Tag Archives: therapy

Curse of the Babbling Friend

Sometimes I never find the right words. Stolid seems to wooden, stalwart to posthumous, nothing really fits. I ramble on through cob webbed memories of vocabulary searching for the thought that clears my mind, all in vain.

I know all the cliche’s about “blank slates” and canvasses; but good friends deserve better. I struggle intermittently with “the right thought” to convey something much bigger than you would require. Like a dog with fleas I pause every now and then and go at it like there’s no tomorrow; and damned if there ain’t.

Handshakes are easy. The customary hug with the extra squeeze is comforting. For me though, it’s never enough. I don’t make excuses. Reasons are often selfish explanations, and factors just explain excuses. So in the end I guess words don’t matter as much as the effort.

It’s funny how a phone call can be a bridge to “the next time”. It’s never enough and sentiments are easy when you pretend someone is near. It’s “sweet” of you to make the effort. Then there’s the silent caveat that lingers like a speech bubble in a cartoon, if only I took the time when we were together.

Things left unsaid aren’t alway good, or bad either. Most of us have things we don’t say. The bubble is always there, but everyone’s left to just feel the thoughts, rather than hear the words. Our judgement is clouded by the unknown responses or our own demons.

There is a way to say anything, that seems to be a gift most folks don’t have. I suffer from not being able to write it or say it at times; or maybe even worse, say it or write it the wrong way. It’s that one word that says it all correctly that eludes me until after I say or write the wrong thing that haunts me.

This is why I write, how I care. I can edit what’s on my page. What I say is etched in time. One wrong word in the right moment can’t be edited without intense drama.

It’s not always that dramatic, but it is always that important to me. Sometimes it’s simple things like forgetting a phone call or visit. These situations beg for the right sentiment, but only leave me looking forgetful or uncaring, of which I’m neither.

It seems in hindsight the right words aren’t important between friends. The other speech bubbles I never see are the ones that say “I’m caring” because I tried. I have excuses because I care. I have reasons because I want you to know; and all the factors together mean I want you to understand that you’re important.

Maybe this is where writing and I fall short. It’s the words, the bubbles, and the actions together that satisfy our soul. Love is the only word that conveys this triad of affirmation.

For me the right “word” is important. I don’t expect to hear it or see it, but I strive to write, say, or demonstrate it. I’ve fell short more times than I care to remember. I’ve been speechless in words, actions, and thought. I’ve regretted not having the right words, and having the right words at the wrong time. I never regret trying.

So if I’m speechless know I’m caring enough to think. Silence is a word and an action that conveys concern. It’s when I’m at my best unfortunately. It’s not that I don’t care or you’re not important. It’s that you are worth the right word that not even bubbles and hugs can explain.

Voices

Entangled in an audible nightmare
Where my mind can’t see
Why my brain just stares.

Take my life, my limbs even
But leave my mind to me
And the sanity I’ve Been given.

Firm ground slithers
From under my thoughts
As the air withers.

And suddenly the noise is white
While trees smile and faces grow
Into a darkness void of night.

Unnoticed

I see it playing with their hair and laughter keeping time with the gentle breeze. I’m in awe they don’t feel the wind or hear the laughter, they just live. Why must I feel every gust.

Leaves cyclone around them, yet still they dance and sing to the whistles of air unnoticed. The earth is spinning its seasons on gales and thermal moments, and the world spins on around me. I seek shelter from something That goes unnoticed.

I gave into the illusion and embraced the sweeping motion of the unseen. I focus on the scent ignorant of the trap or where it came. I no longer acknowledge the world around me or the forces it succumbs. I’m absorbed by the feelings it creates.

I go through pains to justify this existence. My nightmares turned to excuses many seasons ago. Now my nightmare is the wind will have colors everyone will see. My hair no longer blows, dust swirls around my feet leaving debris scattered where my life once lived, and the pain and wind dance around my desires like vines within a fence.

It’s here I’m stuck, intertwined, unable to move. I can only observe life within the links that have bound me. The wind and pain are reminders of the twisted nature of a lie.

You see, the fence, the wind , the pain are all props for the landscape of desire. The elements of a justification for choking my own existence. The links that strangle my ability to move forward. Now I tell myself as many lies as I do everyone else.

There is a me that is free of needs. Within me it’s the weaker self , but she’s resilient. For every lie she tells, there’s a truth that’s sad.

Of the earth

Your words stretch across the plane of my existence echoing sentiments like sand or grit through an hourglass with no minutes.

Your parched beliefs leave your tongue swollen in your throat. You can’t speak intelligently choking on your dried up saliva dangling from cracked bleeding yellow lips. Your thoughts wheeze like a dying mans babble.

The sun beats down on your back like a molten hammer as the hot winds refuse to change. Perspiration turns to salt like snowflake as it flies from your hair swaying with exhaustion.

But you will never secede the ground that swallows you whole. Sucking the life out of you And everyone close to you. You’re in desperate need of a mirror to see the damage you’ve inflicted upon your soul, but you proudly worship the mirage that lucidly shimmers ahead of you, knowing the path ahead is futile.

I pray you’ll taste the bile and purge your soul of ignorance. You’re not a moth bound to a light that will kill you. Let go of the gaseous dreams that keep you walking towards death like its heaven on earth. Find the shade, drink from the fount, and rest your soul to nourish your mind.

Step away from the vast desert of waste, you’re not trash to be discarded, you’re human. Feelings are good. You’re the salt of the earth!

Listen To Me!!!

You’re hearing me within your thoughts
I need you to listen to me with your mind

Your heart can’t listen, it only feels weakness
Your mind screams truths, but you don’t listen, you only hear

It’s you, you have to separate your mind from your heart
Your brain can’t do it alone, no one hears alone

You can’t live in now pulling before and what if in each hand
Let go of spaces you can’t live, and face the day with an open mind

Control can be creative, messy, even spontaneous
So you have no excuse not to listen, hearing is a cop out.

You don’t even look at the words Your sideways glance tells me your in another tense

Darting eyes, fidgeting hands, one word answers.
We might as well be on the phone completing some obligation

Listen to me, look at my words, and let me know you’re here
If not, I’ll soon be too far away for you to hear

Then you’ll listen to me with someone else.

Lost

Memories with intentions come to life through fears yet realized. Details long lost leave remnants of tears like salt crystals scattered across wooden floors.

When memories and feelings part ways leaving us empty all we have left are echoes of pain. Pain without feelings, memories without stories; just a hole where the past whistles across our consciousness.

That drop off into the abyss. A black wall void of vertices, undefined spaces where emotions wander in search of memories. How can nothing define us?

This hole is a barrier to the future. Peace is clouded by the lingering understanding that some mysteries are perpetual and personal, possibly even permanent, and here lies some comfort.

How did I create this obstacle to protect myself from moving on. It’s as if to shine a light into the heart of darkness would reveal things not meant to be known. Where reality is so thunderous it’s better to let the storm pass and become a legend for others to reminisce.

Words escape understanding like feelings escape memories. It’s an impossible space to live or explain; but I understand. I’m there and here for us. I hope this means I’m never alone, nor you; and hopefully this is a place where we rotate in and out of leaving a piece of ourselves for others to hold onto.

Blood is “not” thicker than water!

A couple months ago my “old lady” and I were at the grocery store listening to the music before we went in and noticed a young lady run into the store and leave her kids in her car.
It wasn’t too hot out and she left the car running. We decided to sit there and watch the car till she came back. We didn’t put any thought into why she would do that till she came out with a prescription bag, rushing in the same manner as she went in.

It never crossed our mind to call the police or child services. To us that would have been judging her; the kids were safe and she didn’t have anyone with her to watch them. Life is busy sometimes and the least we could do was help out. She never knew!!!
This brings me to family. Hold on, ill catch you up in a second. I’ve heard of folks gettin in family business and bringing the “authorities” with them. I don’t know about you, but my “Old Lady” and I are the only authority in our family. Everyone else is a guest. How they act determines whether they’re welcome or not; the door is always open either way.

This had me thinking about the myth “blood is thicker than water!”. I understand that kids move on, brothers and sisters get married, and we leave our parents as we become adults. The one person we will always have is our spouse. This is the person we share the most intimate parts of our lives with. The person we trust and rely on more than anyone else in the end. Our spouse is not blood.

I ain’t gonna do or say anything sideways about family cause there is a special bond between family, including in-laws. In the end though, me and my “Old Lady” stand together with or against everyone.

There’s a saying, “Your either with me or against me.”. We don’t live like that, our circle is small and inviting, but you should know you place before you attempt to enter.

If your egocentric nature prevents you from internalizing this you should return to your younger years and revisit what you hopefully just missed. We ain’t ugly, but we’re together and our little family is open to blood and water, and it seems to us they both run hot and cold. We won’t sweat you or freeze you out, but we’ll keep our house warm.

We’re all just folks trying to live our dreams. Some it’s about people, some possessions, others money and power. They’re our dreams and should be respected for what they are.

This brings me back to the lady in the car who left her kids. She has dreams. I haven’t a clue as to her life, but assumed the best for her. I don’t even know who the prescription was for; was it pain pills, or was medicine for one of the children. Was she a single mom rushing after school or a addict trying to get next months peace. I could go on but I won’t. The only thing between us was air, no blood or water. I knew my place as a person in the human family and it wasn’t to breathe my illusions into another persons life.

I ain’t real big on the social media rant, so ill leave it at that. I love Ya’all and hope you’ve found a peace that keeps you out of other folks business. I hope you have a person in your life to live and love with, so you don’t have to run around meddling in other folks. I hope you’ve made sense of your past and are hopeful enough about the future you don’t mess around with other folks dreams. I sincerely hope you come to understand that just because you’re part of the human family, doesn’t mean you get involved with everyone’s affairs. Do unto others,etc…..!!!