abandoned by my friends? Reclusion became my best friend.  It's a security blanket to keep people from hurting me.  I remember Kirk Gibson hitting that game winning home-run in 1988 with two bum knees.  I recall my first few poems, not the actual poems but the moments that they captured.

Why do I write? Why can I not write them anymore?  Poetry always held my pain, my silence, my depression, my anguish, my anger... maybe I don't write because they have been gone.  Perhaps I found my voice within a different realm.  I try to create a poem in my head.  Nothing comes but images of my wife.  My lovely wife sound asleep next to me.  I look at the clock and it's now 3:30AM.  My body is sore.  My eyes slightly ache.  I am exhausted.  My wife use to paint.  She doesn't anymore.  Did we do this to each other?  We use to have joy in our creations.  What happened?  Is this what growing up is?

They say misery loves company... that's furthest from the truth.  Misery wants to be left alone, and that's why I treat people like shit.  Well, I don't really treat anyone like shit.  I just sometimes wish I could.. but I have this morale compass in me that is derived through my Christian faith that it's terrible to treat people like that.  I want to be treated well, so I always hope I have a better chance at that by treating other well.  I just don't have personality... at least, I don't show it.  Uptight, hidden, and I don't want anyone to see the real me.  The pure me.  The one my wife loves.  Everyone else gets a wall made of stone.  Why am I still awake.  It's 5:00AM and the alarm is going to go off in an hour.
I close my eyes.. BEEP BEEP BEEP…  time to wake up and do this all again.

Tomorrow

It is the same
Dull and repetitive
Word - tomorrow.

When will this be done?
Tomorrow.
When will we spend time together?
Tomorrow.
Will things get better?
Tomorrow.

I am tired
And I do want
To wait until
Tomorrow.

There is also
The possibility
There will not
Be one.

Let my tired bones rest,
And perhaps I shall sleep,
Eternally in peace.
Or I perhaps I shall rise.
We will not know
Until the sun shines

Tomorrow.

Wide Eye Doll (free write 4.30.19)

She haunts me,
Glowing pale
White skin.

She radiates
Light that keeps
my awake all night.

She is a troll
That demands
a toll at crossing.

We cross paths,
But I am broke.
She demands my soul,
That is broke too.

She haunts me,
Pale in daylight,
Lost in moonlight.
Alone I find myself

Beneath the moon,
Beneath the sun,
In the sheets,
I'm on the run.

She haunts me
Every day.
Will I last,
I cannot say.

Frozen

I sit in darkness -
A deep blue - midnight.
Things to do, yet I am
Unable to move.
Papers pile up while cupboards
Remain bare.  It's to cold
In this blue.  I no longer care.

I sit in darkness -
The sun is up,
And I have no urge
To walk outside.
I just sit and stare
In silence.

Everything is blue.
A cold smothering blue
That covers the earth.
A blue hue outlines the horizon,
Fading into black.

Vision does not always see clearly.
Perception outlined in blue.
Lost in blue, an ocean of blue.
A blue with depths of the seas,
A blue that is shallow like a wading pool.
A blue that is everything.

It will not let me go.
The blue is a magnet,
And I am it's opposite.
Draw to it, stuck, unable to move.
It has me, and I don't know what to do.

The blue is suffocating.
Every breath is difficult,
Every thought returns to focus
On this blue.  Nostalgia lost
to this blue.  All I see is blue.

Another one!

Like A Rock

A rock stands firm,

On solid ground. However,

Throw a rock into water,

and it sinks.

How can a rock

be solid foundation,

When it drags you into

The depths of darkness.

It Has Been Awhile

I'm alive,
Or at least,
So it appears.

Between night
And day, a tiny
Moment to sing.

The voice escapes
And sorrow released.
A tiny moment

To breathe.
I sing, and
Occasionally dance.

Before I go back
To work. Alone,
Dragging forward,

Holding hope,
When there seems
To be none.
------------------