Anxiety

DATE: Jun 29 2009, 9:44 pm / MOOD: Don't know

She's the sort of girl who likes flowers because they'll die for her.

 

Which is why I need her around.

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DATE: May 12 2009, 8:38 am / MOOD: Tired

Henry Miller makes my thoughts these days.  They, my thoughts, are colorful and wonderful but wild.

My garden is blooming; it's insane.  Tiny ferns appearing all about, they come up from the ground like crouching men....I also have Jack in the Pulpits, Bleeding Hearts, Columbine, Irises.  I play a game sometimes; "You have two weeks to get pretty before I pull you....." 

Random green things turn into fireworks. 

And I feel something tugging at my hair. 

 

 

 

Even Miller had an editor. 

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DATE: Apr 29 2009, 4:21 pm / MOOD: Other

Dear Horrid Toad Beast Man,

I do not feign to be important enough to discuss anything with you, much less the intricacies of your personal life, but if there's anything my Da did say about me; t'was that I was too bold for my own good and God help the lad who uttered his intentions before realizing my inclinations.  I offer my Da's words not as an excuse, but as a peace frond, that we may continue forward instead of slogging ourselves in blustering and posturing.

Dear Horrid Toad Beast Man,

I have heard your blustering and posturing.  As a civil, willing, and ever loyal servent to my Lady for these past years I must congratulate you on the successes of your evil conivery.  I hope though that you have not dared to think we, her faithful subjects, would not see you for what you actually are.

Your actions have escalated our reactions from dramatic eye rolls to well
thought out plans of knee smashing.  Perhaps you think that dramatic or frightning.  A threat.
One could argue it is just a joke, a hyperbole; comparable to a  threat from someone a gal was intimate with that he would blow the lid on a relationship to the other's spouse.  

I won't really shatter your knees.  You won't really tell.  But we both dream.  

Knowing that is potent enough.

I am in no position to post ultimatums.  I have no right to lob threats.  I have no right to assume I know the truth.

That said, if you do not remove the teeth of your lamprey heart from around the wounded rose of my Lady's, I can promise you will feel deep and honest regret.
 
A clever spider traps many flies in his web.

Your web holds only one.

Unfortunatly, she has many friends.

And we,

We are wasps.

I will not pretend to know the pain you feel or the trials you face because of
the curse that plauges you.  I only ask you free my Lady, for if you truly
loved her you would know it was the most loving thing you could do.

With Concern,
elfrover

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DATE: Apr 06 2009, 7:21 pm / MOOD: Sad

You,



I've been waking up with cold sweats lately, dreaming about the end.  There is a hole in my life.



I don't mind that it ended.  Truly.  I've forgiven you for turning me homeless, for leaving me in the lurch in another country with no one to go to, for refusing to even answer my calls after we lived together and f@cked for five years.  I've even forgiven you for cheating on me with my best friend's girlfriend.



None of that stuff I mind.  None of that stuff is what I dream about.



I dream about you being erased.  Gone.  Nothing.  Like you never were.  Freaky.  As I said, I wake in fear.



Seven years.  Seven years of my life....a big blank hole.  Empty.



Wiping you from those seven years, that's not what scares or angers me.  Oh, don't think that.  I'm better off now, four years later.  I know.  But sometimes I'm asked about that period of time and I search and search myself and have nothing to say.



I've yet to figure out where/who I was back then and am realizing I was just as blank and pathetic as I accused you of being.  I wake in fear because I'm gone.  Not you.  Me.



There is a hole in my life, but it's not where you used to be.  It's where I used to be.  And I am angry at myself for ever letting you erase me for that long.



I am becoming solid now.  Whole.



You will never know that.



And it makes me smile.



Suck on that, You.



-Me

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DATE: Feb 24 2009, 8:13 pm / MOOD: Happy

Usually the air around me is too full of bangs and clangs; my head is too irrated with it's own chatter to hear it;

Which is sad

Because I've noticed randomly (on my goodish days) when he does certain things he makes small noises

Like car broooooms or warp drive activate woooshes.

 

Each boyish vrooooom is like the chirp of a baby spring bird.

Cheesy, but I love it.  Perhaps because I too make small noises.  Perhaps because I've been so caught up in my big noises that I haven't been able to hear my or anyone elses tiny ones.

 

I'm setting traps for small noises.  I'm making a point.  Scream as softly as you can.  I want to try to listen.

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DATE: Feb 07 2009, 6:24 am / MOOD: Happy

The woman who runs the register at Citgo paid the 4 cent change for my apple and energy drink earlier this morning.  Almost immediately afterwards I involved myself in an argument of epic size in the dry hang-yourself-heat of my office while wearing a sweater I hate and having eaten nothing all day but an apple and an energy drink.  He turned to walk away and I started crying and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to run back to that sweet woman at the gas station, give her four pennies back and say, "It's not fracking worth it.  Your four pennies aren't going to make a sh!t of difference".



Later, after the skies turned a more subtle shade of anger, there was hugging and some teasing.



"Are you sure you want to do this?  Love me forever and always and also mow the lawn?"



He handed me a quarter, still warm and damp from his pocket.



"What the frack am I supposed to do with this?"



He shrugged.  "Maybe you might need it someday for the bus.  I can spare it.  It's change."  His voice got heavier.  "It adds up."



I held the silver apology in my open palm for a long minute.



"Thank you?"



"I donno," he said.  "Sometimes that extra random sense makes all the difference. "

 

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DATE: Feb 06 2009, 3:20 pm / MOOD: Lonely

My tears are bees; they swarm from me without stopping.  Full of venom, they carry my thoughts like pollen into the flower of your ear and I feel it in my soul as you swat them away and their furry husks hit the floor.

Maybe one will sting you so I can suck at the wound and our eyes will meet.  You will see them squeeze from the corners of my face, hear their drone and notice their dance, and realize what it is I'm trying to tell you.

If only I could make myself heard over the constant buzz.

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