light touches

light touches

of the hand

remind me that you once called it a physical weakness.

and while they make me weak in the knees,

i don't feel weak without them,

though i'm much stronger with them.

such lightness

creates substance.

that absence isn't a loss, is something that the mind fathoms,

but doesn't easily accept.
separation from a usual comfort
brings along feelings of dispiritude

that are washed

away

by happier things.

devoid of

motion
of movement

and yet.
going somewhere.

and it's on.

sometimes I'm shattered,
and it's not just fatigue.

but lovely white flowers fill the breeze with refreshment.

sometimes.

sometimes things appear differently,
conjectures are wrong,
estimations are off.

who knows?

and again.

although i wrote about this last night,
i just had to.
just had to write again,

about how i felt waking up,
excited, anticipating,
unable to sleep.

unable to sleep the whole way.

because i know when it comes to it, i'll now be able to.

nights of disturbed sleep
and tossing and turning,

end now.

fulfilment.

because anticipation doesnt capture it,
the fullness of emotion,
the anxiety of fulfilment,
the removal of separation.

because sometimes
sometimes you try to put things in words,
but realise they dont need it.

they dont need to be articulated,
dont need to be explained

but embraced,
appreciated.

another one.

just because sometimes bastard isn't a strong enough word.
because saying you're a spineless idiot who doesn't have the right to live is tiring, though true

and because it's not helping things.
f off. seriously.
have some pride.

how can you go on and on, and ask your wife why she didnt outright accept your affair as a friend.
how does that even seem feasible.

desperation for a woman,
and desire for sex,
and just plain wanting to be wanted

is f-ing irresponsible.

set off on a vitrolic rant yesterday, as a result of a man bashing his wife when she was already down.

already obvious what i feel about such stuff.
the hurt that he caused is nothing compared to the pain

of living in her shoes right now.

but i detect a change in my attitude.

one less encompassing to all of male-kind,
one less harsh to the generalities of reality,

and one totally adept to accepting the sheer bastardness of a single black sheep.

happiness.

it's been a strange time.

jetlagged for the first time,
and now with enough time on my hands to think about things, because i really am spacing out time for something of higher priority.

my dependence on holding a singular shirt near, is a little scary, and yet not at all.

ivan says
maybe you're finally growing young, like im benjamin button inside,

but i think perhaps im just learning to take myself as i am, now.
i dont have to be someone older than i actually am because the expectations put on me are just what i need right now,
dont have to act like someone more enthusiastic or younger than i am, because he doesnt expect it.
doesnt need me to be anyway but the way i want myself to be,

and then reminds me of it.

i've been jetlagged for a few days, and im wondering if it's also because im just feeling stressed up about some things, and not entirely able to rest.

had a nightmare last night,
or perhaps that's an exagerration.

i dreamt that dad found out,
and blamed me for it
and accused irresponsibility and immaturity,
to which i responded to with childish refuttal, when really i should have just met up to him and said it.

acknowledged it, and showed myself as happy as i am.

perhaps it's time soon to be happy enough and not scared,
to show that im happy.

sometimes happiness feels so transient, and then that leads to a very malevolent uncertainty
because you dont dare to hold on too tightly to things that make you happy,
in the fear that you'll grow dependent, and then when it's gone

because you never know if it's permanent,
because you should never feel that way take such things for granted,

you become less of a person than you were before.

but regardless of how everything turns out,
im better for this.
because i realise that it's made me more of a person.
or maybe not. it's made me feel more of a person than i did previously, that's probably right-er.

but i wonder if such neuroticism could truly stem from having to act older that i was previously,
just because my emotions weren't accepted, weren't embraced.

but now, even the bad things are.
even my horrible moods are taken in stride, as graciously, or as ungraciously as i need it to be.

it's sure something.

love.

so much prettiness.

talking does an amazing sort of good, when you realise that silence isn't always silence
and that you're content with it.

i really like this.
such a floaty

sort of feeling,
that keeps me
grounded.

what on hell.

just because you have a problem and can't deal with, stop blaming your wife for it.

if you have the balls to cheat, the balls to do it repeatedly, then f-ing have the balls to deal with it. stop telling her that she's the reason you left, that she's the reason you had to turn to someone else. it takes two hands to damnably clap, and if you keep pushing the blame to her, transferring the wrong you did, then quite frankly you dont have the equipment to be human, much less a man.

you didnt cheat just once, you did it repeatedly. good that she can deal with it, that she doesnt break down under such maltreatment. but it doesnt f-ing mean you ought to kick someone when they're down, just because they arent showing you that they're in pain.

she watched your kids, left her job, to take care of them and of you. you and your temper, your inconstancy.

COMPLETE AND UTTER NONSENSE that you feel like you have the ability or the right to vent it out on her.

so what if you're frustrated at work. it doesnt mean you sucuumb to distractions or temptations elsewhere and tell her

"but oh, i couldnt tell you"

isnt the point of marriage the fact that you deal with someone, live with someone, and share your problems?

and then because she was so good at home and taking care of your kids, you who did so little and yet complained so much, tell her that she didnt focus on you.

which is why you strayed.

how does that conce



how does it even conceivably make sense to you that you can blame such on her. that because she had other responsibilities, which she took on from you so you could work, that she hence didnt spend enough time, enough effort on you.

what makes you suppose you can keep taking, and whine like a child, act like a bastard just because you didnt receive as much attention as you would have liked. what are you, five years old?

and when she quit her job, you not only not help with her adaptation to her new environment, but imposed further stress on her?

let's not even talk about being a man or a woman. you clearly fall into the area of bastard.

which is less than human, and not even animals would do such nonsense. they're clearly polygamous, or monogamous, and dont pretend to be the other. dont pretend that their stray from monogamy was caused by them having the wrong partner.

regain your f-ing pride. stop trying to swing those balls of yours around when they clearly dont exist.

reflections, re-fractions

sometimes things strike you strangely.

not always a niggling thought, never a persistent worry, but the fact tha tyou feel something is probably the indication that sometimes not quite right.

how do we suppose we ought to think.

%^&*(*&^ behavior.

i crumbled.

succumbed to my childish tendencies, and accused negligence, when really it was my sensitivity that ought to be changed.

but i appreciate the patience

depend on it
need it.

need to be told im being whiny and overly sensitive and childish.
for not considering the same level of emotion.

i should stop it.

just because it strikes me that sometimes I have things to say,
but no one to say it to. or no one i particularly want to say it to.

but just because my emotions are crucial to me, and I don't often get the chance
to say as I wish
to feel what I wish.
and how do I know if what I'm thinking is what I'm meant to.

selfvalidation is an important thing to selfrealization, and sometimes I wonder enough abt myself, and my thoughts,
to question their rightness, or appropriateness.
does it truly matter that your emotions aren't standard to everyone elses, that people have the same experience but different emotions
does it matter any longer, when what you feel is your emotions. yours and no others.

feeling slightly squashed under expectations, and not just that of other people.
why is it that sometimes you're so sure of who you are, and then it all crumbles

and you're left staring at the debris
and wondering if there was even any glue holding you together before.

or were you just a cleverly arranged structure of rocks that was meant to crumble at first breeze.

does it matter truly what lay underneath if the facade's so neatly arranged and constructed.
the first instinct is to say yes, of course. but what if you look before the surface and realize a truth about yourself that makes it hard to continue
hard to even be a facade again. let's not even talk about bringing the underneath above.