My train of thought is relentless
A careless word
A hidden truth
A ring discarded
A lust forbidden
A master puppeteer to set the stage;
Lordly
Cowardly
Lost
Closeted
Lethal
All at odds with the world
And that year it snowed on my birthday, I discarded intelligence, loyalty, love.
Left it for a player.
Left that for a novice.
Left that for a wanderer.
Left that for a minstrel.
Left that for a philosopher.
The player, the master puppeteer taught me,
That I was ugly, untalented and undesirable
That if I used my body I would have friends, lovers, maybe even be loved
Even if it were a lie
That I would accept it and take what I could get.
The novice was a footnote.
Legitimizing that I was undesirable, untalented, ugly. As he never lifted his eyes to meet me.
- in learning this, I left my body to learn of sexuality,
the only device I knew could win me a companion that might heed me
The wanderer was the second to love me back, though I took it for the first.
And having left me on a temporary basis, left me with what I knew to be true.
And I made it truer than it had ever been. Seemingly alone, abandoned, I looked for sustenance.
The wanderer wandered back, and I was shamed. I was a long way from recovery from shame.
I gave into his lust so seldom I knew I was unworthy.
And the ring slipped off and I took it as a sign to slip away.
The minstrel knew how to woo,
I surrendered. But I was not recovered.
I did not apply my sexuality as I was told, and knew to be necessary.
In this case it truly was - you know how musicians are.
And all the love in the world could not have kept him to wait for my recovery.
The philosopher told me it would be okay, to take a chance.
I did and it was harrowing.
So much that at present I cannot fit it to prose.
.....
What the fuck am I doing, Journal.
This will never cover the breadth and depth of what I know and feel.
This is why I abandon you all the time.... there is no way I could ever get it all down, ever. I'll just drive myself mad in the process.
End note. Felt as though, I had to be able to have a stable hetero relationship before even attempting one with a woman. Hence impatience and polyamory. I still have no idea how the fuck to even speak with girls romantically, or make a relationship work. And I really, really did want these to work. The love I've felt has never been false or manufactured. Fuckin' a my brain...
A hidden truth
A ring discarded
A lust forbidden
A master puppeteer to set the stage;
Lordly
Cowardly
Lost
Closeted
Lethal
All at odds with the world
And that year it snowed on my birthday, I discarded intelligence, loyalty, love.
Left it for a player.
Left that for a novice.
Left that for a wanderer.
Left that for a minstrel.
Left that for a philosopher.
The player, the master puppeteer taught me,
That I was ugly, untalented and undesirable
That if I used my body I would have friends, lovers, maybe even be loved
Even if it were a lie
That I would accept it and take what I could get.
The novice was a footnote.
Legitimizing that I was undesirable, untalented, ugly. As he never lifted his eyes to meet me.
- in learning this, I left my body to learn of sexuality,
the only device I knew could win me a companion that might heed me
The wanderer was the second to love me back, though I took it for the first.
And having left me on a temporary basis, left me with what I knew to be true.
And I made it truer than it had ever been. Seemingly alone, abandoned, I looked for sustenance.
The wanderer wandered back, and I was shamed. I was a long way from recovery from shame.
I gave into his lust so seldom I knew I was unworthy.
And the ring slipped off and I took it as a sign to slip away.
The minstrel knew how to woo,
I surrendered. But I was not recovered.
I did not apply my sexuality as I was told, and knew to be necessary.
In this case it truly was - you know how musicians are.
And all the love in the world could not have kept him to wait for my recovery.
The philosopher told me it would be okay, to take a chance.
I did and it was harrowing.
So much that at present I cannot fit it to prose.
.....
What the fuck am I doing, Journal.
This will never cover the breadth and depth of what I know and feel.
This is why I abandon you all the time.... there is no way I could ever get it all down, ever. I'll just drive myself mad in the process.
End note. Felt as though, I had to be able to have a stable hetero relationship before even attempting one with a woman. Hence impatience and polyamory. I still have no idea how the fuck to even speak with girls romantically, or make a relationship work. And I really, really did want these to work. The love I've felt has never been false or manufactured. Fuckin' a my brain...