Ebb and Flow

You reintroduced this term to me, used it often and found great assurance in your understanding of it. I developed further recognization of it, found disdain for the idea of it and began to further practise decisions on it. I claimed myself to be a rather high individual carrying the deep lows in life in general.

Somehow out of despair, rises the sweet heaviness of beautiful relief.
Is the ebb and flow what we feel – our reactions to occurrences outside our control? Or the reality of nature and our perceivement of it?

Your ebb has proven to be the tired, disengaged replica of a toothy snail. Your flow, the drunk in your drink. You release such ebb and flow in this manner.
If one feels the flow and ebb, but the other does not, does it cancel it’s existence?
Does the stillness in the ebb, furnish the room of flow? So much so, the greater the pullback of the ebb, the stronger sense of flow ?

Is it more difficult to be with someone who ebb/flows at stronger tide or who doesn’t? If both ebb/flows are similar, does it produce larger volumes of efficiency? Does life make more sense together or does ones ebb reflect the others flow and such accordingly so, that an elegant balance is discovered? Only to fall out of sync here and there thus, the supply of flow is full and becomes in demand?
Will my ebb and flow tell me about who I am? What will the origin reasons mean?

The ebb an flow of lava, surely is not the same as musty plastic pellets or clear, untouched chocolate milk?
How much damage does ebb/flow do? How beneficial, how much can we utilize the characteristics of it?
Do some people feel they need it more than others?
Are they higher risk of uncommmitance, with greater frustrations? Does it take more to satisfy them?

To label life as ebb and flow hardly seems necessary- yet we bring it naturally into our discrepancies to perhaps exhale some of the repercussions.
Ebb and flow is each our own natural state of the now. But is it?
How far does natural go, when you preempt the ebb/flow just to feel the lack of numbness?

Is this just manipulating the ebb and floofery? I flow so hard, I ebb.

Sometimes your ebb creates the perfect opportunity for my flow. And when I present with that, my flow dissolves your ebb. And I can’t decide if the term ebb and flow is just a way to describe sometimes our weak ability to accept our excuses.

Eventual Love

Sometimes I feel broken because Love seems something I can’t feel.
Or that I can’t seem to display it. I’m estranged to the actions. Out of Lazy? Out of fear? Protection? Oh I long to fall madly in love and want it for forever. I know it is out there, I have had it before. I had to lose it, to understand it’s value. For now, I will continue to feel my broken lovemeter.

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.

The Ones That Always Remain

So rejuvenating. To be with the people that will always be in the living room of my heart. The only time I don’t remember her in my life is before I began to remember. And I will never forget her.
Would I have done something differently had I known the impact of people and other external influences? Or is the undisclosed part of life, part of what has formed the indestructible endearment?
Being around people that experienced a certain space of life with me, that learned of me through untrained observation and consistent participation, is an immeasurable cognizance.

Undetermined Truth

The splatter of confliction and confusion,
lines in layers
on her face.
Excitement and trepidation,
smuggle their way into the
bloodstream that carries her to bed.

Are these feelings misrepresenting
the facts?

She applies a resistance,
coated in steel warmth.
Takes the delight on a date,
entertaining alone
the origin of the undetermined truth.

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.

Emerald Grip

The bite in your emerald mercy gives me an unprecedented currency of hope. And I don’t even like hope. It’s like stale pottery. It’s like trying to decline aging. 

The grip of urgency is at my numb fingertips. Just to pull myself closer to hear my breath smatter up against the brick wall I’ve banged my head upon for too long. 

Sense cannot be knocked into you like that. I promise. 

You whisper icicle thoughts that melt and drop deep into the caverns of my chambers. I don’t intend to lose myself looking for them. I have already lost myself with you time and time again.

But why the curious in what my heart pulls me towards? It’s me. Confusion can be handled wrapped in soft egg white fabric, and your emerald of reach is beautiful. 

Carnival

Wird press this
I appreciate you wanting to get to know how it goes –
that carnival in my brain.
But you can only eat so much cotton candy in one day.
You’ll read this again,
and you’ll be frustrated again
I’m like a train that has the caboose on the other end of yours.

Keep running after your sandwich,
you won’t get enough of the cheese
until you do.

And then you’ll be sick
for quite awhile.

It’s okay dear,
only the strong mess around with my carnival.

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.