Lost Brevity

When you bet against yourself and win, you still lose.  You knew the impossibilities.  You were there, but still, you couldn't turn down the sweet aroma.  It drew you in; a siren song.  Had you known, would you have placed your hands over your ears and screamed?  No, it was a masochistic adventure for the sake of the adventure and now you're licking your wounds.  They were unavoidable and you knew it, so embrace the pain, the ache.  If you hold this ache in your heart and it examine it, you will find it dull, and  though it seems to consume you, there is a hint of sweetness like the metallic odor of a carcass left rotting under the hot sun.  Ponder this ache and cherish it.  There is no lesson, for if given the option, would you have it any other way?  You did not fail and you did not win.  You were rejected but are wise enough to know that this was salvation.

But damn you for the delusional hope that sprang up like a poisonous blossom.  This was sin.  The petals of your feigned ignorance now fall to the floor.  You tried to grab the reigns of another and drive them into your life. You let your hunger turn into a cunning animal and chose to stalk rather than observe in awe from a safe distance.  You stumbled and fumbled for this is a game you have long since forgotten.  Your words could not hide the salivating desperation and any attempt at humor was pitied.  Smitten idiot, did you not feel the change?  Guard your soul and do not let the wound heal without drawing upon the pain for guidance.  Let your future be one of happiness and know that if you walk through life alone you will be in debt to no soul.  Think of the pain you would have inevitably caused, the dry wind of familiarity that would wick away the last drops of this illusion--this brew of chemicals that is nothing but a temporary drive for the continuation of this lost species.  Do not banish the memories, but cling to the hurt more than the joy.  It is not a bitter pill to swallow for you are no longer young.  You have no right to hold a grudge against your fate.  Can you call her name without attaching it to anything but your own self indulgent wishes?  Recognize this and unbind the spell.

How long will this pain last?  How long do you think, or rather, how long do you wish?  Notice your dry eyes and wonder at your narrow brush with what could have been soul crushing.  You waded in the shallows thinking it not wise to plunge, yet you could not help but beg for an invitation.  Count yourself lucky.  Perhaps the short strange dance was everything you wanted.  What more could you have hoped for?  And with self deprecation she called out for an ending.  Know that this pain is nothing but a scratch compared to the jagged gash in her soul.  She can not help but hope, can not fathom the bitterness fading.  Have compassion. Do not tell her you understand, but let your silence speak for itself.   

Mystreason

She's a ninja so stealth like a knife razor edge, but as sharp as she slices I feel no regret.  She's a poet and throws out charisma in song unabashed and untrashed so young and so strong.  She is trouble that bubble behind not to look, but the memory forged like a childhood book.  And she stalks like a lion and darts like a snake and says that she's joking and then backs away.  The mystery solved would ruin the fun because under it all we would shake hands and be done.  But the puzzle has pieces still missing and sins.  The fate has a folly and can't really begin.  I know that I will and I can't so I won't but would if I could tell myself man, just don't! So the circle is drawn in the sand as a line.  A wave rushes in and I'm falling behind.  To cross is forbidden this cross, call it smitten, but posing as ancient when she's barely a kitten.  The span of a depth out of time and why not?  Cuz water flows down to the bed of hard rocks.  The knocking on doors in the night of my thoughts.  I can't give in, but shit yo, why not?  It can't and it won't but I will it to reason.  Friendship is perfect though it sure feels like treason.  When I think of it backward and chill the fuck out, but I look to the future and don't want to find out.  Time and the wave that I ride to the date.  To the island to find it's myself that I hate.  But the glory for me is the story she says.  On this we agree as a knot in the thread.  So thin and so cold in the night as I shiver and thoughts of the gift I will buy just to give her.  A token a scrap just a piece of my pie.  Then she'll cut me out just to lay down and die.

Dream: Slippery Fish

9/30/14

Slippery Fish

I was in a tree house owned by Zoe somewhere in the mountains of California.  It was a hassle to get in, as I am paralyzed, but as dreams warp reality in mysterious ways I found myself inside the house sitting on the floor next to a futon that was reclined into a bed.  There was supposed to be a party, but Zoe was no where to be found.  Oliver and I had decided to stop by to check the scene, but as there was none to speak of, he decided to take a nap on the futon.  We heard steps on the ladder and up through the trap door came a hippie couple.  They introduced themselves and there was vague talk that Oliver was completely uninterested in, so he took off his shirt, wrapped himself up in the sheet and slipped off into dreams of his own.  His head had hardly hit the mattress when the tall thin hippie guy removed his own shirt and spooned him outside of the sheet.  Oliver didn't stir, which I thought was odd, but I had little time to ponder this when the blonde hippie girl removed her clothes and settled on the floor next to me.  It wasn't such a bad turn of events in my mind--obviously the couple was hoping to enact their poly-amorous fantasies, and if Oliver wasn't going to complain, I certainly wasn't.

Suddenly my pants were off and she was straddling me with a blanket pulled around her waist.  I was thrilled to find my penis half erect, a miraculous turn given my paralysis.

"Don't worry about it, I think this will work," the girl said and suddenly my half-chub was inside her. "Oh that feels nice," she said, but I could tell it was more for my benefit more than her actual enjoyment.  I felt gratitude for her fib as she slowly gyrated, taking little notice when my member popped out like a slippery fish grasped too tightly.  

Suddenly Oliver sat up and looked down at us.

"What are you doing," he asked with a look of shock on his face.  I had no reply other than a sheepish grin as the hippie guy groaned and tried to coax him into lying back down. Without a word Oliver shrugged his shirt back on and looked at me with disdain.  How could I have let another man spoon him in his sleep?  We both knew this was no way to treat a friend.

He was up and down the ladder through the trap door before I could protest my innocence.

"Well that didn't go over very well," said the hippie guy.

Left alone with the couple I realized that I no longer wished to engage in this forbidden fruit, but without the help of Oliver I was stuck in the tree house with my wheelchair at the base of the tree below.

Suddenly Zoe arrived, entering from a room that had magically been added to the tree house.

"Hey Jasper, where'd Oliver go?" Zoe asked.

I stammered with a mix between guilt and the feeling of being trapped among awkward company.

"What a tight ass, did he just bounce?" Zoe asked and then chuckled to herself, shaking her head.
Without my wheelchair I couldn't get off the floor and even if I could I felt ashamed of my sticky thighs that I could only cover with the blanket left by the hippie chick.  My pants had long since vanished.

Another couple came up through the trap door and Zoe clapped excitedly, "Let the poly party begin!"  I felt anxiety creep up, pushing the needle near the panic line.

"You need to help me get out of here, I don't want to be part of this," I said.

"You seemed to enjoy it a moment ago," the blonde hippie girl said who was now sitting on the futon holding her boyfriends hand.  Everyone was standing above me, but soon their attention shifted to each other and a chaotic orgy ensued.  Hours went by in moments and I found myself viciously fending off the onslaught of homoproposals to the amusement of the cantankerous crowd.  My pants, where were my fucking pants?

There were other segments to the dream, but that was the meat of it.