falling, falling, fallen...

self delusion rendered to tiny bits of flotsam,
fading into the aquamarine.

ephemeral technology the lifeline that stills the drowning
the voice, velvet steel soft,
reminiscent of evenings of music, real food and secret promises.
feeds the soul.


fingers twitching to trace spine and skull in a single sinuous line.
hand trapped like a fragile bird in an iron cage,
sweet breath in my hair.
an arched back, an elbow, a flexed knee.
the slow rumble of belly laughter and a smile.
feeds desire.

the discovery of almonds, the same cadence walking.
the protective hand in the middle of my back,
possessive yet barely there not interfering with my freedom.
silly ditties, serious conversation and silence that never really is.
feeds the heart.

and decade old walls come a crumbling down,
bits of sand into the whirlwind
to fade into the aquamarine.

s'been awhile

salty ocean overlays 10W30 singing to me all the day long. soft sweet strong and giggly like a school girl when slowpoke shows up at casa de speedy. a powerful, gentle tide that wipes away footprints of past travails while inviting you on a new adventure. pushing you to be more than you allow yourself to be, yet shielded from the overbearing crowd like a hidden lagoon along a rock ridden shore.

letting yourself go where you promised yourself you would no longer tread. closing your ears to reason with the sultry tang of man running in your veins. tossed about the ocean of desire and cradled in friendship's embrace, lulled to peaceful sleep by the intertwining melody of heartbeats rustling sheets and snores.

fighting to hold on to that wicked independence that has cost you so much ...

lost.

holiday

3 and a half more sleeps. a short nap on the plane and I will again been centered with every step I take. Time to find out if last year's romance with the island was just first trip delusion. I'm thinking not but need to keep an open mind. 

holiday > holy day > wholly day or holey day > a day with lots of space in it

and there are 21 of them to enjoy to the fullest.

another friday nite

When you are alone and fighting the despondency that threatens and a couple of friends show up.  Count yourself lucky.

The darkness threatens. suffocating in intensity to be lightened by the driven but motivated visions of your friends. They could be anywhere else but they are here. They smell alive, they sound invested, and they do not release you to the voices. They engage, laugh, argue, and come to terms.

They keep me safe from myself. why? Shouldn't I just let go?

amalgamation

We define/analyze/interpret every experience through the amalgamation of knowledge & action applied to sensory input. Rarely can one separate out a single sense, thought, or movement and say "There, it was that.", because we are all like baked onions. Semi-transparent layers on layers soaked through with demerra sugar and real butter, all jumbled together and impossible to pick apart. The onions sugar and butter inter-are*.

Like a memory that surfaces "a la deja vu"  bringing the past into the present, enriching/polluting the now with the then. Sense memories creating the range of predilection you inherit through your experience. Nothing really ever stands alone.

My head and heart & soul have always been filled with the cacophony of aroma that is my primary memory sense.

The blog is an expression of how I inter-am.

* Thich Nat Han

Publish Post