"Self..."

Not the usual send people to find another real Artist's work.

This isn't a usual "send people to visit an artist's work" sort of entry.  This is a piece of "self" pondering and about taking a pause in the middle of a writing stream and letting your mind go with what you find.  I did find a REAL and held-me-fully-paused piece that I in turn point to in mine.

"Self..."

 

Sometimes I feel so foolish, 

I KNOW no one hears ...me... 

no one wants to listen, 

no one has reason to.  

 

Damn, the night is sooo dark,

the clock ticks incessantly -

everything is fading and fading

going... going...

and I await

await

...ending... just sitting - staring

waiting       for       nothing - really.

What AM I waiting for -

who? - someone?  anyone?

anyoneatall...

 

It hurts... why? WHY DOES IT HURT!

WHAT hurts?  It's dark is all...

I want to cry - need to     cry,

it hurts to breathe... do I want to?

What DO I want?  Do I want?

Do I ...want?  Hurt?   Cry?   Breathe?

Am I         awake?

 

Is it all a dream?

Am I?  Who's the dreamer?

I wish...

but that would be "telling" wouldn't it?

But if no one IS listening

even though it's "telling" - 

I still care.

Can YOU see me?

- at all?

 

Sometimes when you find …you’ve paused and been held by… a reality stronger than your NOW - your own thoughts just …play.  Kelly Scheppers " “Far More Beautiful Than I” " did this for me.

 

Two doors down... I used to dream -

of what I could have said

of what you could have said back...

of what little things meant

of a sprinkle of freckles

of how your head turned just    sooo,

...of eyes    glistening -

that just held me in place

and of hair made for tasting, touching.

 

At night, my mind remembered

...the scent of purple,

violet and lavendar as I dreamt.

...what lips did when the smile rose in the morning.

...the echoes of auburn...

highlights and shadows     playing

flowing with every turn and step.

And how your hands -  your    hands

fingers   tips    moved and touched

...everything...

 

I caught you daydreaming

but didn't speak...

I knew you were watching his door

and all the people

always going in - always pausing

DOING   something

= for Sunday's noise.

He was good -

Adonis of the ways...

He was so much more

than I would ever be

- but I dreamed,

I really did     dream...

 

Kelly’s words brought out echoes  and tastes, and swirls of memories and purpose.  A haunting thought-flow that just …continued.  Beauty is in our eyes and beautiful is our perception and sometimes ...well, sometimes the eyes that glisten so softly in the dark see THEIR dreams where others see their sighs.

 

Chris

Author's Note

pause at Kelly Scheppers work... I did.

Reviews

[J. J. Nightingale]

We lay side by side
one thousand nights
You had eyes for only me
Inside
that dream..

A tear .. shared....

me.

[Wraith.]

'Hurts to breath' was affective. Good write. Was similar to a voice in my own head.

[Chris]

I appreciate your pause and understanding... take care.

[TheKratiMittal]

This is so beautiful.
Made me pause,really.

[Chris]

Well, hello. Nice of you to pause with me.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

when we pause at others' writes...often that creates a stream of our own writing...sometimes we aren't even sure we are the ones writing it...it sort of works that way.

[Emily B]

You are such a special soul, glad i didn't miss your musing

[Rene Salinas]

What a journey Chris not only imaginative but very thoughtfull. I related to yours more than I could to the recommendation to Kelly's I am afraid. I found the moment of questioning invaluable and very well expressed. As it is beyond rationality and logic I will not even try as there is no need either to fragment and comment. In that context all that there is left is gratitude from me.

Thankyou

[emmajoy]

' .. await ~ ...ending... just sitting - staring ~ waiting for nothing - really. ~ What AM I waiting for
who? - someone? anyone? ~ anyoneatall... '

'What an extraordinarily emotional and beautiful piece of writing! For sure Kelly's work inevitably touches places same and different in her readers' hearts and minds.

For you to be nudged then flown into such a twisted hug of feelings and thoughts shows her power with words. YET, in pained, lost-in-the-shadows but lucid way, you display a man who though bewildered, understands and cherishes what and how is a heart-felt relationship

I've always admired your word wanderings, they're the truths and tales told by an open fire, when being at one with someone else has more meaning than might be dreamed of.

'At night, my mind remembered ~ ...the scent of purple, ~ violet and lavendar as I dreamt. ~
...what lips did when the smile rose in the morning.'