Could it be trusted?
They both stood at opposite ends on cliff edges to either side of The Great Divide – yearning, but still unable to see each other clearly.
Wondering…
Hoping…
Praying…
Could it be trusted?
They both stood at opposite ends on cliff edges to either side of The Great Divide – yearning, but still unable to see each other clearly.
Wondering…
Hoping…
Praying…
She had not been sure that he would have considered her, in the first place.
She had never considered herself to be capable of such behavior, although she had invested in high levels of commitment so far unmatched and unrivaled in past tanked relationships and seemed to be capable of even greater expansion when inspired.
It seemed that she had still not found something that she could depend upon.
She wanted the man whose capacities were equivalent in breadth and depth to her own emotional intelligence.
Narrowed fields of vision
Along gaptic crossways
Make it near unfathomable to
Work several projects linearly
“I got a deep hip adjustment when I extended my leg out for a stretch while on my back.
Maybe I’m closer to some better tracking!”
Suddenly being woken up from the neighbors pounding nails loud-repeatdly into their roofing’s pummeling richochets against her outer bedroom wall and straight through her body was a disastrously immediate recipe for her body cortisol dumping.
She dreamed that her ex-husband had died and she’d had to tell her children.
But when she went looking for the proof, found him alive and ran face to face with his preferred girlfriend.
Though greatly relieved on one count, she did not need to experience the deep pain from the death nor the encounter.
No one was there to comfort her.
“I can’t sleep…”
“It is extremely rude and cowardly that certain men work upon women’s needs and insecurities to get into bed with them – only to leave them more hurt and defenseless.”
—
(Scavengers)
She still had obligations, but they weren’t the same as before…
And even though she discovered that she had some defaults, she was willing to work past them to be more receptive if he would convey clearly that he wanted her.
Song repost from November 2023
It at last emerged from its crypt
As the dark of night descended
But it was not craving brains
More a palate yet untended
Society wanted to ascribe
Their dynamic as a static
Destined to forever replay
Distance by abandonment
But she knew differently
Refusing to believe them
Because she knew beginnings
From whence he and she came
And believed they were capable
Of renduring these spells undone
And then, she rises, anyway.
“And to try to see makes my brain want to scream!”
“The sun is already going down before I’ve seen it, and I no longer feel capacity to muster space for my own isolation’s joy.”
“They just make tissues swell, the head pound hatder – and there’s still no releass from desperation!”
She was hungry
And her neck and head hurt.
Getting up hurt,
Staying up hurt.
Thinking hurt.
Needing love and yearning burt.
Wanting hurt.
Not having hurt.
Lack of any options hurt.
Striving now felt pointless.
Purposeless.
Her father warned depression could come from concussion.
But that wasn’t why she hurt.
She hurt because the accidents hurt her and she couldn’t have what her soul and heart wanted because they hurt her.
She couldn’t reclaim her self determination’s independence or feel free – only disepowerment.
She couldn’t have tbe man she wanted who reawakened her to things long buried.
She couldn’t have the dreams that had kept her vital despite setbacks.
She was being rendered obsolete to society not just from arbitrary age bias, but because she couldn’t perform on the treadmill, any.more.
She was becoming irrelevant even to herself because she could no longer single-handedly provide for her family’s – or even now, her own – survival.
I dreamed you came back for me, Baby.
It made me so happy we were together.
—
(Tears)
If I tell myself to approach the rebuilding tasks directly, the blocks prohibit.
But if I tell mysdlf that I am cleaning my room again to get back into music, they will lift.
And then, when I try to focus on making music, I will see the rebuilding tasks suddenly come clear because of intense dread, worry, and lack of stability.
And I will veer to attend to these tasks, one after another – each time by beginning to attempt to work on progressing in music.
For I am amazing at self sacrificing when the days must be saved.
But maybe, after more months and months of rebuilding…maybe someday I can begin to actually reinsert music for real into my life again.
If the rent gets caught up and we don’t lose our housing.
And I don’t keep slipping farther behind in recovering from injuries, rather than regaining my strength.
And then, when that brief moment of feeling safe and hopeful at last reenters my life again and I think that I can finally focus on my art, another drastic emergency will knock me back down again.
And the cycle will start all over…
Only with less strength to carry on.
Night after night
I must sing along
Happy New Year!