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Sometimes
Sometimes there are feelings I yearn to get back, moments I wish to relive, words I hope fall off my tongue once more, how lucky, how naive I’ve been to moments that I can never retrieve. There is a man I keep thinking about, but I fear that I plague myself with false illusions. That is all built on the premise of… well, obsession and fantasy. My intrigue always stems from a place of fascination and fantasy, I worry in my act to become normal again or revive some sort of calmness in me, that this is a step back. A regression if you will, but the hopeful side of me doesn’t want to believe that, the hopeful side wants to try. For what it’s worth… it’s worth everything, completely everything. I want to say thank you, and hello, and maybe fall deep into a conversation about what it was like to grow up in Palm Springs and… I’m sorry you had to see me like that. The truth is, no one has ever seen that side of me, no one at all, not even the false “lovers” who “knew me so deeply”, not even them. There I was, completely out of my mind, fully myself, shivering in the cold, as I poured out my agony. Yes, that’s his job I remind myself, but it really felt like he cared. In the car, I wish I had said something along the lines of, “thank you for listening to me”, because no one’s really listened to me before, like actually listened in, decoded the words I was saying, and following up with more questions. No one at all. I feel embarrassed that he saw me in that light, I couldn’t even look at his face when he asked me to look up, the way he pronounced my name, “Elizabeth” sounded exactly like my brother Juan’s voice. And instantly, there I was, 9 years old and ashamed, feeling sorry for a mistake I just did, feeling the heaviness of my brothers words, and praying to be better. Praying for his acceptance, praying for all of their approval, praying that I could be perfect, forever and ever. It never leaves us, does it? It’s encoded in our skin I suppose. I want to reach out, maybe for coffee we can go over our life, maybe I can just stop by with a gift in hand and extend my gratitude, maybe I can look him in the eyes this time and just say thank you, “thank you for saving my life”.
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untitled.
I am an erosion,
of all your best dreams,
yet too far to reach,
falling apart at the seams.
Can you hear the whispers?
the voices running through,
they fall short on your cold fingers,
all while, I'm trying to get to you.
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Ascension in April.
Alignment in April.
Awakening in April.
Acceptance in April.
Abundance in April
Artistry in April.
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“The Decline of Western Civilization”, Penelope Spheeris, 1981
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“Untitled” (Key West), Félix González-Torres, 1992
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Kyoko Ina and Stefania Berton
Capodanno On Ice 2012
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and so, I pray
With mountains made of pebbles, and shields of rocks, and clouds that cast shadows on your house, and the dry tree in the middle of the desert that still sprouts leaves. May we be here now, every moment, every second, let our souls be here, rejoicing in every moment. I don’t want to wait for my life to be over to encounter everlasting joy and love, it is here now, it is all around me. I am loved because I am love, and so are you. Your soul can never be bought or renounced, your spirit is all yours, if we cannot see it, touch it, smell it, how can someone possibly take it from you? You are bound by nothing, you are limitless, do not let your mind entrap you, believe that you are free, because you are. You are free and perfect my little birdies, you are everlasting life.
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