Saturday, October 25, 2014

I Might Look Back and Cringe

When I run it reminds me I can't go back.
I have never run backwards ever in my life.
I run in circles sometimes, but we're passing each other and running into each other, on our way up.
Picture a pyramid shaped mountain with a castle at the top.
We're all running around and around the mountain...
Every time we make a loop we get closer to the top and the circle gets smaller.
But the circumference of the base was so broad that it takes us over a third of our lives to get close to the top.
The castle looks different to each of us.
For me it looks gothic, like some of those castles in movies like "The Dark Crystal."
The strange thing is that I don't remember whether there was a castle in that movie, but I know what I think it looks like.
The man I'm in love with reached the top recently, but I'm not there yet.
But I saw him, because he took a walk back down to see me.
But when we saw each other there were other people around.
So we acted like we didn't know each other.
When I think about the times we've done that I feel happy in my heart.
I love seeing him and pretending I don't know him.
It's one of my favorite things.
I think he likes to test me.
To see if I still love him.
Comforting for me, is the idea that he'll provide for me no matter what.
He provides me with endless adventures in life no matter where I go.
He'll bring me what I need when I need it.
I don't have to seek outside of myself.
I can be whole and throw away desperation.
I still do things that don't make sense.
When I give someone a piece of myself it doesn't mean I want anything back.
I really don't.
I like having different parts of myself with people in different places.
I thought maybe it was a bad sign if I gave something and was instantly asked for more.
But no, I think it must mean something about someone's desire to take all of me.
I can't say.
Actually the more I run up, the more confused I feel.
It's because I'm surprised.
I thought I successfully destroyed myself in a certain sense.
But here I am and I...there's something I missed.
Come back, come back to me.
I want to know.
Give me the secret.
It has something to do with playing a part so completely you believe yourself.
It has something to do with playing a part so well your flesh starts acting too.
It has something to do with being so believable it becomes real and the marks are set in history.
And for me, only me, it means speaking to people in their own language after hearing them for only a moment.
And it means being courageous enough to allow people to work everything out with me.
So that when they walk away they do it when they're ready.
So, here I am, and I'm speaking to certain people.
But not others.
There are some people I can only speak to when they call on me.
When they call on my heart.
And if you called me to tell me you couldn't handle it.
I heard you saying so and despite your confusing messages I hung up the phone.
When you come back around to me in your heart I think I'll know.
There are people who don't understand my writing.
I don't say anything that doesn't mean anything to me.
Everything means something to me.
It doesn't matter: but I don't write for other people.
I hear what I write before I write.
This poem was written before I sat down.
All of my poems are the same anyway.
They are between me and one other person.
How could the content all be between just two people?
I don't know.
But, well, sometimes, wow I thought I lost him.
But I never did.
This emotion is so particularly strong today - resurgence of overpowering love.
I have to run now.
He's not even in the castle anymore.
He's gone, but I have to make it to the top.
Urgency - while I stall...because I want to say:
I actually don't know who "he" is.
Which is what he wants.
-I think-but thinking is overrated.
If I listened to my mind tell me what to do I would run for ten minutes instead of an hour.
My mind thinks work is overrated.
I realize I could have stopped when I was "ahead."
"I have to run now" was a great place to stop.
This has never been about writing the best poetry.
And actually it's not about love either.
I'm having a conversation with someone I like to talk to.
When I write I see evidence of his response scattered throughout my life.
I write about fourth wall breaks.
I don't write about myself finally making it to the mythical castle and having all my dreams fulfilled.
Actually what probably happens is I get there and the place is drafty.
And the light is terrible, so my lover left, because he couldn't paint there.
So, when I saw him as he was pretending to not know me as he walked down, he had no intention of coming back.
And in our relationship we're usually completely across the earth from each other.
It used to be that he acted like he didn't even want to see me.
Now I feel like maybe I don't want to see him, because I know what it means.
But damn me, because I underestimate him all the time.
And he can't underestimate me, because as fast as my processor works, it also produces public announcements.
How much I hold back being irrelevant.
And in this moment I realize what he's done to me.
He's given me a career in a position he can control.
However, I won't be surprised by alterations.
My point of view on the love of my life is that he is capable of absolutely anything.
A revelation he told me about a long time ago.
A revelation he came to by way of me.
A revelation neither of us thinks is a revelation anymore.
I think I might be a little too fixated.
Perhaps an understatement.
I might be waiting in the castle for a while.
Just to have a place to think.
And when I sigh, you'll know, and I'll know.
I have to go.

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