Loneliness
desire
and want

my feeling of loneliness comes only from the idea that something is missing.
I await your arrival, I cook your food. I daydream of our conversation as I set the table
as I plan the night.

You call me on the phone, twenty minutes. How much less time that is than I need to prepare my house for you.

You come, you eat my food. The words we speak, what meaning do they have?
They’re symbols from a deeper place. You talk about your work
I speak of my being, of my pride.

We share our frustrations and our accomplishments
We puff up our chests.

We kiss. We kiss in a way of wanting. A way that lacks. That no amount of kissing, or touching, or love making could ever fill. We could lay together naked for months and never touch near the object of our loneliness. Years.

You look to me as someone who inspires a great thing in you. That is a great honor, that I would love to accept humbly. I feel pride, I must admit.

You love who you would be with me.

I know that it is not the case. I would not be me with you. We would meet in the middle, and that’s no place for people like us to meet.

No, I could never meet you in the middle. It makes me wonder how I got this far. How many of my teachers must have bent down to lend me a hand. I am overwhelmed by their generosity and hope this compassion enters my own soul.

You do not want a teacher for a lover. You do not want a student.

I do not. Let’s start on even ground, is that too much to ask?

No, there is a deeper seed burried, a deeper meaning contained.

Loneliness, desire - comes from the feeling of lacking.

It is only when complete will I truly be able to be in Your presense.

That is what truly I desire. It lays burried beneath the myriad of small hopes and dreams
They are only a smokescrean, parlor tricks. Slight of hand.

Magic is my desire. Flames my inspiration.


Any loneliness must be interpreted as a lack of a relationship with You.

Can I be lonely for You?  What does it bring. The passion that it creates, perhaps is a strong enough pull to keep me revolving around You like the moon and the globe. But is that good enough? Can I truly be content a mere satelite?

These questions are too heady, too much flash and show. What is my deep desire?

Freedom from all desire. We’re now getting closer.

Every time I try to describe my needs, two things happen.

One I get frustrated with the words and realize that I can never touch that.
The second is that I feel an increased satisfaction.

So now what.

Day in and out the same struggle persists. The drama of it all is enough
to know that separately a calm exists

but let’s leave behind the comfort of rhyme
now.
Now what
what is held in store for one who ate, in his indulgent estimations, much too much chocolate
who is constantly redefining his identity
what he stands for

what is left for the wide eyed dreamer
what is the purpose on this hazy lazy day

I know it’s all the same,
another day
more of it. More money problems, more need for regimenting
more search for the perfect diet, and how to make it work . . .  Fill in the blanks,
their tricks are becoming more transparant. Yeah, so what i say.

what is next . I feel like today is yesterday

why again?

Another sports team, another distraction. I have seen this one before.
Why not fool myself again, though?
And is it really foolish? Or is it only experience? Is that just living life fully
Am i in denial, am I depriving myself of the bounty of experience?

Duel truths. My ego wants to tell you that many times I write naively
prompting you to react strongly - to oppose my ideas and hone your own blade

But at the same time, I write not for just you, I write for me. I write to react strongly against my own words. Put it in black and white and find myself repelled
into a place of neutrality.

Questions whose answers are silence. What?
Or is that laughter I hear? Or sorrow. A million dreams from the countless multitudes. All walking through experience with a new desire on their tongue, burning for acceptance and realization, to be found. All wanting to be held, both physically, mentally, emotionally.

Held in a bond of respect.

How do you look at every man like you love them? Strike that, how do you look at every man with love?

I start in the mirror with myself. Sometimes I make funny faces.

When will this cycle end?

My desire for the end brings me farther from it.

What is the meaning of the untruth.

Why do I make vows and why do I run things through in my mind? Why are they not left alone? I create concepts and selves only to shatter them.

I am getting used to the shattering. Perhaps material success is necessary to show that still, one is unsatisfied. Perhaps it is the true realization of ones dissatisfaction that leaves him smiling, sated.

I once wrote of the glass that I am constantly surrounded by. My small tank, my oxygen stone, my rocks on the floor, my scenery. This is my safety net, this tank is my home.

More than anything else, I want to break the glass.

I am afraid, however, that if I do so, I will be at a loss for water. That I will die.

I set my life up in such a way that I am able to get peeks outside. Or at least attempt to peak. Or at least hint at peaking. My energy is flowing towards breaking. Or at least it is occupied in the thought. Perhaps it is just more deception.

I'm afraid of drying up.

I convince myself that a safe place must be picked, that I may find myself immersed in a cool brook, or perhaps the ocean when my walls collapse.

I surround myself with my idea of what these places are so that the moment may come at anytime.

All the while, knowing that those who claim to know have said that the whole world is the ocean. That there is no thing but safety. That it is all home. I guess there is only one way to find out.

You tell me- Why, again?