authoring destruction

This beautiful late-winter sun, an austere light for an austere country whose leafless acres billow out from the point where I am standing.

This town a knot of spidersilk that I am caught in only barely.

These days disappearing down the well of my restlessness.

This need to Make and Move, to dive and wind myself in layers and layers of night and ground and unseen and invented worlds and run, run, run, run.

It's waking up out there, it's very close to morning. It's beating so close to the surface. Do you feel it? When the first buds break I am going to hit the air screaming like magnesium fire.

To follow, a lengthy and poetically worded update about What's Really Going On in my life.
( Read more... )

I love you. I love you.

Days like this, I wish I did drugs. Sortof. It would just be nice to be able to rub everything out on command for a while in these no-win situations. I'm tired of the heartache of them; I want a break.

Just got out of a long bath. Did a little meditating.
( Visualization )

I feel a little better. There is no panacea, but I'm not irreparable, either.

But suddenly I knew, that you'd have to go, your world was not mine, your eyes told me so.

I'm back to being in love with phantoms, with the haze of mythos behind my own eyes and nothing that I will, in this world, likely ever be able to grasp. I remember what this was like, when I was young, and loneliness wasn't so profound because the heart wanted different things and hadn't had anything to feel as though it had lost. But then I fell in love, for a while, with people that were here and real and... we did that. For a few years, more than a few really. I guess it has been a while.

But here I am. I'm back again; I wonder if Dragoneyes is laughing at me, somewhere out in that shadow I see through one eye while the hard world fills the other. I think I feel like, now, those two worlds are much more separate than I did when I was a child. Or that my ability to exist in both of them is growing slowly less... No, not so much that, as ever more realization that the desire to share my life with another person cannot coexist peacefully with that dual nature that I've grown up with. I can only share one half my life... and while that's sustainable for varying periods depending on the other person in question, I'm not really sure how convinced I am that it will ever be 'forever'. That wholeness can be achieved between two people in such a state. At the root of this is the fact that I'm not really sure how much I believe, anymore, that I'll meet someone who shares the other side of it in the kind of harmony I need.

It's alright, right now. A week ago it wasn't. Some time before that it was. Some time after this it won't be again, and then it will be. I'm not really quite aware of the transitions in my attitude enough to say whether or not the peaks are growing, or the valleys, but at least I'm not in fear of being permanently stuck in despair on the matter. I'm trying less to determine exactly what I believe; the world exists around me in too much unpredictability for me to say in good conscience that this will or that will not occur... it's more a matter of being prepared, being at peace, if all those wordless wishes don't ever come to pass. Tonight, it's alright. I'll stay here as long as I can.

Alright, enough of that. I have to go sew a dress.