In the beginning
I can see how I thought that I was nothing,
but, in fairness,
something about the need to feel better
was more than just a need to feel better.
Maybe this was caused by the drive
or the need to be more to you
than just “someone similar.”
Maybe this was enough to make me
want you in ways that seemed
crazy, if you will,
or maybe carnivorous is a good word,
or perhaps I should say
you make me hungry . . .
In the beginning
I swear that all is fair in love and war,
and in the beginning, everything is
on fire, to say the least.
The nights are bright
and the music is enough
to bring our souls closer,
and the wars are like the nighttime sky
with missiles of lust and love
exploding in air.
In the beginning
we say what we want.
We defy the logic and despise the lies
that say two people (like us)
can never make it.
We let the spirits rise
and let the stars riot,
and we let the genius of lust
prepare us for the best forms
of insanity.
I swear,
it’s great to be crazy
or wanted in some crazy way.
I have told you
that I am, of course, misguided
and misdirected and thus,
I often lose myself
to the misperceptions of my thinking.
Hence, I lose to the wars
of misconception because the truth is this:
my perception is not always true to life;
however, the deception of my perception
was always true to me.
Defy the lies,
I say
and live to win your heart
or die while trying
I think I see now.
I think I know what pleasure feels like
and yes, I know about the need,
or the greed
and the desire for more.
Ah the pleasures of the flesh.
I know them
And so do you
no?
In the beginning . . .
there is always more
as in, more chances to switch positions
or to make love in places
that we never dared to try.
Therefore
it is with my command that I dare to try
and make the beginning
last forever
so that forever is like the morning after
yesterday, which was the day when we first met
to make love.
I know where I am now,
and I know that my timeline
is closer to the end than it is
to my beginning.
I know that I am not young
and I know that time refuses to stop.
Time will allow us another minute
to rewind or go backwards.
which is fine, —or at least
I can say that this is fine for me.
I cannot remove the battles of my past
or erase the wrongs or rid the scars
that I have left behind.
No, these things stand as evidence.
This is all proof
that I have committed wrongful acts,
that I am imperfect, at best,
or that I am someone who lost
to my own rhetoric and the inaccuracies
of a misperceived truth.
I am unworthy in some regards
but yes, I am still hopeful
nonetheless
And yes,
I am as I have been accused
and I am as I thinketh
and, too . . .
I am the soul and yes,
I am the square root to my own equation.
I have no one to blame.
I have no one to accuse.
I stand as I stand –
crooked and wounded
and guilty as well.
I know where I was
the first time I wrote about the idea
of what it means
or how it feels to be in love.
I have shared this before
and I say this to you again,
same as I said this to you once
(in a dream)
and I say this to you while I recall
the emotion as it welled in your eyes.
My very first true poem –
Remember?
“If I listen, I can hear you in my thoughts
and if I look, I can see you in my dreams
and behind the movie screens
on the insides of my eyelids.
But I only hope that someday soon,
I will hold you in my arms.
Forever~”
I never realized how this is something
that lives and breathes; therefore,
love is life and nothing living
can survive in a vacuum.
It was me who stole the air
for this to breathe.
My love is like me
imperfect and broken,
jaded and sometimes,
incapable.
My love is weak in the absence of truth
which, in fairness, this is what nearly killed me
and this is why my love died
when I was alive in my lies.
I tried so hard
and feared too often
that I would always fail
or fall short, and so,
I never assumed
that I would find myself here,
or somewhere wholesome
because how can anyone be wholesome
if their truth is tainted
with insecure lies?
It is not the direct trauma that killed me.
No.
The same as it’s not the insults
that come from our bullies
or the bullies from our past –
it’s not the offense of our trauma
or the intrusion that poisons us . . .
No.
It’s the aftermath that kills us.
It’s the long-lasting doses
that cause a corrosion
to our belief system; therefore,
by way of some extended
or modified release system;
one word
can make our suffering
appear to be lifelong,
painful
and ongoing.
I never realized how soulmates
need to connect.
It is no different from yin and yang
or the mutually beneficial connection;
like when Mother earth breathes,
and the oceans show the proof of this
when the tides rise and fall.
Love is this way too
one breathes out
so the other can breathe in.
Life unfolds
love unwinds
and the truth be told
I was too much of a coward
for way too long.
And now?
It’s not that I am not afraid.
I am, truthfully afraid
And yes, I am petrified
wholeheartedly,
but I am late in the game
and the sun can go down
at any given moment.
I can hear you in my thoughts
I can see you in my dreams.
But –
Next, I have to prepare for this
and be ready for what follows
because otherwise,
I will miss the chance
to hold you in my arms
forever~
I’ll tell you
love makes you silly
and crazy too.
Love makes you do wild things
and the same can be said
when we hunt for true love.
Love makes you say childlike things
or come up with pet names . . .
like, FuFu,
or something like that.
I remember back
when I wore my younger rebellions.
My so-called friends would
make fun of things like this
and call you “whipped!”
if you dared to show them
your sweet side.
To be honest –
I’ve been whipped before.
But this kind of whipping . . .
Well?
it just ain’t so bad
At least,
not if you ask me.
The Written Addiction 