chronically claustrophobic

i am, apparently, one of those people who sabotage potentially good things before they even happen.

if you are psychologically setting yourself up to think the things you are thinking then you obviously want to be thinking them. right. maybe the need to experience consistency is so short lived because you are really happy with the constant spontaneity/free will you live by. as soon as you are cornered into potentially consist ant situations we realized, in a claustrophobic state, that at least self sabotage is a form of (personal) control.

or maybe i search for challenges, challenges just happen to come with risk, and if risk is the only thing that keeps you alert enough to be challenged then well . . you've entered a vicious circle and it proves increasingly harder to get out.

so what if i fear that being unchallenged does not equate with stability and comfort but with settling . . i'm to afraid of missing something that could be good for me so i avoid things that could be good for me because i always think there will be something better.

really i am looking for feeling i already have encountered in another face.
and it's pointless and i know this, and yet it does not stop highly caffeinated ramblings before friday night departures into that same spontaneity i have renewed comfort in - at least for now.

really this is just a phase every human being goes through . . i am just over analyzing things.
are we surprised?
no.
god help the over analytical psych. major.


o and,
happy new year.

- - -

turns out maybe my instincts were right on this one.
funny how sometimes we know ourselves more than we are willing to admit.
maybe because we want ourselves to be wrong?

need, anger, despiration

What is flirtation? One might say that it is behavior leading another to believe that sexual intamacy is possible, while preventing that possibility from becoming a certainty.
In other words, flirting is a promise of sexual intercourse without a garuntee.

- -the unbearable lightness of being
Milan Kundra

Frankenstein

is it wrong to want human closeness - body heat in a matter of speaking?
not heat because you are shivering, just heat because you are numb.
some kind of warped sort of emotional booty call . . .

so what happends if, say, you stock pile it. . . cram as much in a night as you can so that when you look back on it you sort of hate yourself and rebell against wanting to be rid of such numbness.

but in this process arn't you just intiving another sort of novicane into your circulation.
you crave a sense of urgency, risk, sponetineity . . . power. but in that reconstruction of lost feelings, you really assemble some sort of stranger inside yourself to take over when you want to be loved.

and love, we all know is a relative term.

it's craving so much heat that you would die to be cold.

if you reject what you want because you've got to much of it then arn't you back to where you started? and in fulfilling such wants, what if you got more than you bargined for? how do you compinsate for the surplus, that emotional after taste that no matter how you try you can't spit out.

theres you're new numbness.
and that is something you didn't need.

it's those grey areas, and the breaking out from under them thats a bitch.

playing with matches

can you miss someone you (want to)hate? yes, you can. i don't know why your asking when this is obviously how you feel. if you feel it it must be true. right? maybe.


all the things "they say" about pinning and missing are cliche and depressing
and i don't pretened to know what the emotional contract is for the grey area between missing and hating.
(beacause missing isn't loving, and therefore the parallel is squewed, right?)

well what ever it is, it's giving me awful writers block, and a worse headache.

but i decided that i am happier with this piece than i thought i would be when i started it :



hands that sprint
down my spine
like fire
burnt by a flame
i did not light
raw and blisterd
dry regrets
in greasy alabies
your forked tounge
engulfs my ear
(our)battle of sins
circe's game
at which you win
dangerous consistency
i let my hair down for you
behind the walls
i'm the moth
drawn to a candle
that's not hers.