On Squirrels

an anonymous person once told me that men are like squirrels.
sometimes, when they find the best nuts
the most perfect nuts
they decide they are too lovely to eat
and hide them away for a later day.

but keeping them hidden becomes diffiicult
and they wonder, is the nut still as lovely?
so they go back, dig it up, inspect it
savour its presence for a short while
and then bury it again.

for knowing the nut is there
and exists
even buried deep in the earth
is comfort enough.

I have two squirrels. Two men who have buried me away.
Occassionally they return and dig me up
tell me how much i was (am) loved
how they wished they had enjoyed me when they could

but now, its just too difficult
complicated
the twists and turns of life has left the consumption of nuts
from long ago
impossible.

but, because i have a weakness for squirrels
when the earth above me starts to move
and i know they have come to dig me up
i always

seem to answer them
to show them what they missed
to let them taste the sweet meat of me.

and so the earth above me rustles now
and i feel the anticipation of
getting only the best of someone
for a short time
but
but
i think i'm getting to the point
where being alone
is better than a short time
with even the best of the squirrels

I write this today to remind myself later. I write this today to remind myself later.
We are in the midst of change my girl.
And someone out there wants you forever.
And the short term is not a long term solution.
I just want to be aware this time.
I just want to be awake
not in a sleepy fog of a long rest under a deep soil.

Blood

I've been silent for a long while now
rejecting the need to speak

but theres more to say

and I feel weak

the stuffing motion
the avoidance
i guess i've become immune to it

somehow, somewhere

the voice inside me has pushed up
out
bursting pores with want to be heard

this will be difficult

i'm not sure how to approach it

this will be difficult


This is the sixth year of blood. I promised myself this would be all. This year I would go back and recapture everything I had lost.

I lied.

I think I have lied a lot for a long time. and as every piece of me, of that lie gets rooted away i come to the realization that some work has to be done here.

i say I don't know who I am anymore, but I wonder if I ever knew?

Like she said: I learned to cope at eight. Eight. And that coping has become and intricate web of illusion reflecting light from places too dark to explore.

Did I ever really have a chance Susan? Can I fix this now?