Dannywritespoetry

I’ve never felt so strong being vulnerable before… and the most that either of us can do is ask “why now?” and wonder the what-ifs. Fuck this is difficult.

Clark Richard - I Wanna Be (Remix)

Journal Entry

i haven’t made it yet, and i don’t believe i will.

and what happens next is this mourning… this grieving for a loss that hasn’t even happened.

i don’t know why i’m so full of fear and anxiety about an irrationally-placed deadline. i give it to myself, it isn’t forced on me.

it feels like the only thing i “might be” good at or “want to be” good at is the one department of my ambition in which i feel the most fucked up.

what the hell is wrong with me? why is this so goddamn hard? why do i snap the brakes at the first sight of trying again, or making a stronger go of it this time around?

 

sometimes dying honestly does seem a lot easier than living with this imagined failure.



something about trying, getting frustrated, stressing, trying more, practicing… all of that just reminds me of her. all of the waiting and trying and practicing and stressing is a mirror of what i did to try and make her mine. which all resolved into a giant mess yet again. a mess that proved to make me tolerant of worn knees and soggy cheeks.

love has transformed me in many ways. …it’s just that this last time fucking ruined it for me. i don’t like love. i don’t want to be in love with anyone anymore. probably ever again. i can’t do it. not when i’m the only one giving. i can’t let someone steal away with my insides while i’m not looking. because now i just don’t feel normal.

damn her. damn her for abusing my emotions the way she so callously does, the way she so guiltlessly does.

never again is a girl going to talk to me the way she did; i won’t let it happen. because i know me. i know how much it gets to me to think it isn’t just talk. to think SHE isn’t just talk. which she fucking was. my god was she just all talk.
 
 NEVER. AGAIN.



my poor heart, my poor heart, why have i not been better to you?

…i’m not a whole man. i am a man in pieces. and i don’t expect anyone to have known.

{1.20.12}

——

obviously, journal entries are intensely personal. it’s the safe place you create for your emotions to carry no guilt or shame for what they need to say. and yes, there is indeed a context here that won’t translate unless you’re in my head… so i would only expect that people could relate in the very least of ways to what i write. but i also have this crazy idea for the future and it requires me getting used to airing things out in public like this. so, here’s to the first of many more peeks through my windows!

suffice it to say that time is a great healer, and i am neither on her hook nor bitter about having been there for 5 years. was it ridiculous, sure. is it going to continue, definitely not. thank god. and that is worth celebrating!

(ps. this entry was about art/anxiety first, then the girl. just sayin.)

Warming

If I were so entitled
So blessed a gift, the thing I so desire
Selfless, given only for I’d thought and felt it
I’d be so careful as a flit of oxygen to fire
To not engorge by means to rush and melt it
But rather, lay, sustain as your supplier

To pass between us, love given and received
A distant spark to float between and breathe
And breathe, increase, grown only bigger slowly
Its swell will start a raging next we meet
And all we’ll know of pain is our enjoying
The burning, oh the burning nights of heat

[7.20.11]

——-
…this is - without a doubt - one of the best pieces i’ve ever written. and it bothered me that it’s not on the front page, sooo…*BUMP* 

mating

we are as the orcas and the whales

contorting words the same as bellied groans

groaning love in syllables spoken or no

traversing lengths and depths until the vale

to find her {is a joyous pain}

I want to love a woman and love her well.

And then to die before her as an honor.

But not before I, show the world, do tell,

I’ll all the ways in afterlife grow fonder.

freer

people want the lie

they say they don’t

but that’s a lie too



people want the lie

they don’t want to stand

cause standing changes you



people want the lie

they want the lie so bad

cause in it they feel good



people want the lie

they want it more than life

or they’d be living like they could

 

i refused to fight and lie

i so chose to stand and die

and now i’m free

i’m freer than she’ll ever be

oil and water

oh how i wanted to paint you, to fill to the edges

to cover your canvas with the love of an age

so timeless you’d have been, my masterpiece

but won’t you know you’ve flown away


oh how i wanted to frame you in elegance

to cover your corners, safeguard your colors

no one would break you, if i was your painter

but no, i had tried, and in time you’d grown duller

 

oh how i wanted to maintain you and praise you

to cover your plaque with my intimate dripping

woe, i have rested my easel and brushes

but show in this gallery, splitting and ripping

 

oh how i wanted to claim you, acclaim you, affix

but how spoiled and pauper, oil and water don’t mix

———

i feel like i could fix this one up more… but hell if i let that stop me from actually shipping my product. ;0

Going Back Home

i can’t believe i couldn’t cut this near the start
just a string in the breeze you’d never tear apart
so caught by the wires near the hole in the fence
disfiguring me from the freedom i’d have had since we met


so cruel you are, my dear, so stalwart
holding onto me with a pattern i couldn’t admit
i couldn’t own up to my childish dreams
until i saw it in your eyes it wasn’t me


it’s ok to keep it down
there’s no need to fight
it’s ok to leave it now
there’s no need to cry


i promise now, my sweet, i’ve done it well
i promise now, my cheeks won’t flush and tell
onward now, i’m cut from here, i’m slipping through
i’d rather be in halves than waiting here for you


shhh, don’t make a sound
don’t breathe a sigh
goodbye for good, i know it hurts
i’ll be around
just close your eyes
pretend we didn’t work
don’t make a sound
just blame it all on me and mine
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye my love
my love that didn’t work

Hey Unloving… I will love you.

—Underoath - Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape