desire

A consistent urge to utter

forgive me
forgive me
forgive me

And a consistent whisper in return

of course
of course
of course

A source of exoneration.
A place to adore and to repent.

Something like a bow.

the desire to confess
to be known utterly
and to still hear
yes.

don't need no

 Seems legit.

One girl's contribution to the class potluck:

out of context

me:
-That place was magic to us.  Magnetic, still.
-And ordered pizza?  I think that was the first day I tried on skinny jeans.
-Took 3 naps today.  Ate two corndogs.  Gonna go read about wolves for awhile.  LIVING.
-Is this what will become of us?  These concerns?  These fixations?
-And bouncing around in slow motion!  It's almost unbelievable.  Almost.
-Are you thriving or surviving?
-Yeah, ouch.  It hurts.  Sorry in advance.  Proceed with caution.
-Little by little.  maybe maybe.  Try try try.

them:
-Lightning strikes.
-There is no such thing as growing out of a mole.
-We will come back to this place.
-Do you want a banana?  I've seen you eat a lot of bananas.
-If your farts were visible would you still fart in public?
-Deal
-Don't leave without hotdogs.
-Yeah.  Struck a nerve.

loving is a dangerous thing to do

loving is a dangerous thing to do

even in small amounts

every expansion and every release

comes with a stronger contraction of doubt

this is the best that i can do-

considering all

(considering all)

words that have been rehearsed and said

are very easy to say again

and the deeds, they speak for themselves

but then

an uncomfortable descent

(Morrison knew)

a reckoning with some rusted memory box

an urge to apologize 

incessant chattering, clarifying nothing

lonely for the lie

for all of my attempts

my best won't be enough

again

the offering is exhausting  

giving away your tells
opening up your insides to an unforgiving,

harsh light scrutiny

(repulsive)

it's hard to remember what

it feels like, now

to have laid it all bare and to still be there

or how it ever felt right before

rusted

rust and grey- a winter array

you knew that this was coming

resting consuming investing clothing stepping growing saving asking looking toning cutting watching moving knowing

a critical voice wakes me up in a panic

from some happy dream

not sure quite how to get myself there anymore-

what i like from your face, what i trust in your core

not sure quite how

when there's nothing at stake

when there's no keeping and nothing to lose

i don't know how to believe 

that someone's words might match their deeds

so i won't assume and i won't wager,

keep myself safe from all those

obvious dangers

let's not even talk about next year

it is still in between the head and the heart

but it's nothing like a home

go to bed and wrestle that subconscious part

tomorrow, wake up alone

defeat

Seems like everyone's feeling a little defeated around this time of year.  A pressure cooker of obligations in every walk of life.  The students are two scantron bubbles away from insane, and I'm about one cafeteria meal away from joining them.

Today I had to exercise my Mandated Reporter title based on what a student wrote in her warm-up exercises.  I can't remember ever having to do that before- at least not to this extent.  When I read it, everything slowed right down for a second- and then everything sped up.  A rush.  A life saver thrown to sea.  Please, don't be too late.

I'm not sure how to even feel.  I feel a lot.  I don't know what that means.  I could have identified a bit of melancholy, but I had no idea of the extent.  Some people bear the weight so silently.  

I thought of her for the rest of the day.  And on the drive home.  And throughout the evening. I wonder if she's ok right now.  Wonder if she gets a break from it sometimes. Wonder if it will all pass with time.  Wonder where anything begins or ends. 

The reality is-

hers is a very solitary struggle.  so very inside.  somewhere words don't reach.  

some harsh and tempting depth.

But the other reality is-

sometimes you need other people to lift you up a little while you try to want to swim.

come on

Throw yourself into an all-giving ocean. Name it after a hurricane. Drift awhile on some new wetness. Thrash around longer than you should just to defy the drown. The tide comes and goes. It'll always go.

Linger
Longer
Then
less and less

Sn  a  p

Ssssssssssnake
$79.99
Sssssssssshhhh
Esssssssssssss
No need to
Ssssswallllooww

Hisssssssssssssss

Hollow words

Coiled somewhere snug
Safe, stifled and starving
Release it up my sleeve.
You've really got a
Hold on

Hollow
Is it me
(you're looking)
PLAY

Come on.

the past is prologue
he said that once, to her
and now there's a baby baby
and some could have but didn't.

A prolonged production of the most important part.  Proper then primal. Prepare. Postpone. Perform. paddle paddle paddle. Process, perhaps.

This is all foreplay.
This is all foreplay.
This is all.