Wild Ride

Its a wild ride from the hereafter to present times. In my personal hereafter I don't know what the ground feels like, I'm encumbered with the tasks of tasting air and forgetting sins. Digging my toes in my own dirt is a hobby i no longer condone, didn't serve my present presence any good. Id just have to keep cleaning the old dirt off after I just remembered that I cleaned it already. Like worry and a rocking chair, that old dirt just wasted my good time energy. And repeatedly sullied my hands. So instead of travelling with old habits, I'm inhaling different strategies one atmosphere at a time. At first like any new tasks faced with probable failure, the old familiar soil seemed a bit more comforting. Maybe just another taste of horror to bring flush the regresses of my days behind me.. Repeating old actions basically sums up simple math of how two sums in error will always equal a whole defeat. And stubborn heads in summation require many bumps. Somewhere down my red brick road: I had enough. I had enough of Enough and wanted extra. Into the extraordinary I gasped full speed into mistakes, errors, mishaps, and stubbed-toes. Never stopping because of fear but stopping often because I was tired. At some point it'll all have to fit, my puzzle piece life. Dirt and all. Gasps and all. All in all, its a wild ride.

warm.

I would regard you like a long awaited weekend. 

The evening still and warm; my favorite.

Your tease of a cool breeze and tender starlight would get me everytime. 

A subtle dance of swirled ice cubes and cheap bubbles and man I'd swear I was flying 

And nothing was wrong. 

You were my last great love affair.

Rudely the sun rewinds on it's dutiful time piece. 

I'm searching again for my favorite moments. 

But something is missing!

Simply I've stumbled, tumbled, and rolled belly up into a maze.

One end holds my fear. The other holds what I love. 

But what I fear is what I love and to love organically is to be fearless;

So which way am I to land while still strangely hung up on that wistfully perfect moment? My favorite. 

drip.

Oh baby I just wanna drown in your unselfishness, swallow up your insecurities and let your weird ways carry me in rhythm to the beat of your drum.

Let the waves of obscurity cease at the crease of your wonton smile.

If I can't breath that's fine don't worry! 

I don't want to miss a second of being submerged in whatever abyss I find you in. Slowly through the darkness of unknown comfort yet trusting grasp, the rising possibility that 'everything will be ok' buoys me past the break of despair to be met with confident love and affection. 

One deep breath of cool crisp circumstance shoots like lightening from bow to stern, propped afloat my own stream of constant indifference. Finally! 

 If this is all fear has to offer then I suppose it was all very worth it.

That Ol' Thang

Just when things seem to be proportionately swell: [job(s) are pleasant, people in my life loving, bed warm and belly full] 

off in the horizon, just beyond the river bend and downtown boogie ave comes blindsided slaughter of euphoria. Death. 

Having barely navigated the jungle of grief these past 9 months and seeing that comforting EXIT sign like turning down my block after a long night- I find myself completely lost in sadness again. 

Hold up. 

Not lost like "How am I gonna survive this" lost. 

But "How do I make it out THIS time?" lost. 

"Do I have enough gas left?" lost.

"Why am I back here?" lost.

"How many more times.." lost.

"God I am not strong enough." lost.

This whole experience of loss in two's is new and quite frankly the worst. I have nothing in my past to compare it too, and to ask people of their own experience makes it hurt even more. Their genuine and often unrefined emotions about the losses of loved ones stings like a paper cut I'm reminded of under hot water. Years later and the scar is still seen and felt. 

I fear that this not only will break me but also will repeat itself. And THAT will bend me to splinters. 

Of course I am rambling. That's what grief does- I'm spilling over with wayward, forceful emotions that are engaged without a destination. Their tenacity is intimidating and often wonder if this is at all my reality or have I finally cracked. Reality so damn full of hurt and unattainable salve that this must be a movie and I am just dreaming in playbacks. Reruns of "Worst Case Scenarios" staring me in a visionary nightmare. 

Nah Fam- it's just me and facts.

Of course I'm projecting like a mutha, but like the fitty-11 stages of grief I'm just treading water through all of them. Keeping my head barely above water, but still not falling under. The waves will come, that's a promise. I'll just keep kicking?