one minnesota two minnesota

a few hours of sleep, not even. maybe 2. eyes slowly open, the noise of his fears rattling through my brain until i realize groggily i am still on the couch, and he is talking at me. it is cold, i shiver even with the hot water bottle.

so, i see that you refused to take responsibility for my life in any way again yesterday. something is wrong here, i am losing control you used to just do these things for me it is a test (this is not a test) and and i must get it back somehow but i can't lose her and fuck that bitch for making me feel like this

half-formed answers tumble out of my mouth while i slip in & out, in & out, in & out of consciousness. apparently most will aggravate regardless of the compassion injected... or attempted to, being only just awake and all that. one eye catches his glare. directly in front, talking at me, pushing on me down down down no this is not mine i must resist

did you see the song i left here for you? jeff, he says forget her, or that he is trying to... did you feel the pain that i feel when i hear this, when i see your face sleeping so peacefully out here even when i have laid in your bed all night twisting and twisting and twisting and

i have lost it again, until an 'oi!' jolts my subconscious out of first place and over the back of the podium. it induces anxiety, it makes me shudder uncontrollably sometimes, just sometimes. more questions, more very important nothing, disgust masking the deepest sadness behind his eyes. i close mine again. he is chopping up and i am making incomprehensible noises as my vague overtired body aches. it probably infuriates him more, i am somewhat aware of the effect, you are oblivious to the cause

pretending to sleep isn't going to get you out of this you know, i will continue to hound you until you give me the answer i want. whywhywhywhywhyfuckingwhy - time to pull out the big guns i think, you know i got some legal advice yesterday, yes that's right there's the tinge of fear in your eyes and you know if we break the lease you and i you and i have to pay it out for the rest of the 3 months, yes that's right so you better listen up cause i'm not going down easy, if it hurts then good. i need the control back i need you i fucking miss you

4am i got home, please leave me be. i am now distressed and anxious first thing in the morning, after last night being so fresh and so free... my conscious defenses are still in standby and i take hit after hit but now he is pulling that cone and breathing it straight back out at me, i hide my face so as not to have to smell it strong and clouded. he has to go to work, he has more to say, i am not even sure what these words have become but something hits and i curl up to cry. he gets in close and tries to touch tries to comfort tries to something - what, no this is not ok you think you can slam me into the ground and then pick me up and say baby who hurt you so bad here lemme fix it all up no you are not my cause or effect any longer. just go, i will push you out until you physically leave. not before the last word of course, but internal last words saying go, just go -

and so he does. breathe. watch him go (out of the corner of your eye in case he sees). he told you to get into bed, into your bed, into the bed that smells like him because he has been sleeping there more than i in the last week, it is full to the brim with his tears and confusion. but it is o.k, all in due course. breathe.

the wind and the boiling kettle make a similar sound. a rush, a push. the nicotine high dragging you back. it is cold and the air pushes down past the flue and into my (room). i will sleep here, i will give it up. it's not a question of compromise, just an understanding and accepting. now. warmth, sufficiency. the marks remain but bounce back fresh and alive. i have seen god. i will learn her ways and return with the force of the wave. this is what you did. this is what you did. this is what you did. this is what you did.





breathe it out and blow it away

i am saying now, this is it.

it is done.

p.s.

pressure release. you will deal. (un)do it yourself.

that's the reason

why is it that when i genuinely think i am ok, i still get tears welling after my friend puts his hand on my head and then walks away? or when my lover chooses to go somewhere else tonight, even if it is good for them? as i am comfortable and surrounded by familiarity and brisk hills air, i am so full of sorrow. his lyrics catch me every time, when i cannot pull them out from behind my own jaws he finds them hidden behind his medulla oblongata and screams that shit out.

and maybe revel; ations

i wipe my nose and hold my breath for a moment

tape unravels, and wire bends

i know it (, carry on?)

it's as you go to leave, as you actually leave

as i hang up the phone or as you exceed me -

you may see otherwise but these eyes are mine.

i like it when there's air, it mixes well with my tears

when things end

i have such minimal control and the anxiety wells up parallel

i hate it when i have to hide

beneath your cerebellum behind your holy teeth

it might just be hell to me

o.k.

and known again. before the cogs in the wall ticked over or the millions of bubbling explanations arose, it was already known. and the knowledge pushed it there, what irony O what a cruel twist of fate ye might say. but you don't. because it's just what happens. and so we do





he's sleeping in my bed. my bed smells like him. i am in the loungeroom, it is so cold in here. support networks are dwindling and disappearing, and that is what happens - and so we do. work to be done. no time to waste. fall over, be demon prey, fight or run like hell or just stand there prostrate waiting for it to alllllll come a-crashing down. do what you will. do.

wunts ah ghenn

and you know. what do you know? knowing what needs to be done, having known for so long now and still having pushed myself back, fear, darkness. it takes hold and it is even stronger now. this is what happens. pay attention, you already have. you can, you will, you have no other choice. resolve is being smelted down and re-molded, it must not have weaknesses this time. it can't.
physical. breathe, smell, see, get unstuck. it is not happiness. it is happiness' just-shed skin. she left a while back and you know it. you deserve better. we all do. you are on fire and under the ground and drowning and your head is so far off into the clouds that they are starting to look solid even as you push your skull through the rain.

practicality. get it done. you will find a way, you will just do. you must. these words cannot be unmade. nor can the last, or the ones before that. thoughts can be ignored, but they cannot be unmade either. not me it's you, not you it's me, not not it's not. neither. this is just how the cookie crumbles, so let's deal with it and be strong and know what is best for us and just let this go.

i t i s so good to feel the shudder of his blood pumping through his body, the sheer force of it makes the bed move oh so slightly. and he breathes.

softly, now

i tell myself instead of being myself

i need you to tell me
that i'm wrong

and what sort of psychologically twisted statement is that?
"It doesn't matter what i say so fuck it. You keep talking about how unstable you are and how upset this has made you and how i am the only one who can help it. Well your emotions are not my reponsibility. They are YOURS. If you feel like shit, find a way to make it better. But don't just call me up to tell me how hard i have made it for you. I love you so fucking much and i can feel how angry and deeply sad you are and it hurts me because i want you to be happy but I CAN'T DO IT FOR YOU. God fucking knows i've tried. And so my heart is breaking every day but the more we try to communicate the more we argue and just make it worse. I am exhausted."

doesn't take much to rip us into pieces...

and i hate and i hate and i hate and i hate and i can't handle this sort of bullshit any more. it spills from my mouth and into your eyes and then from your throat into my stomach. it just keep coming in all forms in vomit and bile and motherfucking rose petals and wires and black indian ink and snow and vegetables and pieces of lint. and my brain, my poor poor brain, just implodes incessantly. repeating the same tones and structures the same detachment the same fear the same sadness and meter and downcast self-deprecating retorts as if that will resolve anything.

i want to be done with it. i can't give him the love he needs because without allowing it in himself he will never get it. from anyone. let alone me.

i will see him. i will tell him that i love him but cannot be with him at this point in time. our communication is beyond the point of repair, our emotional attachment to each other is unhealthy and needs to be rectified. there is no point in trying to change yourself for someone else. you should only edit things about yourself if it will benefit YOU personally. any further than that is not your responsibility. this does not mean 'don't give a fuck about what others feel' - it's quite the opposite. be compassionate, be loving - but do not try to carry other people's emotional burdens because when you finally hand it back to them saying "my back is breaking" then they feel betrayed and put out because, what do you know, their wellbeing becomes their responsibility again and they haven't built up any muscle to carry it themselves.

rant. yeah, well it's who i am. and if you want to know, ask. but after you have asked don't forget to listen.

no more justification of my actions.
no more defensiveness (apart from that which is completely necessary)
no more weakness. she is here. my dreams are slippery and translucent but they are there. i am here.

stirring, down

so much, maybe too much. no; never. just the right amount of much.

it's like there is a constant neural fatigue relating to all the words that spill from my mouth when i am there. back in la selva subterranea: some paths are all too overgrown and no amount of hacking can get through. not at this point anyway. haven't graduated to a higher grade of sickle yet.

stirring in the deepest core of my self. i can embrace it, and i know what i need. i know when i need to clarify, or push, or pull, or vault myself over, gracefully or otherwise.
it's confusion. it's a lack of understanding or at least attempting to understand. simply putting that conscious effort in place will brighten the depths. even if it's just enough to make out the edges and shadows, it's a start. stop throwing things into that seemingly endless abyss. they just rust and decompose in there. after a lifetime you realize it's not endless; no, it is a forest you have smothered with old cars and dusty cardboard and plastic bottles and useless fraying wires. and when it starts to spill over the top suddenly you realize nothing can grow, not until it is all removed and re-cultivated and re-cycled. i think maybe that stirring is this, at least in part. these expulsive tendencies.

damage. is done. and reversed somewhat. and destruction returns so quickly when you are unaware or even when you are but not strong enough to overcome it constantly. no wonder things fall to shit when the environment is sterile and yet so caked with grease and grime you are overwhelmed by the lack of life. other than basic bacterial. let some fucking light in, for fuck's sake. you are suffocating. cockroaches, translucent pale cockroaches that have never had the chance to get a tan. the most resilient of insects. of course the more that collect the more that breed.

i love. please, for your own sake, let yourself.
falling on deaf ears or absorbed and then rejected into the pit
there is no absorption of nutrients. just let yourself process it. you are the only one who can save your own life. and i love you, therefore i love your life. but despite all of it, i can't save it. even if it seems that way to me, i am not useless because of this. just helpless when it comes to

come to. heart open, even if broken.

le petit morte

holding so weak so shudder and stretch i have seen these patterns before

held and losing

and i was being talked at when you finally got there so i kinda missed the moment

but your pupils dilated
became so still so quickly so lightlikefreefromfear

more clay than loam, roots and little pebbles
mint and rose bushes
hold and continue, release

days slip by like years. i am filled quietly, and with grace. cyclic, rippling, and condensed here. sensation heightened.

there is no love lost;
there is no lost.
it may give in like a sinkhole but
you are on the right side. you are the force -
the push.

movement ;