Eye Say

I want to read you
Line by Line
Blind words like braile
in tongue
Different languages
All for comprehension’s
Sake

I want to understand your purpose
Be engaged in your plot
Responsible for your climax
I want to know why you were written

I want to be transported into your conception
And dissect your literary theory

I’m trying to understand.
I’m trying to be your reader
You own personal audience
That lives and breathes your every page

Let me walk along your spine
Vibrating in applause
Standing ovation to your very existence

I just want to read you
Line by Line
Until there is no ending
Just infinite anticipation

Vienna Sausages and Spam

Often we lie because we do not want to deal with the consequences of the truth. Truth leaves traces of life etched on our skin. It’s unavoidable. The effects of lying, denying the truth its birth, is a condition that likened to an abortion. What was there is no longer and what is left is a shell we attempt to deny.

I suck at relationships. Always have. I try my best to be the best mate I can but in the end, the words always win. As my partner requires more and more time, the words require more and more of me. I have been told this is only an excuse and to someone unmotivated by the creative spirits, it would be. But this gift is a marriage and it takes the part of me that most people long to give to someone else.

I know the outcome to the story. Its not new. I’ll create these friendships with side order memories of love lost. I will accomplish my goals and have  everything my heart can’t buy. But, in the days when the creativity finally begins to fade and the only thing to lend solace will be the gentle hands of a lover, I will be alone.

It is that thought that drives me to try. It is the very action I partake to release these thoughts that drive me away. SO I keep pushing. Adding to my plate leftover parts from undying love.

She has a part of me that I don’t want back. She has my truth; my love. And I can only pray when the creativity abandons me for a younger, bolder expression, long after she’s moved on and forgotten my name, I will be more than an empty shell remembering the lies I never told.