White Fragility or Steel Yourself, A Storm Approaches

I just had a Twitter conversation with a violent racist. This was a self identified white female (we'll call her SS) who was enraged by the issue of race. She attacked someone (who we'll call K) who called out Lorde for blaming all white people for "the system."

All K said was that blaming all white people increases the hate problem.

SS decided to tear down K. "Actually what helps feed hate is the white insecurity you're whining about with these tweets. It emboldens hard core racists... It demonstrates that you're more interested in how POC frustrations might affect your bloated ego instead of the civil harms of real racism...There are nazis marching in the streets, but you have time to clutch pearls over "not all white people" nonsense. Have some dignity."

It was at this point I chimed in, "Don't let an awareness of evil bloat your sense of understanding. If you think white people are the problem, you're missing the point... it's hard not to combat hate and violence with anything but more hate and violence, even if only in our hearts. We have to stop it..."

It was as if I lit a Quran on fire in front of SS. "Meaningless nonsense. If POC expressing their frustration over their very real problems triggers your white fragility it's not about peace."

SS proceeded boldly, calling me everything from Nazi tolerant and racist to weak and an armchair psychologist. If you want the whole thing, hit up my Twitter.

I guess I'm confused by the whole thing. I'm looking for some clarity.

If someone blames a whole group for a problem, isn't it oversimplified and wrong? Like, always? Isn't trying to find common ground and focusing on actual solutions more productive than angry rhetoric and name calling?

This is why I can't identify with the progressive left. It's as if "polite disagreement" is interpreted as "seething hate." If you're not in lock step with the exact auto-updated program, you are unworthy of their esteemed approval. You are ridiculous. You are the problem.

I disdain racism. What happened in Charlottesville is beyond contemptible. Donald Trump is a huge box of tools. These are things most of us can claim on both sides. Why can't we build from there?

I don't think I should have to feel bad about being white any more than anyone of any other race should feel bad about being in their skin. I bleed if you stab me, get fat if I eat too much, and want my children to grow up unafraid of being who they are just as much as anyone else. How is that fragile? How is that racist?

I wish I could show people how hate really tears apart the soul. It's actively wanting harm on others. I reserve that special feeling for child molesters and people who talk at the theater. And, even so, I don't let that control me anymore. It's so taxing, being angry. I was for a long time. I know the rush, the righteous indignation, the cost to the sanity. You just look for more things to hate. You find another. And another. Until one day you discover, revenge has become your whole life.

That's not real life.

That is hollow.

Serenity Forever

Are You Watching Closely?

"Hello, I've Waited Here For You Everlong" or The Strange Way We Make Our Fate

It was 7 years ago.

I was living with one of my buddies and working security and just "celebrating" a year of being single again. I put it in quotes because I was still very, very not okay then.

I passed BFE Rock Club on my way home from getting paid or something and saw "Open Mic" on the marquee. I thought, "Why not? I'm off tonight..." as I drove home. I had started doing crappy YouTube cover song videos, like one does in 2010. I felt like I was missing something. I needed to play in front of people. It was a flame, and I was most certainly a moth.

That was the night I met Series Six. Those boys --my lord, they were all babies back then-- stole me from second one. These showmen varied in age from 12-17, and they put on a higher energy show than I'd seen Puddle of Mudd do. And I loved Buzzfest 13. Just sayin'.

And they were cool. Cooler than I was, at their age or at that time. They played like they were the house band, or like they had 100,000 people watching, or like no one was. I couldn't figure it out, but I was mesmerized.

Then, it was my turn. Me, the new guy with his guitar-that-don't-plug-in.

I still remember that first time on stage alone. I remember it every time I perform. The anxiety, the joy. I'd been on stage probably 100 times before that. As a piece of a large ensemble. Or even the one time with guitars with a friend jamming Wonderwall for a talent show at church. But this. This was different. And scary. And beautiful.

Rich the Sound God and Stone Cold Spencer set the mics for me and my acoustic. They spot lit me, and everything went quiet. It was all mine. The stage, the air, the whole bar belonged to me for that 20 or so minutes.

And those baby boys, and their rockin' daddy, came up to the front and just watched me. They just stood there and stared at me like I'm sure I was just doing to them not 5 minutes prior. It was, simply, the greatest thing that had happened to me that year.

Then it was over.

And it began.

The baby boys and their dad became Jeff, Logan, Nick, Shelby, David, and Devin. Stone Cold Spencer became, well, still Stone Cold (but he sometimes tells me I have the voice of an angel). I met Frankie and Shane and Connie and Gary and a whole host of others because, one day, I decided to take a chance on some little divey rock bar I saw on my drive home.

Because of all of you, I found out how much music truly means to my well-being.

Thank every single one of you. Especially those of you I didn't mention. I remember it all. You've all made my life, if not better, at least "more interesting." As Harvey Danger once said, "If you're bored then you're boring."

And y'all never have been boring.

I still love you.

Keep going.

Are You Watching Closely?

"Staring into the Strings of the Universe" or Writing Practice 5/1/17

I haven't written in Dog knows how long. So when it finally came out of me this morning, I figured I'd just drop the unpolished product. I may revisit it later.

..... .....

What do I feel like doing?

I couldn't say.

I guess I'm merely mourning days that never were,

Wishing on maligned stars and unwound clocks.

I fool myself into thinking I'm not just

A fool for thinking in 4 dimensions,

Running past the future and back to the present

In a million threads of thought,

Arguing with Fate as if she were an old friend

Weaving the tapestry in the couch next to me Instead of out of me.

I see so much.

I feel so much.

Every thread pulling and tightening,

Twisting and winding while I do nothing but spin the wheels.

The tapestry turns both picture and prison as I see every beautiful stitch,

And each one before it,

Every direction I could have gone

Had I pulled a little more left

Or made a hard right.

..... .....

Thank you for helping me break through the fog.

I thought I'd be mute forever.

Are You Watching Closely?

Sometimes You Must Dive Right In - or - A Torrid Emotional History Of Barely-Stability

I couldn't be more remiss for not posting in over 6 months. I have so many of the thoughts happening. I don't need to do a lot of the things I do. I do need to write.

I'm going to post the series of my work posted on MySpace from the beginning -- looking back, the entire first year + -- of my transformation into a writer. I figure I should consolidate it here for posterity's sake. Because we all know the great and powerful Google will outlive us all. Rest in Zombie-like Stagnation, MySpace.

Sonnet For A Friend (Dec 2006)

Drag me away from this mundane place
I'm ready and willing to go
Without hesitation or reservation
Let's go somewhere neither of us know.

Let's fly away and get a life
Far, far away from here
All I ask is to be with you
And to follow without your fears.

I know the first step is a big one
Into the unknown from the lit
But without the first step, there can be no more
It isn't easy, but I promise it's worth it.

If I promised to Love you forever and again
Would you see that I mean it, though I am still only a man?

I May Regress, But Without Regrets (Oct 2006)

Do you miss me?
When you're alone
And I'm alone
Do you start wishing?
Wishing for the impossible?
Finding ways to achieve
A dream that seems
Like it can never be?
Do you even see me?
Standing alone in the rain
Holding up a neon sign way up high
Until you or God see what I'm up to?

I hope you look first because
I hear God looks down on fools.
Especially fools addicted to things
Like love or dreams that ease the pain
Of existing, and subsisting on those silly things
While not letting the pain heal, or pulling the pain out.

And so I let the storm rage around me still,
Still holding up the sign in vain, not minding the rain,
Because sooner or later the storm will ease up and you'll see.
Or God will make it easy and let the nature of lightning take it's course,
Finding the most positively charged object and blasting it to hell.
It's a longshot chance, but I've always known the risks.
This time, I'll bet it all on you.

If You Only Knew (Part One) (Sept 2006)

I can't keep staring.
It's making me crazy.
You captivate my heart,
And my eyes are a slave to it.

But my eyes and my heart
Keep talking to my mind
Speaking insanities, whispering romances,
And, worse, I like what they're saying to me.

They tell me you're worth it.
That, no matter how much
I'll cry into my pillow when I get home,
Sharing the time with you now is the reward for the hurt.

Or, maybe that is the hurt.
Knowing that, while you look at me,
In that beautiful way only you do,
My heart is here and your heart is somewhere else.

But I'll drown my mind for you.
I'll keep drinking and asphyxiate sleep
Soley to stare into your eyes, Love,
And let your smiling eyes cut into mine again and again.

I do all of that for you.
And I will do it forever if it makes you happy.
Because they tell me that you're worth it.
And that the hurt is only in my mind.

So in my mind it will stay
Locked away for you, Love,
So I can see you smile one more time
And one more time after that.

Everyone Has Someone (Sept 2006)

I love my inspiration.
I quantify her, personify her
because she is always leading my path.

She has her own pace though.
She doesn't run when I run,
or even walk when I walk.

She just keeps trucking along.
I always know when I find her though.
She seems to find it necessary greet me with a smack to the face.

And in reply, I stab my pen into a page,
I scratch it over and over, trying to keep up and write.
But as always, I slow down to listen and scribe carefully.

And suddenly I'm museless again,
So I stand again, fold up my pad with pen still open,
And I walk on to chase my dream, my dear muse, til she slaps me again

If You Only Knew (Part Deux) (Oct 2006)

I didn't want to leave you.
We stood there talking
Just you, me, and the starlight.
And I just wanted to be there.

I refused to look at my watch,
I didn't want to give Time the gratification
Of having power over us.

Fate and Time, the terrible pair,
Both pushing thier agendas toward
Removing me from you again.

So we both follow our persuasions.
Fate dragging you one way,
Time wrenching my wrist the other.

And now, I am trying to call to you.
I have no words, but I cry silently,
Hoping my words reach your heart.
I don't want them to change who you are,
But I want you to know them
In case you feel something too.

Count Up Til Crash Landing (If You Only Knew [Part Three]) (Oct 2006)

Once again
I find myself floating incorporeally.
Twice recently
I've taken chances and been let down.
Nobody knows because I'm just that quiet.
Three times today
I've wished I could be the one you seek.
But I chastise myself for wanting, wishing,
Because I can't keep on like this.
For the last time
I'm going to look at you like I always do,
And I'm going to hold my hope out in front of your eyes.
But this time, I'm letting it go in plain sight.
So catch it and return it, or let it shatter on the hard floor.

You probably forgot what you had for breakfast today, but I bet you can remember where you were 5 years ago... (Sept. 11, 2006)

You know what I'm saying...
You were there with me too...

We were early to the airport that day.
We both boarded those planes,
and watched the buildings come closer.

You and I stood side by side
on that floor where the nose hit,
too disbelieving or scared to dive aside.

Your cab and my bus stopped moving
When we looked up and saw the fireballs.
And we stared at eachother and cried.

We made the million stair hike.
All the way to the fire and tried to put it out.
Oxygen and water and prayers pumping up to us.

You and I even looked out over our Great City,
getting our heels licked at by heat and smoke.
And we followed the smoke out to the sky, hand in hand...

Your microphone and my camera dropped as we looked up again,
watching the sky falling down around us.
And we ran, crying for our respective dieties to save everyone they could.

Don't you remember that Tuesday in September?
When a billion other people were just like you and me?

Written immediately following the 9/11 poem:

"

A note from your dear Pober Soet, on the above and more:

Now, I might not believe in the historically accepted stories of who purpetrated the attacks on 11 Sept. 2001... In fact, I really don't at all. But beside that, I still feel the same empathy I felt that day. I still remember watching almost 3000 people die in a matter of minutes and being powerless to stop it. And I still want answers on who made it happen and why, and don't believe the public (or most anyone, really) has any real idea of either... Other than it being the work of Evil's very real power on earth.

But until I know more, I'll stick to my pen and keyboard, and make sure my empathy stands as a symbol to those who need one. To those who need to know that someone feels their pain. And I'll do the same thing the steel beam cross that stands at Ground Zero does... point up at our brother Jesus. If you haven't been to NYC to see that, I suggest you take a day or two out of your life and see it.

You may not know, but I really was there. I stood in that courtyard watching a band play on a makeshift stage between the towers and oggling NYC wares in late July/early August 2001. We didn't get to go up on tour the one day we had in the City. It was closed for the day, which still makes me sad because I'll not get that opportunity again... like so many opportunities I've missed since then. When I heard later in September or October the "intelligence" that the attacks had been pushed back several times even over that summer, I have to admit, I knelt in deep gratitude for my own life. It could have been me standing there, deafened by explosions and showered by glass. God did not want me, or my brother, or my parents, or the people around me that day. I'll thank Him forever for that. I went back in the Spring of 2003 with my choir (Musically inKLEINed... oh yeah) and saw what was left. In case you haven't looked in a while, it's a really big hole in the center of Manhattan Island. There's the aformentioned steel beam cross, a little memorial, and a gargantuan hole where I once stood. It's a little humbling, so leave your pride somewhere lest it be shattered when you go. Or maybe I'm the only one who really feels something staring into a void like that. Either way, go visit.

I don't know how many of you have really taken time out to examine those attacks, or the War on Terror, or the South Asian Tsunami, or Katrina and Rita, or the Israel Conflict, or any of the other crazy shiitake mushrooms springing up all over the world lately... but you might ought to take a second and thank someone you are where you are. If you're reading this, you're alive, probably relatively safe, and you've got internet access. Those things alone set you pretty high on the blessed list in this world. Thank your God, your parents, or the scientists that put you in a test tube and sprung you to life for life where you are.

And with that, I toast you, bretheren and sisters of the world!

"

Not All Dreams Are Meant To Come True (Sept 2006)

I dreamed a beautiful dream last night
For the first time in a long time
And for the first time in a longer time
It was about you.

I kept seeing somewhere

I'd never been there before
And I kept seeing you
You'd lead me by the hand
And you'd show me things
I'd never seen before
And we walked around
And you made me slow down
Until we saw all there was to see.
Then you threw your arms around my neck
And kissed me like it was the first time
And you kissed me like it was the last time
And you made me wish that this time it was real.

But I woke up.
I'd never have guessed
You'd call before I could
Blink away the dream.
And you'd ask me
To go places I've never been.
And you lead me by the hand
And made me slow down
To see all there was to see.
Then you threw your arms around my neck
And hugged me like the first time.
And you hugged me like the last time.
And I was glad this time was real.

Because even the simplest touch from you
Is better than the most vivid dream.

Self incrimination (Aug 2006)

I looked into my eyes today
And saw through to my core.
It didn't take long...
These x-ray eyes don't fight much with plastic shells.

I took a long look anyways
Like a train wreck, I couldn't look away because
My heart was a sunken ship.
It's been moored there on the rocks
for God-knows-how-long,
Half exposed and fully broken.

I think it might be time to abandon ship...
Though I've been wrong before...

Don't say yes until I've finished... (June 2006)

Unless You want to let me in,
Beyond subtle pretense and friendly smiles,
I cannot love You more than You think he did.
It takes two, You know,
Love takes reciprocation,
You know it more than anyone.
I want to love, You want it too,
Maybe we both just love being in love,
And settle for the shadows,
Facing away from the sparks,
Arcing off our bodies as our eyes meet.
Maybe it's all in my head.
Maybe Your smile and my heart are just a dream.
Perhaps. Even so, I am just a dreamer,
And You now tread over my dreams.
Tread softly, darling.

Invisable Again (Rebirth) (June 2006)

Just because I can
I'm invisable again.
Because my vantage point is better from everywhere.
I know it's juvinile and wastes my time
But it follows the motif of my entire life.
I can't expect myself to change so fast.

So I keep going on
With my mortal flesh anchor
As I incorpreally inhabit the space around him.
Debating the inhibitionless state I'll have on my return,
I spark soul shoulders with a kindred spirit...
Suddenly, all I have left is my soul on fire.

I'm burning for a fresh start,
The Phoenix on a funeral pyre,
My ashes catch a strong east wind once again.
From the molten pile stands
A purified soldier of Veritas,
Ready to haul anchor and start the revolution.

A Shot in the Dark (Writing to Shadows) (May 2006)

Where are you, my long-lost unfound?
I wander with outstretched arms to find you
Groping and missing with every step
Silhouettes and shadows fading past my eyes.

My mind's eye, only a foggy reflection
Looks on into the uncertianty with hope.

On fallen angel's wings, I'm carried thus
Into the uncertianty, and fearing further failure.

After trials and vengence, errors and vindication
I'm free again of further fear.
I'm just fighting again for the right to live
I don't particularly care how.

Unrefined (May 2006)

Let's burn down the city
And watch the lights from my rooftop
No one understands the beauty of chaos
Like those of us who paint with it

I want to show you the world
Then, douse it in gasoline
And toss in a lit cigarette...
Show you the way I see that world

The structures and confines burning
Melting away to a fresh, maliable landscape.
Readying, once again, to be built upon
With new ideas and stronger convictions

Let the damned place get swallowed up
Hide with me, far away from the insanity
Let's burn down the city
And watch the lights from my rooftop

If I'd Asked Her to Stay (Apr 2006)

It was the tired stupor I was in,
Honest, inhibition-less, like she so often made me.
I all but told her I loved her.
I bled my heart til sleep stole me away.
We woke to coffee and cider,
And I bled a little more
Because, that's what fools do, you know?
I told her how she enchanted me--
--yes, I said "enchanted", and it was true--
--How she was the most enchanting woman
I had ever known.
I couldn't stop for three hours, just answering
question after question, hand in hand,
Her other hand loving her long drags of smoke.

She almost left me with that, with the
knowledge of my heart, and that being that,
But after staring for an eternity, she decided,
She slammed into me like a brick to my chest,
Knocked the wind out of me, and kept a hold of it for a while.
Two hours later, she was on a plane, on her way,
Out of my life again. Not that I regret it,
But I miss what might have been...

Angel of my Nightmare (Apr 2006)

I cradle her in my arms
Once again for the last time.
A self imposed temptation,
A repetitious torture.

A sadistic corner of my psyche
Enjoys the constant temptation.
Beating at my mind,
Daring me to indulge.

But I speak my harmless words,
I hug my friendly hugs,
I breathe in her scent
And stare into her eyes
And tell my harmless lies.

I'd dare not tell her the truth
That I die a little inside every time that voice,
That voice that isn't mine, tells her
"I love you," with her soft, reciprocated reply.

Ink to Ashes, Memories to Dust (Apr 2006)

My soul dies slowly
A thousand lacerations
From head to toe
Criss-cross across
My ethereal skin, it
Doesn't hurt, doesn't bleed
But
A new infection every second
steals a little more of me.
Soon I'll be little more than shadow,
A memory and a shell.
The man I was burned to ash;
That dust now infects you.
Your ears, your eyes, your soul...
And when your soul turns to ash
A little bit of me burns too.
Do as those before you,
Blow your dust across a page
And see how the stains read.

Afterhours' Ruminations (Apr 2006)

Overpowering ruminations are stealing my mind away
I can't seem to shake these feelings
My soul shivers under the constant pressure

I look around the room, as if something's amiss.
Nothing sticks out, though everything is screaming,
Leading me toward a place further away.
Have to keep moving, have to keep searching,
Can't let my mind run out of my reach.
Gotta hang on, let it drag me along,
Can't loose it like I have before.

I see the scenes in front of me change
Out of my control, but not against my will.
I want a change of scene, I beg to lose control,
Just to step outside myself and let things happen.
I find that when I do
My truest greatness is achieved.

Synced with Nothing (Apr 2006)

Rhythm and rhyme take over my mind
Time after time, and I respond in kind.
I let the pen ink leak up and down the page
Until the love they make makes music to my soul.
My soul catches the beat and hums a melody along,
Then my heart wakes up, and puts harmony with the song.
Waves of feeling move my being to become better than before,
And support the crumbling walls around my eon-aged soul

Untitled (Oct/Nov 2005)

The fan above me spins
My head follows suit
Loneliness leaks from the end of my pen.
Weakness envelops my mighty limbs
as my eyes fight the afternoon light.
I can't stand to keep my feet on the ground, 
though my face greets it with a slack jaw.
Faint exasperation frees itself
with a few moaned curses
As I lose myself once again... to the darkness...

Hours or days or weeks go by and
I wake to the light I so abruptly left behind.
My mind is cleansed, clearer, no longer lost in the
corner shadow it curled up in to hide,
offended by the sound and light
that the world had to offer.
That world, like the fan, still spins
though my head, still heavy, has bearings once again.
My now weightless eyes look longingly at
the orange orb losing form on the horizon.

---fin-ish

I'll post my 5-part first piece as The Sober Poet ("Introduction") next post. Maybe in 5 minutes or 5 days, but I'll get to it soon. And if you made it to here, thank you for reading my torrid history of emotional barely-stability.

Some of the topics (people) these are about are the same, but many are different.

Some will know, some will think they know.

But I know.

And guess what?

I'll never tell.

Are you watching closely?

Too Many Mind or (En)forcing My Inner Peace

Dear Readers,

I thought airing my grievances in story time for you would help me cope with some news I got today. It turns out that as I went on, I wanted to dip into further and further detail on the situation. As I went into detail, I knew how deeply it would hurt someone I dearly care for if I were to be so blunt or so flippant about dropping personal experiences and months of observations into the open.

I deleted it. It wasn't worth reading. Raw truth rarely is.



Some battles are worth fighting.
Some battles you must lose
So you don't lose
A much more worthwhile asset.
Tactical retreat,
If only for the sake
Of not burning bridges
Which would never be salvaged.

Sometimes I wish I weren't so observant.
I wish I could ignore facts.
Let things pass while
Everything in me wants to stand.
Wants to fight.
Wants to point out the unbound truth,
The things that neither my wrath
Nor their obsession can deny.

But I am just another number now.
I'm outside of the equation,
An imaginary variable,
Irrational and squared.
A now scribbled over line on a neglected page,
Crumpled up long ago,
Left to be stepped on occasionally
While the old clutter gathers dust.



Ugh, I'm so not in this mood. This mood is invading my space. I want so much to have this not bother me. It just came at me sideways today. I was neither expecting it, nor expecting my reaction. Which to me is weird, because I think of myself as deeply and tragically predictable.

My unimpeded, true feeling is gladness. My Love is coming to town in a week. I get to have her to myself for the following week. I'm really, truly happy with this upcoming time in my life.

Sleep now.

Renew tomorrow.

No mind.

Are You Watching Closely?

And I Thought Two Weeks Was Bad... or Life, Life Always Changes

I'm noticing a rhythm in my life. A constant beat. A cadence of phrase I cannot escape, no matter how hard or far I've run.

"You are better then this."

I always know when my life takes a turn for the not-as-good. I've never yet had my life go "bad." I've (almost) always had power and indoor plumbing, and I've always-always-always had a roof over my head. My life has always been some degree of better-than-most, whether I have realized it or not. But with my first world problems comes the question of "Now what? You're already on top of the world. This is as good as it gets." I let myself become complacent. I drop into this stupor of thinking that I'm not good enough to deserve more than what I have. I have enough. I am enough. I don't need to push further.

But then I hear the call again.

"You are better than this."

And then I try to be better. I resolve to do school or learn a new programming language or something else to make myself better. And then I remember how hard it is to push. That I'm not a beautiful and unique snowflake. That I've always been Jack's complete lack of surprise. Complacency, like a warm blanket, wraps me up again and I feel like it's all a waste of time. Punch in, keep pedaling that stationary bike, punch out, pay bills, repeat. It's enough. It's low-risk, low impact, low geared, and it keeps me afloat. It's enough.

And life, the repetitive little sod, calls again.

"You are better than this."

So we keep repeating the same dance in different places, with different vocations, in different schools, at different times, with different friends, and different lovers, but all (sometimes painfully) reminding me of life's little catchphrase.

"You are better than this."

But why? I'm tired. It's hard. And I don't know how. And what if I fail? I'm afraid of failing. And everything around me says successful people suck.

I'm better than this.

So I'm at it again.

But what's different?

I'm not being told.

I want.

I desire.

I crave.

Sadly, this is new again. I've not had a true impelling drive for a long time. I guess that means I've been broken for a long time. The things I learn about myself when I write... This is better than therapy.

At least somewhat cheaper.

I'm better than this.

Don't forget this time.

There may not be another.

There's so much better than this.

The world is so much better than this.

The universe is so much better than this.

There is no end to what's better than this.

Are You Watching Closely?

I Really Don't Always Write About People or Disguised Love Notes

I haven't written in two weeks.

Not just here. Nowhere.

I've had all of these thoughts racing through my head and not time and nowhere to put them. As soon as I have just the tiniest second to breathe, I just want to pass out or escape things for a few minutes before life, the universe, and everything picks right back up for it's next barrage.

I dream so many things that have yet to be and, sadder still, cannot be for far too long. I, weary traveler, must be trapped on the slower path. For the sake of my Angel, I tread it without guile.

All the while, the days soldier on while I recover from nights that I sell to survive, but it seems in the end I will have neither day nor night. Only trapped with the things that never were because I was never man enough to step out to make them real.

To all the songs I've missed recording, to all of the verses I missed writing, to the ideas left to rot on the floor of my prison and the Angel who tarries with me, if only in spirit for now...

I'm sorry I'm not always attentive. I miss you. When you are with me again, oh the magic we will create. Until then, I will do everything I can to earn the privilege you are to have in my life. You connect me to the universe in a very singular way. You make me feel alive.


I miss creating.

Not everything is what is seems.

Are You Watching Closely?