Feels in Heat

With weathered temperature, I break down currents whelming from my insides out
the clues that can’t speak about the heart any differently.
Maybe there is denial or some type of degree of heat that we deny,
our experiences weather us with rain and snow or drought.
They all have purpose.
Maybe because I hold onto my seemingly crushed ego
from back in the day that rose my being to cold Antartica.
I won’t let go of the heat I feel,
but I will let go of my umbrella.
I would like to feel it all.

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Vulnerability

Do you ever make yourself say more then you want to?

And regret putting your self out into that space ?

It is so debilitating, yet so necessary.
This overwhelming helplessness. Is it rejection we fear? Where does it come from?

Don’t we need to find that sweet incredible spot within? To be able to share and divulge and if someone takes longer then anticipated to write back, we use our skills to manage the rising ouch feels.

It is okay to sit in them. The tricky part is not letting it leak onto the relationship. The conversations and most importantly, the feelings you have for that person.

It is far easier to run from our issues, then it is to face them.

The more often we are vulnerable, does it become easier?

Or is it the more we look within, the easier everything becomes ?

We are all we need afterall.

Sool

You are the soulstice to my ever glowing nature. The soulutions I find in my everyday.
Your soulfullness resonates in my bones, that warm laundrified fuzzy blanket against bone skin.
How soulganic we are in our soulitude. You soulidify so much purpose in my being, that soulving kind of souldier, dedicated not to beat the problems, but to make them understood.
The absoulute of my breath, the consoulable feature of all teddy bear grub.
My resoulationial feats when I get stuck in mind mud. I’d stay in isoulation with you, fuel ourselves with our gasouline and live in the factual heat. That all of this means

you are my soul mate.

Confused Bubbs

If I broke the bubbles in the bath with a sledgehammer , I thought myself a murderer.
When I break my own heart, I feel like a loser in the gutters of East Toronto.
What is the difference between smashing up other peoples lives
instead of your own?
What makes guilt fight conscience?

What makes you live so poorly
so intentionally unpotentially?
You know there is more out there for you
then sucking bubbles down your throat trying to drown your sorrows,

as if air could do that anyways.



Learn How to Escape Stuck

Being stuck for years doesn’t have to mean death.

I think it is the feeling of being mentally stuck
that keeps us the stuck for the longest
and perhaps,
the most deadly of all stucks.

We get these bursts of living every now and then
and surge forward with them
and then are surprised when we trip over a log in the middle of a cement parking lot.

Babes,
it’s life.

Expect and equip.

You have it in you.

King Globe

Candy coated sugar kings,
we tell ourselves our own jokes
by looking in the mirror.

Would I rather be tin man
and rust,
instead of feeling these highs and lows?

Maybe I just sit on my gold chair
alittle longer each time,
waiting out the anticipation
of falling into mud again.

Is happiness more for the good people?



Messy Weekend

Maybe it was my quivering stomach that awoke me. My head heavy and my heart along with it. I stand up to get water, and I wonder if my legs will hold me. My eyes have dry tears stuck to them.
More then half of my Saturday was spent in drunk phone calls. Reaching out for help, while losing the idea of what I really need help with.
It’s that low point in drinking for 30 days straight. That depressant within it that finally kicked in. Was it building up to this point all along?

My body has sore throughout. Some places more then others. I am weak and my brain fuzzy and confused and I’m conflicted and uncertain and I don’t feel stable. I have to move slow, and slow is even too fast. I have to make a decision, and that is one decision too many.

I will figure this out. And I will need to be confident on what I figure out or else I will not be able to act on it. I feel like my heart just doesn’t want to let go but that is confusing my head up because my head I think, thinks it should.

What a flippin dilemma.