The Writer's Pocket

I'm in a lot of pain. Constantly. Every moment of the day,  there's this grip around my insides that refuses to relent. I can't sit still anymore. I find myself, for the first time in my life,  needing to do something,  anything, to distract from it. It used to be that I would rest in order to recover, but I feel like, if I rest, I'll lose what little control I have left. When I'm at work,  I sit and mindlessly repeat conversation after conversation for hours. That's fine, at first. I do some flashcards between calls, or perhaps workout a little. I'm busy, I'm fine. By the middle of my shifts, I feel myself slipping. Suddenly, I can't avoid the thoughts anymore. I think about him or the future... It's just a thought or two. But by the third quarter, a quiet panic starts. At the end of the day, it's all I can do just to get out of the building as fast as possible and rush home to cook and dance around the house and clean everything, until I...

How? I feel such conflict in heart, I think. Not unlike slicing open my thin skin, And being mesmerized by flow of ink, From the sacred place where it once had been. Then, realizing strength draining away, Feeling the great clunks of my heart trying, I attempt to sew myself whole and say, Next time, I mustn't let myself start bleeding. I sit and catch my breath, my eyes find you. A knife in hand, it drips with hot mixed blood Of desperate self-hate and unplanned jab through My heart, as is our seeming ritual flash flood.      Yet, sight of you washes 'way my fury.      I'd take any wound if 'twould end your mis'ry.

"See?" The young, lanky teen pointed out towards the open sea.   The other boy stared at the distant spot. He looked b ehind him . Then, b ack again , to the sea. "Literally, what?"   "Charlie. Look . Really fucking look!"   "There isn't--"   "It's right fucking there!" He gestured more violently at the point and his long hair whipped across his face.    Charlie grunted in exasperation. He stomped forward, shoved his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and got as close to the edge as he could without pitching off the cliff into the waves below. He squinted and scanned the horizon, determined to find it. "I still don't see i — Ahhh!" He suddenly found himself falling towards the sea and then launching backwards towards land and his legs gave way from underneath him. He melted to the ground. His body shook and his breath came quickly.    Roger was laughing, b ent over, arms wrapped ...

A castle, tall and full of life. To guard, a few with hand on knife. But here he came, though they looked tough, That thief who stole the diamond rough. He swung 'cross moat, into a room. All were blind to impending doom. Down the stairs and hall, in a huff, That thief who stole the diamond rough. He headed towards the great moonstone. Lost, to nearby room he was drawn. He saw an odd stone in pile of stuff, That thief who stole the diamond rough. Carelessly, he shrugged and took it, Stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "This isn't that special," he did gruff, That thief who stole the diamond rough. Then the castle, full of sadness, Mourned the loss despite gem's drabness. He returned to moonstone search. Enough! That thief who stole the diamond rough. And so he left, two gems richer. Castle moved on, feeling poorer. Now there's more tough guards cause of That thief who stole the diamond rough.

These waves' sweet, rough love Pulling me deeper in dark. What distressing bliss.

The world is so dark. It would shine if but you loved. My heart waits for then.

Oh, thought of you, a hook to trap my mind, In these, the times you deign to go fishing. Habit erratic is habit unkind. And yet, reel released still leaves me reeling. If you would sail to oceans far away, My body knows, the sight, the sound, the smell, The essence of you would ring cross the way, And launch me towards the love I try to quell. Is this the love of which the poet speaks? It seems to me too cruel to be as such. I hear that love can make a strong man weak. I, not strong, would strengthen by your touch.           So, I sit and dream about the moment,           When I, saved fish, am the one you've chosen.

Irked in the picturesque moonlight. Not in the mood for starry-eyed stargazing. Even as cars parked, with fogged windows, wobble. Even as young'uns sneak from home to dawdle, Down dimly lit pathways in pleasant parks, handholding and eyegazing. Yes, tonight, a "kingdom far far away," and "Once upon a time," but Unfortunately,  the scene lasts only as long as the night and reality returns with day.

Rose lifted her chin to face the clear, open sky and the corners of her mouth crept upwards slightly. She felt the loving heat from the sun blanket her and the pleasant breeze caress her skin under the covers. Then, her heart whispered a cool secret and the strength flushed from her body. Her eyelids drooped and the corners of her mouth sagged and her shoulders felt heavy, an invisible weight placed upon them. So, she let the breeze put his hands on her chest and he nudged her backwards. She fell. The warm water reached out and caught her by the small of her back. He walked his hands upwards to gently lay her across his surface. Suddenly, she was weightless.  Her legs drifted to the surface and her arms floated out and away from her body. Her attempted braid loosened and released, the strands of her hair spreading wide around her head like a flower in bloom. Her lips parted gently in comfort and she remained this way, drifting, gently cradled by the water's embrace. As she lay, sh...

Has anyone seen 13 Reasons Why on Netflix? I haven't yet, but I know what it's about. I read the book ages ago, but may or may not have finished it.  Doesn't matter anyway. I know so many who love the book. A few friends have seen the show and they say it's really well done, but it's so well done that it is causing problems amongst those who have dealt with suicide or rape in the past.  It's traumatizing for them. Reopening old wounds with its vivid scenes. I was discussing this with a friend and she told me she had to stop watching when she came to the last episodes for that very reason. The following day, I sat down with two female friends of mine and brought up the subject once more. I started talking about the friend who was bothered by the show because she had a near-rape scenario happen to her. What they said in response shocked me. "Who hasn't?" In that moment, my whole perspective changed. This was something that I knew happened, bu...

You are the Daphne to my Niles, But I am the Niles to your Daphne. You are the Aphrodite to my Hephaestus, But I am the Hephaestus to your Aphrodite. Your gravity is mighty. We met and I fell. I shook and I stuttered, My heartbeat spurred and fluttered. I'll never give up, Because you pull me in, No matter how long it's been. And so I live and love, With hope.

I hate to sound dramatic. I try to convince myself I'm fine. But it's getting harder every time I try to wake myself in the morning. Some days I just don't. I skip the classes I should go to. Which does nothing for me Because I feel guilty about skipping. But hey, I got more sleep, right? Yes, and still tired. I feel like I could sleep for a week, Or better yet, Forever. I know what it takes to get better. Just gotta start. It's so hard to start. But I got to. No one can do it for me. The only way to feel better is to get to the top. Do I want to? Falling is so much easier than climbing. Though it hurts just the same. I hate hurting. But I do. And I will. Unless.

Why, hello! Welcome to the Writer's Pocket, which is a mash of everything that I want to write about and more. Some of these will be my Lesson posts, like this one here! Others... Well, we'll find out, won't we? Here we go... Reflection can be helpful. Regret isn't. Ever look back on the memories and just fill up with remorse? Pray you could go back and change everything? Push the thoughts back to the deep dark pits of your brain, never to be heard from again, until, one day, you run into the person who was there for it and you are so horrified because they heard you say something extremely dumb about the weather that one time, that one year? Done and done. So, my solution is, learn the lesson. Each and every memory that I hate to recall is filled with a lesson, no matter how small. I think it's a good idea for me to start jotting these lessons down! Lesson #1 - February 11, 2017: S leep is Important ! I know, I know. Duh, right? Well, it seem...