day 4 | fidget, cut, revisit writings -- the twits and twitches read uncannily accurate in the foretelling

i fidget, worry, fret, wonder of dream, revisit ideations of risk, tentatively scratch and stroke the keys. in silence i unpack two years of untruths that i've allowed to be strapped to my back. around an agressor, i recess, withdraw, go silent. my bad. three scissors my ass. but that was the norm, the beer and karaoke party parrot ear chewings, the unavoidable not me mania mantra. i allowed it to shut me down, curl me up, stifle important parts of me that were quietly emerging. i am responsible for my own recess, no matter the cause. yet, no matter the fault, aggressor, recessor, both, to pretend i wasn't damaged by it, is ... well, it is pretend. but now, here in this space, i begin the exercise of following the tether to that internal place just a little ways back and pick it up again, open it, uncurl it, provide breath again so i may drift forward into a space where i will belong, severed from the not me mania. still though i am trying to shake off the curl ups and shut downs of recessing. i will. i will soon. soon i will run not away but toward.

April 2013

i walk when i should run
i dread when i should dream
i hold back the scratch of pen
the keys silenced from their clickedy click
visceral visual gesture dissipates in this silence

smallness pinpointed from bulgaria with love
yes i knew
the walk in, round, through
things that make small
they wrestle from within and without
private made public in a frightening unpack of postings
so as life drifts forward into more grounded presence
the risk of making visible
its realities make unsafe
the pen now sits still, the keys silent,
not for fear of smallness
but for the reveal results
hunger and desheltering
unfriending history erasures reached
making the twits and twitches read
uncannily accurate in the foretelling

i need to scratch
the rhythm of the stroked key
i am drowning in the silent stillness of unwritten posts
but i don't want to be afraid, hungry, desheltered or memory reedited
so i will scratch and stroke my way out of silences
i will post under an assumed
i think it will assist me to get back to my making
to dream off the back of dread
to open my gait to test run it for a bit

of course
i drink too much diet coke.