I’ve been ceasing to write much here, in terms of recording my physical experience. The higher elevation my Spirit soars upon seems so much more interesting. And somehow poetic self-expression has been stitching my heart back together solemnly. So I write in that manner, though I’ve been in the process of compiling text and new imagery for a book I plan to publish. Eventually. If any at all would be so interested in reading or further collaborating on such a thing. I’ve been almost in awe, surprised even, by how supportive everyone here has been. Well, some. Fuck the others who look down upon you like you only skated through those double doors after one too many Lucy bombs or scratch and sniffs. Motherfuckers act like I don’t know what planet they are on. And to them I would say the same applies, so “say your prayers, motherfuckers.” You won’t last long around here.
Furthermore, I do try to extend and adapt myself as much as possible. However, depleted now. I miss open land and open space without the obstruction of such destructive frequencies. I miss ecstasy and pure bliss in a natural form. Actions; not reactions. Thrills. Nature and natural beauty call me forth in my waking reality. Music plays through an open mind intrinsically connected to each part of you I still miss terribly. More than I have known how to miss anything– I miss love, and being truly loved. Perhaps I enjoy too much simply being alone. I can’t give myself to love you right anyway. Even still, I adore the parts of you that are untouchable in nature and somehow beautiful beyond any comparison. It doesn’t hurt the same, or rather, I haven’t felt the pain of losing you since you’ve gone. Sometimes I wish it would all be different one morning, but that seems to be the extent of it. The way that it used to be, although that may be entirely naive of me. Eventually it breaks down my senses and again I find myself alone scribbling furiously upon any shred of napkin or business card with an inch of free space.
It’s a shame; the events…
The ways in which life can queerly draw two twin-souls apart and a blessing when you can feel it inevitably drawing them back together. Strangely, it helps when an even flow of memories come flowing back to me effortlessly, though they at times have made me miss those little parts of you, however small, that tend to pull me back as I begin to turn away. The pain is less, though I miss our conversations. How very few were seldom likely to keep my interest piqued. It never ceases to amaze me. I know you hate me for the coffee– it’s not fancy these days. Less dark but still the muddied-milky brown substitute of economy coffees that settles; too much like me. Falling for anything with an open heart. It reminds me of you, how many times you ‘picked me up’ without ever physically being there to pull me out of the funk, when truthfully no one gave two fucks what I was experiencing or why. An obvious yearning for you to remember me occasionally occurs. Or maybe for me to remember some distant parts of myself that I had sent away to later come back. What sense does any of it make without love, anyway?
Writing became a bitter route to fruitless ends to you; a novel thing when such planning takes two. I bit my lip and stood still in frozen lands. The writing, however, was much less stubborn though far less captivating than the taste of you, which would take another few pages to decipher and birth true depth into.
You always seem to have the upper hand. Although it never lessened; I now have you here wondering if I’ve yet to learn my lesson.
As for the present, it is so, I live worlds apart from you. And you’re still in the middle of nowhere.
For the time being I find solace in getting lost, meeting your wild heart in another galaxy of thought where our bodies may never touch but our minds meet heavily– limitless and without bounds. More or less, free. Still, I anxiously await the moment that all will exist as we had once envisioned. I’m simply here to blow people’s fucking minds and realign the planets or something.