On The Eve of Something New

I probably spend far too much time alone, which is one of the reasons I have no New Year's Eve plans tonight. No parties. No invitations. Only the ghosts I've chosen to acknowledge... I will spend the evening by myself. Staring into the void, out the window, across the web until my eyes give up and I allow the ghosts of this and every year tuck me in again.

I've given up on therapy. (Like everything else.) I know what I need to do. I just don't know how I'm going to do it. Experience seems to chip away at enthusiasm as if they were natural enemies. I do think that it would be nice to feel loved again. To be in love. To have someone to talk to. To cook for. To snuggle with. To have and to hold... All that. Maybe this year.

Phoenix From The Flame

Somehow I had forgotten the simplest of rules. I would breathe it all in and absorb all I could until I finally collapsed like an ancient empire, unable to sustain my majesty. Yes, it's true, we are all born to die. But the waiting is truly the hardest part. I've had my share of meantime. I could write a book.

Let's try an experiment. Who here can say beyond doubtful shadows that they love themselves just as they are without conditions? Without exceptions? Fuck me, I'm failing; we all seem to say. Desperately seeking... And still the beast goes on. Always hungry and haunting. Crying into the night as the siren on the rocks. Bring me a sense of humor and a water back, goddammit! I ate the seventh seal and clubbed it's baby.

We are taught, early on, what to think but not how to think. I think it's a shame there is so much shame. Pepper spray is the accessory of the season. It's quite striking next to the indifference and self-indulgence that seem to have taken the world by storm. Is it better to stay true to oneself or go with the latest trends? I can't decide really, since the latest fashion seems to have originated in the deepest corners of my soul. Mint in spring? I will keep my eyes and closet open to it.

I promise you this, cowboy: To cherish your sweet memory even as I devour your archetype. And if on these coldest of nights you hear me howling, know that it is for you that I croon.

I will rise.
And I will return.

SO