SMELL IT

He’s upstairs with a plate and kombucha on my breath; it’s hot, a summer night surrounds this capped jar of living beings; jogged today, I don’t everyday; his father is hard to deal with, but windows are what they are and I didn’t build this house, only can do what I can do best, stress is always here how soil beneath us deals. Mystery, the weather strange, too much rain, and I shut off the water to the outside, too much money; but I’ll get in trouble if I don’t remember calling the audiologist, which I can do tomorrow morning; lost hearing aids cost a lot of hearing loss for the strong hearing who would like to protect their hearing, right? Right of course is not wrong like how the Arabs found zero staring up at them from an empty pond and they taught us counting stars of course helps us know what’s going on; and even when I make mistakes, love conquers, but you already know that, and it helps to email, and to call; the phone is off, annoying I know, but yes. Country minded, it appears outdated or always a traffic light perception exclaim earth celebrates zoo-bar logic, or just this sociopathic dinosaur we call united psychological states of our times; I could’ve taken the moon and shoved it down your throat but redundancy, also a living illness. Upstairs, he yawns, I hear it and the silent night grounds the dark we share, breeze through open window, to deal with as much as what will kills us, this pact with living; laughter in a memory reverberates, now.
But I’m not upset and I have little advice on how not to be; each finds their each in and out of existence, guess loss is a truth born of mundane-ancient stuff, ignorance a doorway walking passed emotion and that’s what can be seen; a pen use for check book to purchase what will be his; is he asleep in a drawer?—manipulating clouds into kidnapping me from his brainless problems charioting the body through corridors of tone pyramids building a trance out of this narrow funnel; there’s no escape from this wall-to-wall circle flying at speeds impossible to identify a creak in the ceiling, it stops. Here on the carpet
didn’t go anywhere; I couldn’t identify, or, two things occurred simultaneously: two wings of an orange butterfly, eyelids, blinking traffic light, a pen cap, the answer between non-gated fabrics of icon flash, pulse, if not, this wouldn’t appear and this a fact as a table, a chair. Perception mingles present unties and palms forward a treasure, a ward for the sane, as unlacing twine forest of unspeakable city, buildings in a car engine outside the ear hole in the distant dog howl asylum breathing normal, difference in seeing the bars built in a psyche, space allows vision to eat. Now that the non-jail is clear, humor retrievable, non-theoretical glass jar; he coughs, I can hear the airplane on the other side: hey I’m in here; no one will ever know what it is to be oneself.
With tomorrow knocking closer to skin levels of certainty, water pressure rises and I’m still waiting to hear your voice in my head break loose and free the animals locked in ribcage riots; alleviate an echo from its job and hinges can exhale, (not leave); moments pass cycles without clones river onward. Cell phone, internet guy will come and fix the problem and AC costs living in a tossed assumption clothes from this country sounds funny to mention but plates in glass cases made with perfection nothing is that real, industry out to prove us different; what if this was Spanish and the war was a mountain of coin-ghost-days? Would the half part of the museum dedicated to preserving whatever they preserve be similar to how it is now(silence)accompanies a need to urinate the kombucha finally settles in and dines beside the nachos; I ran today, but you already knew that; his questions have replaced mine. It is true, cooking food for the provisions I service requires hands belonging to the body donated as this offered cloud affords, entitled by job description for place to reside, where this house appears in the third of my life over from youth still needing to pee neighborhoods of dizzy car rides, the mountains call. There are times when I go crawl into them until blooming orchid, and okay Sunday, a text on the cell phone screen and at some point the sun will rise and the other side of the glass will be a mirror, smell it.
It was good, really good, yah, um, really nice, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and what’s really important in relationship and building relationship and how to build it in a way—and I feel like often there are things that can get in the way or cloud, and I can see more of what they’re really is and learning…How to be really simply present and open with myself and—in an open way and at the same time not turning parts of myself off, but really openness and not worried about perfection, in that way, yah—I don’t know if that made sense to you, but—yah I can feel it, it’s really learning how to be like selfless…In a way that’s also really fulfilling—what really matters—it’s not that important to talk about certain things but to connect naturally, really, yah—and selfless rises of light desired to raise and bring me to locations not known but grocery stores, not next week but the next after that…Standing especially—there is a voice, don’t want to be so quiet all the time, yah I’m looking forward; you’re going far away and I can’t hear you; make a power necklace for someone; yah, it’s amazing you’re there and working with them; yah, then she hangs up it’s now almost tomorrow, we’ll talk tomorrow, today near the end; I wonder what endings bring—energy release isn’t a question, the relief which follows, then rest for lifetimes until called forward again into form to learn, grow, discover, give, evolve, forget, continue.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s