involuntary actions

I have goosebumps patterning my flesh that tell me the temperature is too low. I have pupils that dilate when moving from day to dark. My heart races as a clock ticks counting down. My breath is heavy matching quickened footstep sounds. I have a feeling in my gut that tells me this is not quite over. I have a feeling in my gut that tells me this is not quite over. I have your voice in my head saying “To Be Continued” followed by a month-long ellipse read as a worn out question mark. I have your voice in my head in the silence of this room. I have the silence of this room. I have the emptiness of this room. I have the freedom to rebel, to be remiss, to try to profit, to counterfeit. I have the choice to hold, the choice to steady, and the choice to overflow. To overwhelm, to stand up straight, or to reap what seedy deeds I’ll sow.

I have goosebumps patterning my flesh that tell me the temperature is too low. I have pupils that dilate when moving from day to dark. My heart races as a clock ticks counting down. My breath is heavy matching quickened footstep sounds. I have a feeling in my gut that tells me this is not quite over. I have a feeling in my gut that tells me this is not quite over. I have a feeling that I’ll choose to let that feeling win, as my conscious clear fights off the fog and my patience thickens with my skin.

undefined periods of solitude

The strength to say goodbye came from the desperate need to say hello again some time in the maybe-but-hopefully-not-so-distant future. Goodbye felt like a strategy. It felt like a plan, to her. To him, it was a point of stress he wanted to forget. To give in rather than have one more source of anxiety to quell. It was all too much.

None of it was easy. Letting go, cutting strings: those are final decisions. Calls put on hold, a welcome back home: those are situations unwritten and still in waiting: potential future tragedies: the ghosts of footsteps falling backwards. But those sweet steps forward, those eventual maybe potential tears of joy: they’d wash away an ocean of those shed for damp-eyed farewells.

That sigh of relief. That warm embrace. That long-awaited gaze. His name. His face. They could make moments explode and decades shrink to not enoughs. They are everything worth waiting for. They are everything.


I feel the digging tooth and nail the reaching for what’s underneath but nothing’s there there’s nothing there but dirt decay debris. I feel the digging searching wanting more where no more could ever be: too many opinions differing for too few connection-paved intricacies. I try I try to talk I try to give chances and I take a few. I try I try to meet new people to give them doubtful benefits to see just where it leads. But my heart is hollow heavy still still trying forgetting questioning too many lingering wasn’t meant to bes. Closed off to testing nothings for size closed off to starting a collection misfitting. I’m playing for my own team I’m playing a game half-halfheartedly I’m playing on a different field: an emotionally removed plane. I’m alright here but they want more so I’m alright with closing out. I’m alright here, but that’s obscured: it’s coming off as posing. A girl who does the things girls do, but to me it seems much deeper, and no one is asking for details: assuming pointing finding that fault lies in non-reasons.  So I apologize for choosing flight over passionless fight, but I can’t help I won’t try to make an era out of a season. 


Infinitely intricate countless caused reactions so simple the slight movements that build up and diffuse. A pause of recognition: familiar eyes find a familiar face. Falling, stepping, taken aback: out of focus, out of place. A found meeting with a loved one – once a loved one – long ago. A curiosity of happenstance: time stutters as it slows. The thought behind each spoke word: interpreted sounds hit ears in waves. The clues are in the subtext asking: how did you get here, is it fate? The understanding and response: a cornered smile’s blinked-back tear. Future footprints fade forgotten: plans rewritten, starts renewed. Remembering where I’m coming from I find out where we’re going, and four legs take off two by two: so easily sidewinding.

sorting out certainties

I’m looking in from the inside: too close, too close, too alone. A broadening perspective: much needed. The introduction of external factors. My mind expanding strained trying to organize all of what we both need, without forcing a compromise – at a stalemate refusing compromise – scared of asking, but more scared of retreat. You hold so tight yet you’re ready to let go. Already having let go but waiting for a final disappearance. Enjoying it while it lasts. Enjoy it while we’re here. Sink sink sink hold down hold under all unacknowledged latent fears.

We could go on some adventures. We could grow we could explore. We could learn from all of Them – taking pieces of extended olive flesh – to try to figure out who we individually are. Grasping taking hoarding knowledge of some small newly-added fact, of what it means to be human – a lonely longing part of something incomprehensibly more.  I could, you could, or we could take it day by day. Set out to sooth our restless minds – forget we’re only pawns in play. My next move: I don’t know – I’m still pretending I don’t know the rules. Your next move: unwritten, unknown to me. Possibly no more than a blip of thought in your mind, where no push has yet brought to surface your shove’s necessity.

You whispered in my ear, on a day not unlike so many others, that I am the kind of girl who deserves everything. I whispered back: I’ll have it all. We will. Because if I had it all I would share it all to you, and I will have it all and I will share it all to you. 


Remember? Remember. Fond memories. Such fondness. A light-faded heavy veil of once intricately-colored cloth. Remember? Remember. Fond memories. Such fondness. A warmth turned cold. A touch removed. A distance growing just past reach-extended possibility. Words on screens: we know each other still. Your voice, I wonder: wavering? Careless? Further.


I am waiting for the part of the story where the title is explained with some big picture summary: some explicit statement purpose governing: black words on white pages: close up, not grey faded (blurry eyed and far away). I am waiting watching waiting waving wavy ups and downs – down and down and drowning coming up for gasps of air – held under diving under sinking settling then rising up and up until finally: some surface breaking eye to eye with the ebbing tides: just pieces just some ashes taking form and taking flight forgetting unsung tragedies of unsolid shifting surfaces.

The skies are clear: I see it now: the far out stars: we’re under heaven. Traveling unraveling: some Brownian motion pathway: flittering far down below so far beneath the dawning light. But the skies are clear: they’re blue: the shortest wavelength traveling photons can will use. On Occam’s razor’s edge: the simple path is sharp and stinging. Shrink down small enough to not be sliced: the path is paved with mountain ranges. The shortest path, the lighted way, the lessons learned, the faces saved. No curving lines to final points: no question marks signaling a choice.

You look me eye to eye and you try and you try to let my hopes down carefully where i am still left standing. You’re holding on to letting go: grasping for some final straws: my fatal flaws our problems: the absence of enough being as it is defined: as enough. my white flag is waving saying: let’s fight on let’s go and if your burden is too heavy: my back is yours to break, but the guilt in your eyes is heavy too: the guilt of decisions too certainly made. But am i certain? I am certain: the shortest path is clear: fly with me towards the sun: there’s no use waiting here.