“What is inside you (thoughts, feelings etc) that should be out to the world, but aren’t? Do you have anything inside you that is out, but that you didn’t want to be? Or maybe you are relieved that these ‘inside’ feelings are finally ‘out’?”
I enjoy Sunday mornings because it is the only time I don’t feel stressed. My fiancé Mason and I often take Deme our lab, to the dog park.
Today, Deme has spied ducks walking onto the grass by the lake. ” Deme come,” I say sternly. “Mommy says come here now.” She gives me that look dogs give you when they are going to do what they want even when you tell them ‘No.’
Deme picks up the tiniest duckling in her mouth.
“Down, put the duckling down, Deme.” Mason warns. Deme begins to shake the duckling and play with it. “Deme no! Bad dog.” Mason says in a deep threatening voice.
Then to our amazement there is only a fluff of feathers. I’m not sure how, but our lab has swallowed a duckling, with only a few chomps. Mama duck is furious and chases Deme everywhere.
” Come here, Deme.” I shout to her. She comes quickly, begging me to save her with a whimper. But I am too late, Mama duck bites Deme on the butt, three times.
There is something horrid about Deme eating a precious tiny duckling. But then again, as Darwinian’s would put it, it’s natural selection.
Waiting, it drains me, I wish I could abstain from the anger I feel.
But illness changed me, and my patience left me at odd angles freely
Floating up into the sky, all I have is anxiety and no reply.
Commit to a time of day, and realize you can’t change those plans swiftly.
Because my life’s concentrated, generated so that I’m always looking forward, dancing in circles for events.
Not in these distended lines, that you might run your life into.
What’s the deal? I could have kept you company, wouldn’t that have been the worst idea?
Don’t try to separate me out such as eggs, yokes left in a tiny dish and only the whites suffice.
I’m not just for a date, I’m for everyday, but nothing changes, time flits away.
Don’t you know the daytime is the zenith of my rise?
And it’s hard to get my way when you only pick the dead of night to live.
A place I fade away twilight into coal, it’s not always a solution but a thick choking smoke.
I want to live in a chorus of sunspots and rays upon my back, shining in my eyes.
Don’t you understand when you get tired and when I become tired, it’s not the same weakness?
You’ll never understand how it feels to be me, wishing for an energy to cradle and use,
In beauty bold streams of light and the dark deep night.
I wish not to be forgotten as reels of film spun until age has stripped them of their former glory, it’s gory living this way.
Waiting for people to understand, knowing that wind whistles through their brains.
Understanding gone as trains passing overcoming the wale of the night time owl.
His eyes are wise, until the hawk gets a hold of his feathers, and whether you get the beat of my life,
I wander, too many nights I’ve squandered waiting for the time to hit a certain hour.
Only to be tricked and mercilessly a coward, trying to make you comprehend the pain gently,
That hits right about this time, when I have nothing left as 4:30 pm chimes and I collapse until 7.
You move at your own pace, I think I want someone to leave me out of this chase.
Because I am meek and nothing will make me less then hollow
And years in the future I believe, you’ll never know me inside out
Because you’re so focused, you’ll just forget past elegances and glance away
And leave me to solitude, confined to the room, giant habiscus waiting to flourish.
Someone few understand needs you to keep time, to make time tick past single dots on a clock – punctuality is not a crime.
Show respect and suddenly, learning happens if you let others help you engage.
Instead of living life alone, unto yourself, picture a life with pulsing color and vibrancy, picture this…
Just because we need live in the hour of the glass, doesn’t mean life will be boring.
Why just the opposite – red, and magenta, and turquoise blue all these colors I dream with you.