Flickerings

The patterns
Predicted themselves
As habits became ingrained
Mireya had been in the hospital
Since July 4
And he hadn't noticed
Not really anyway
He had a passion for giving
Just not to her anyway
Not capable
Stiff
Obligatory
Christening her with obligatory hellos
She lay alone
Fourth floor
No sparklers or fountains of color
Celebrating independence
On the outside
Pale
Haggard
Lonely
Agoraphobic at times
But inside her mind flickered
Dancing
With abstractions
Mainly black and white
Beanbag chair
Red
Closet
Kiss
Fear
Bike
Chain
Caught
Foot
Blood
Gravel
Hard
Cock
Suck
Damn it was so easy
Mireya went there
Remembering
Flickerings of a former life
A fantasy
Unfulfilled
Tempting
Wanting to be loved
Trying to survive...before....
That was before
The sweet nectar
From the oleander trees
Death did not reach her in time.

Lotus

Yes, it is here
For her
For Sydney
Grief
Presenting itself
It is her story
Her narrative
Unfolding
Not petal by petal
But in its entirety
For the first time
Her room
Empty,
Not merely unoccupied.

Earth Songs

As witnessed by her sins during the past year, morality must not always enter her psyche.  Sydney believes, however,  that each of us is crucified.  Perhaps her own crucifixion is the remorse and humiliation of living the life she has woven for herself. 

High Vibrations

Crystal chakras
From the Himalayas
Lining the collar
Time to find happiness
The kind that nourishes the soul
And pleasures the flesh
Why is life so difficult sometimes?
Not yielding to matters of the heart.
Overthinking
Succumbing to expectations
The ones she places on herself
Masterbating in the darkness
And in the light
A maid comes
She cleans up
After Thanksgiving
The baster washed and dried
The gravy boat put away
In the china cabinet
The guests have gone home
She sits on the edge
Of her bed
Twisting realities
Cutting herself
Deeper
Fucking her pussy
And her ass
Better in the abstract
Making her cum

The solitary alpha gone beta
Even she is not without hope.

Cutting Some Slack

A warrior princess
Overbooked and battle weary
Like so many
She is not alone
Yet as she waves the white flag of surrender
She longs for balance
A life of purpose and soul
Rather than silent anonymity
Faith
Family
Friends
Fitness
Finances
The yin and yang of that elusive thing we call happiness
When life seems to take center stage
Pushing herself into the spotlight
She strives to find equilibrium
And trips
Yet again
Bruised and battered
Guilty that she stays
At peace if she goes
Desirous of affection
Launched into her psyche
The one that is not at peace
The doubting worrier
Who mustn't whisper defeat
Healthier
Happier
Loved

Futility

Vanilla ice cream
Started my neurosis
It must have
Sitting in a Styrofoam cup
In the freezer
I asked where it came from
And he shook his head
Maybe you should see your doctor
If you can't remember where it came from
What am I supposed to do?
I can't think about the past
Or hypothesize about the future
When I stay in the moment I worry
Or cry or get mad or overwhelmed
By a plethora of emotions and thoughts and anxieties filling my head swarming around like the wasp that was flying about our house earlier today
Nothing is definable
Or tangible like it was last week
When I was in your arms
You held me and said everything was going to be all right
Our days continue to be consumed
With emptiness and senselessness
My days must parallel others
I can't be alone in my malaise
Or am I alone?
The Hersey syrup bubbles as I squeeze the last few drops out of the bottle
The ice cream soothes my throat
Hopefully giving voice to the throat chakra that has vanished over the years
I doubt I suffer from any clinically definable neurosis yet
Yet I've been wrong before
I deleted your messages finally today
Whisperings of that little black dress
Echoing in my ear
It is time to forget
And time to remember
Time to move on
And time to reflect
Utter futility is all I have to say
That's what life is
I see my doctor at ten tomorrow
I'll tell him I enjoyed the ice cream.

Past Behind

Had a taste
Of leaving the past behind
But when my face is pressed
Up against the window
I cry
Knowing my journey
Can't be hurried
Swamped at times by the mind
That wastes the life
One longs to live
Trying to rediscover
That who I really am
And want to be
I feel the slow transformation
As my nipples are strung high up
To the ceiling
In all my confusion
I find sanity
If only for a little while
Before the waves wash over me
Moment by moment
Breath by breath
Spontaneous encounters
With you
Free from illusions
And material success
Tranquil
Relaxed
Long forgotten senses
Reminding me what I had forgotten
Fighting
Floundering
Questioning
Holding on
While letting go.