consciousnessofstream

Basically, for anyone reading this, it's the spillover. so there are times when it's dry for a while, where the river is flowng steady, and times when the runoff needs to gather.

dear i feel we're facing a problem...

i know i can't be there for l. the way she needs me to be there right now but i don't know how. to help her reach out and get a sense of what exactly she's standing up against. and standing up for because i know that she's so right. and so unwilling to listen to reason: she refuses to listen to anything that doesn't rhyme with her.

i can't care bout anything but you

a whole day in your company makes my heart belt out tiny arias of pleasure/the sunlight on your skin sending signals/sensing the softest love/lap kis lap lap/the waves the kissing shore awash warm wet mm warm wet oh wet ohhhwarmm mm m wet wet wet wet

it feels like everything that i want to say to you has been said before and you have heard it all.
i don't want to come off as trite; i want you know how real i am when i tell you how i love you
and still you wonder why i am so quiet all the time.

...

late nite

he gnaws on your enduring love
mine he swallows without a second thought

yeah thanks approximately

and yet sometimes after
it seems too much
like too much

i don't wake up.

lettre ouverte

et quand j'ai dit que je toujours veut voyager avec toi

and when you knew what i meant

and when it feels like i'm spiralling in opposite directions

et tu m'ancres

lors je sais

et quand ici sont si confortable que la

et quand tout c'est l'un


like it never quite was before you

then


i know

Monday again and everyone is saying how their weekend was good but too short. Friday again and it’s do you have any plans and have a great weekend you too as if they really care or as if they won’t forget what you just said after they’ve walked away. And everyday time seems to flow in the wrong direction and you find yourself staying at the office till six on the day you came in at seven and the doorman/security in the lobby says g’morning when you walk in because by now he recognizes you and g’night when you walk out as if that was part of his job or like he cared that your mornings or nights were any good at all. And you put on your face the one that everyone smiles at even though you know that inside they hate that you look happy because that must mean that you are happy and inside they are cursing you and they are trying to compare themselves to you and beat you, coming out ahead in the final evaluation, when its really the judging that they hate and not your supposed happiness at all.

You go home so tired you want to cry and sometimes you do. Not really for yourself but for the fact that you have it so easy which is the one thought that brings a smile an honest-to-god smile to your face when you’re walking across the river to get a can of soup and the snow is flaking all over everything and everyone has their faces turned toward the ground and contorted against the cold and you want to yell STOPPIT! Stop pretending like you have it so hard. Don’t you have a fraction of an idea of how fucking lucky you all are?! But instead you just let the smile bubble up and stick on your face, and you grin and grin all the way across the river as the tiny frozen flakes land on your eyelashes and your lips. You see the quizzical looks of the people who can’t possibly twist their faces any tighter as they catch your eye and see you smiling on such snowy a gray day.

You wake in the arms of the love you’ve found, the love you didn’t know you were looking for, and for a moment you forget what it feels like to be sad. Your eyes forget and your nose forgets and your teeth and your toes forget, and you don’t think about anything outside of the warm radius of this love (which of course encompasses the dog as well but stops just short of the alarm clock) until you get up and dressed and back on your feet, heading for another Monday again.