The following 3 "writings" (not quite poems, not quite essays) were written in sequence in a journal. Please feel free to comment on all four or any of the four.
"To: Anonymous #1 (the beginning) - Written 9-16-09 @ 9:09pm
I wish you would demand for me.
And yet, I covet thee.
I'm starting to forget the features on your face
and the gestures that it made.
The impressions on my hands
from your touch are starting to convex.
The tone of your wit and the volume of your laughter
are strange to my ears now.
Reminiscing is not so frequent,
and its not as sad as I had feared.
I'm at peace with the joy we gave birth to,
though I'll be nostalgic for the future we can't make.
In a little corner of my heart a muscle lurks
at the thought of a possibility that we will once again
inhabit the same universe.
For you are light years away,
and I yearn for the smiles you drew on my face.
The reason people cannot describe "bittersweeness"
is because it is a contradiction.
It is the space between today and tomorrow,
today and yesterday;
It is the space between milliseconds;
It is the space between now and the moment I just lost.
How do you define the undefinable,
when all I can compare it to, is you:
The ultimate non-definition? (undefinition, undefinable).
"To: Anonymous #2 (Sick)" - Written 9-28-09 @ 9:47pm
Farewell old friend.
I bid you this farewell like a great story that was just told.
Thinking about you now,
is like having dry hands in winter.
And it gets to the point where the thought of you
makes my stomach churn.
I think its safe to say
that the memory of you repulses me;
You repulse me,
and I have no problem with that.
"To: Anonymous #3 (Amongst hope)" - Written 1/10/10 @ 4:40pm
I never knew how it felt
to wish never to see someone again.
I run the risk of someone prying into my life
by immortalizing these words on paper.
Immortal to all but fire and hands.
Today I don't want to keep making 360 degree turns.
I will, day by day, make a turn by degree.
And I will obtain freedom at 180.
I've developed the fear of everything.
After losing myself in so many people
I've forgotten who I am.
I need to break away and remember my own name:
Who was I once, or who I thought I was,
who I am now, and who I had become.
I'll wait on the shores of California
for the sun to come up.
Hopefully, the Earth decides to rotate the opposite way
just for me.
I need it.
Because otherwise, I'll sit and wait
until my feet fuse into the sand and I dissolve into glass.
Meanwhile, my heart which once beat for distant loves,
was jerked around by news of a ghost
which lurks closer and closer.
So now I live fearful of surprise every time
I walk around a corner.
The element of surprise.
So now I walk with a deflated heart,
slumped over and sunk in from all the jerking.
Jerks have a tendency to jerk you around, jerk off,
and jerk you out of your mind, as well as
jerk your mind out of your body.
I write inspired by sorrow and hatred;
The seeds of most poetry.
However, I'm encouraged by a distant fellow,
and a traveler of sorts that with a phrase or two,
flicked on the switch to illuminate a part of my mind
which has been dormant for over 20 years.
(slipping into a discussion on inner peace)
A part of the mind which scientists still don't know why
it takes so long for a human
to realize it exists in them.
Its called "rationality," which causes inner peace.
Peace within ones self.
Not peace dependent on objects, people, or dreams.
Peace of being alive.
A peace where you're glad you're you.
A peace where if you lose all possessions
and everyone around you dies,
you'll still have it amongst the sorrow.
It's hard to obtain personal peace,
as most people mistake themselves in having it.
They are happy, but not solely for themselves,
but rather they're happy because
they have great families, a nice job,
perfect spouses, great friends, etc.
But if all of that were gone...
would they maintain that happiness and peace of mind?
Probably not.
They would let fear and sorrow overwhelm and consume them.
So believe me when I say that in my opinion,
that not even monks have achieved that status.
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