And Again In the Anti Meridian

I think...

Find me here, stripped bare.
Of irrational thought begat by irrational dreams, seeking to accomplish all by irrational means.
Gone is the mask and revealed is the woman/child.
Borne of heartache and pain.
Raised by the wayside, climbing from gutters to walk the middle road picking neither one side.
Or the other.

I am.
A brash, abrasive human. Often prone to do things in a way so as to incite.
Most likely caused by fear bred from the need to control the uncontrollable with a Napoleon Complex bigger than the great divide to hide the trembling minor forged by insecurity and need to...
To be protected from self because what I may do may harm you but will assuredly
destroy
me
who does not know fully who I am besides me.

The me that rages like a summer storm, warm, wet and destructive.
Constructing my reality as I move and reveling in what lies in the wake
of a path walked once too often, too well...
In the blood swells of broken hearts and latent dreams struggling to be realized yet bursting at the seams.
With a swaying of hips and a licking of lips that would be considered...
well...
gay. In that happy way.
Were I not blessed with a slice of heaven buried firmly betwixt thighs that have a grip on
the future and no hold on the past
except for
the ghosts that haunt streets that I claim to never revisit, yet still, again firmly walk through or upon.
That well trodden ground with a mind firmly unsound.

Ok then.
you ask what now?

I can do nothing but give thanks to you...

Who will not let me wallow in my transgressions.
Will not allow inanity to rule my day to day.
You who has the arms to uplift but will not, for each must carry their own weight...
and mine is too heavy for most to bear,
slight, though I am.
For in teaching that love is self, you give the wealth of kings, so I will not buckle beneath my girth and instead stand firm.
Perfect in my imperfection.
And the way to love you is through the winding trail of my crooked smile
and my
gossamer thoughts, so easily blown asunder.
And each wave of me that I fall under will strengthen my stroke.
I will break the surface and become.
I will find that treasure and be one.
And in doing so, your gift will be returned.

This is what I think.
The thought of one must become reality.
So the universe was made and so it must be.

J'ai fini

- n I'm out, just thinkin'