A Bleeding Heart

Today's story is from the pages of a book, covered in dust, hidden away in the archives of Stephen's library. Hidden amongst other books covered in cobwebs, it is a book not often shared or even read by its author. It doesn't make for a good bedtime story nor would it ever make the Bestsellers list, but if your interest has been peaked, sit back, get comfortable, while I rummage through the pages. Ages ago, way, way back almost to the beginning of time when man first began to walk upright is where the story begins. Well, OK, maybe not that far back, but some days my old bones feel as if they were around when the dinosaurs roamed the land, when creatures other than man ruled the world but for the sake of time let's fast forward a few years. The once crisp white pages have now aged, yellowed, the ink faded with the passing of time, some passages barely illegible, somewhat like a memory, bits remembered, bits forgotten. Thumbing through the pages, eyes briefly, quickly reading a few of the faded words as page after page falls upon one another, one passage catches my eye. I stop, I read the words, so long ago written. How could it be? I had forgotten all about this, somehow, somewhere, all that was, was lost in the blackness of forgetfulness. A chill runs down the spine and I shutter to think, wonder, is this what happens? Is it this easy to forget, to put aside hopes and dreams, to allow them to wither away, to die with the passing of time..............

Someday, I will listen to my heart, I will hear more than its beating, I will follow where it leads me. I promise, someday, I will live for me. What has happened, has happened, I can't change it, this I must realize, accept. I did what was expected, I did the right thing, but now I know they were your expectations, what was right for you. I do not place blame, no fault do I lay at your feet. You did, we did this together, certain things were not discussed, certain things were just not accepted. The footsteps in the sand were yours and I walked in them as a young boy, but now this man must make his own and I must remember as this man, I must allow the next young boy to make his own footprints in the sand. I will take his hand, he will walk beside me, this I promise. I pray, his footsteps will be led by his heart, not by his mind. I promise, the same mistakes will not be made. But for now, I will walk in your footsteps, I will do the right thing, I will listen only to the beats of a bleeding heart, but one day...........I promise, I will live for Stephen.

Book in hand, I pause, I sit there..................

The silence is interrupted only by the beating sound of a bleeding heart............

Sleepless In Georgia

As most of the world sleeps, I stand here peering out into the night. My body is tired from the day's grind, my mind barely functional, but sleep eludes me once again. Exhausted, I would welcome sleep, as much as the arms of a lover, but I find that neither is within my grasp. Unable to shut down, unable to escape, I stand here. Another sleepless night.............

Eye Opener

I could hear the chants of the demons. Into the bowels of Hell, I was almost dragged, so close I came, the flesh searing heat I felt, but I survived. After the legal advise I received the other day, I'm not ashamed to admit for a few days there I was circling the drain. This meeting was an eye-opener! After everything was laid out, after the last card was dealt, after all the options was tossed around, I knew. After I heard the bottom line figure of a sixty to forty split, I knew. Being my own worst enemy, I had done most of the damaged to myself and I knew the moment I walked out of that office, my demons were preparing for battle. But, this time I was ready, I immediately circled the wagons and waited for the attack. With a vengeance they came, gnashing of teeth, flesh ripping claws they came, some dreams and hopes got lost in the battle, but most importantly, I survived, survived to fight another day...........

A Dream's Death

Passing of time not only can wither away stone, but dreams, as well. Take it from someone who knows, nothing last forever, not even dreams......... (Stephen)

Options

My dear old dead Daddy always told me to look before leaping into anything, otherwise, you might find out the hole your dumb ass blindly leaped into is too damn deep to climb out of. And according to him, you never want to be the one saying, WTF, just happened! Well, I took dear old dead Daddy's advise and met with a lawyer today to see what my options might be...... IF....... mind you I said...... IF.......I decided to liquidate the union between the said parties of interest. Funny I used the word, liquidate.......but then again, I did hear it quite a bit today. Liquidate, said parties, of interest, and although he didn't come right out and say it, but you're fucked, should have been in there, as well.

Motivation

There is nothing I hate more that having to attend a meeting, and this one was mandatory. There was no way out short of it being a matter of life and death, no exceptions the memo stated. No exceptions!

Only one way out I thought, as I thumbed through the newspaper, searching for the obituaries. Scanning the names, not even a cousin twice removed, not even a friend of a friend, not one name, did I vaguely recognize. Damnit! No exceptions, no excuses, crumbling the newspaper, I resigned myself to the fate that awaited. But I had some time, maybe the phone would ring with an impeding death, a last reprieve from the coroner, I still could be saved, I refused to give up hope. I waited, I waited, hand ready to grab the phone, box of tissues for the crying eyes, I was ready, but no phone call came, not even a wrong number. I was doomed, the time had come, I could not wait any longer, feet dragging, dead man walking, down the corridor I went.

As I took a seat, I thought to myself, here we go again. Another meeting, going over the same stuff, listening to the same complaints, hearing the same suggestions, nothing new, nothing changed. How far from the truth, could I've been. Of course, there were some of the same old boring statistics, complaints, suggestions, but I won't bore you with those mundane details. However, I will tell you from the onset of the meeting, a guy sitting across the room caught my eye. I knew everyone there, had seen everyone there day in and day out, but had never seen this new guy. Turned out he was a quest speaker, one of those motivational speakers, some companies use to boost moral. Like I said, he had already caught my eye, but once he took the floor and began his speech, he had my undivided attention. He was what dreams are made of. I know you've heard women say "He undressed me with his eyes," well I'm sure he knows how it feels. Now, don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with the way he was dressed. Tie to match his blue shirt, shirt perhaps slightly starched, tucked into a pair of khaki pants, fitted just enough to reveal the slightest hint of a bugle would have been enough to allow my eyes to feast upon, but I had him undressed before he had a chance to utter his first words. I don't know about anyone else, but thank goodness the table prevented others in seeing just how motivated I was.

Rainy Night In Georgia

Never Ever...hopefully...Never Ever

Okay, I've got to say it. This is the scariest blog I've ever read. Stephen seems to be on the verge of suicide. Hope that's not the case! (comment left a few days ago)

Just so you know, if at anytime you ever were to hear that Stephen is dead and it appears to have been self-inflicted, it seems to have been intentional, an apparent dead by his own hands, please investigate! I will be the first to tell you there is a Killer on the loose, a fugitive on the run and he has my blood on his hands! Stephen loves himself too much to ever commit suicide. However, I will be the first to admit through the years at some of the lowest times in my life, my demons have tried their damnest. As I try to recall, I remember on two of the most darkest times in my life, I did think about taking my own life, one as a teenager and one not so many years ago. When a close, loved friend committed suicide, his death, my lost, touched me in a way I never thought I feel the sun's warmth again. This time in my life is perhaps the nearest I ever came, those demons, my demons, dragged me so far down, I almost gave in. For weeks, months, I functioned only on auto-pilot, a zombie going through the motions of how you would describe a loved one on life support, I had breathe but not life. Had it not been for pray, friends, and time, I would have been lost. The pain, the anguish is still there, but then so am I. No matter how low my demons may drag me down, somehow, someway I will survive.

Back To Work

Vacation time is over, time to drag out the old work boots and get your asses back to work. Finally, Stephen might have some time to himself once again. It seems as if everyone's vacation this year for one reason or another came at different times (mine still to come) and for that reason the house has been filled with coming and going and major activity, so much so, that Stephen has had very little time for himself. I've still been working and then on my days off, been pulled and tugged here and there. I'm so tired of hearing let's do this, do that, go here, you have a couple of days off, I've got the bags packed let's go and spend some time at the beach, let's go spend some time in Atlanta and do some shopping. No where in all this did I hear, Stephen, I know you only have a day off, stay home relax, get some rest, while we're gone. But I survived, I endured, I'm strong, I made it through to the other side. Now, maybe things will get back to some normalcy around here, and Stephen will have some time to himself, some down time, some time to be able to blog and visit friend's blogs, time to catch up.

Help, Bring a Key!

I haven't much time, listen carefully! I'm being held prisoner, held against my will. For weeks on end, shackled, chained, I've been and I'm going stark raving mad. A constant companion I've had, faithful, loyal, always there. It is as if the doctor has placed me on a suicide watch and failed to tell me about it. I need some space, I need some time alone. When did you say your vacation is over? When will I be set free? When will I have time to myself again?

Got to run, my shadow is coming.............please don't forget me..........

Regrets

When it is time for the flesh to wither, fall from the bone, when all is said and done, will I have any regrets...

Is It You?

Even though I haven't received a phone call or ransom note, doesn't make it not so. I know one of you has KIDNAPPED the sandman! For nights now, I have waited for my eyes to be dusted, but sleep has eluded me. It is obvious, he's been kidnapped, his dust confiscated! Stand up and confess, make it easy on yourself, don't make me have to track your ass down! I'm tired, I'm exhausted, I've got to have some sleep.


My kingdom for a restful nights sleep...............

Is The End In Sight

The war has raged on for so many years, one battle after another, a bloody war of right and wrong. I have struggled to reach the mountain top only to be washed down by the bleeding of a wounded heart, nails clawing into the dusty dirt, raw and tender, I have refused to let go. Clinging to the hope that there is, that there will be a glimmer of a new day, somewhere within reach, amidst all this cannon fire and smoke, I have refused to let go. But, have I the strength left to hold on, the strength to fight another battle or is the end in sight for me? Perhaps it is time to surrender, time to raise the white flag smeared with the drying blood, time to lick my wounds and fade silently away.........

Dear God

Dear God,

I know it has been awhile since our last talk but I was wondering if you had some spare time on your hands and maybe a miracle laying around that wasn't being used, now would be a good time to send it my way. I really need one. I don't want to be all selfish here, but time is running out in case you haven't noticed. I'm holding on to the faith that all things are possible for those that believe but the clock, on the wall, is ticking away and I'm not getting any younger here. Before it is too late, before I have more winkles than the bedsheets, send the damn miracle, please............. AMEN.

Afraid

This is a earlier post written way back in 2005, in the very infancy of my blog:

Cold Mountain Love...................

When I look into your eyes, not only do I see your soul but mine, as well. The breath you breathe in not only yours but mine,as well. The gentle touch of your hand across my skin warms me like a warm fire on a cold winter's night. My first waking thought, in the morning, is the same as my last thought before sleep captured me and held me prisoner in the darkness, that thought is you. My dreams of you are the only light keeping me safe from the insanity of the night. I am only complete when you're in my embrace, my arms around you, holding you, feeling the beat of your heart. Amazing all consuming love.

When I re-read the words, I ask myself? Have I really ever felt, really ever known this kind of love? Looking inside, deep inside, I know I have loved, I still love, and I know what it is like to be someones all consuming love, but when I ask myself . . .it scares me. A chill runs through me . . . I am cold . . . I can not feel the warmth of such a love and it scares me. I am afraid, I may never know this feeling and it scares me... I tremble.

Never Let Me Go

When I'm in your arms all the pain I fill inside is gone.

Hold me till nothing else matters..........

Slowly Fading Away

In the beginning, I knew you were not the holding hand type, but there was something about your hands, the touch of your skin, I could not resist. I knew this of myself, you knew this of me and it was OK. Each time I reached for your hand, each time our fingers entwined, your smile gave you away, telling me it was OK. This you did for me. Once, all I had to do was close my eyes and the memory was so vivid, you although gone, I could still feel your touch, your strength, the warmth of your heart, our fingers entwined, but time can be so cruel, so unforgiving an enemy. Remembering you is easy, I close my eyes, I tuck away my now life, and you are always there, but when I reach for your hand I grasp only the shadow of your memory. Your strength, your warmth is slowly fading, time is stealing you away and there is nothing I can do..............

Tired

All my days, all my nights, flowing seamlessly into one . . . no rest . . . no peace . . . no quiet. . .no time to think . . . I'm so tired.

A Voice Whispers

There it is again. Can you hear it? Listen! Surely you must, please tell me I'm not going mad?

Silence ..................

There is no need for words, I do not have to hear you speak them, your eyes, they betray you, I have my answer.

The voice, the whisper is coming from within . . . a voice, a whisper telling "me" it is OK.

My child, your journey has been long and hard, you have faced many trials, many tribulations, many storms have you weathered, but it is OK. "Step into the light," the voice whispers, "it will be OK."

Do I dare listen?

Believe?

Have enough faith?

Have enough strength?

Do I dare .................step into the light ........................

Friends

From the beginning you have been beside me, cradling me in your arms, the warmth of your body shielding me from the coldness of this world. When the currents try as they may, to pull me under, down into the abyss of death, you have been my strength, keeping my head above the raging waters. Where would I be without you?

Josh Groban - February Song

Sometimes a song says it all.....

Missing Piece

I am still looking for that last missing piece of the puzzle. I know it is still out there. At times, when I am down, at my lowest, when I am most vunerable, I will allow doubt to creep in and cloud the senses, but I know deep down that it is waiting for me. I refuse to give up, refuse to stop believing that someday I will find it and the puzzle will be complete.

Tug of War

Another day dawns in the life of Stephen and still the tug of war rages. The demons, my demons are still there, tauting me, haunting me, tormenting me, but I refuse to allow them to drag me back into the darkness . . . the darkness I have struggled so hard to escape. Wait, don't start shouting Hallelujahs from on High, I have not swung open the closet door yet, but something has changed. The white flag has been raised, my feet, for once, planted firmly on common ground. Years spent trying to analyse how, why, or what I should have done is over, it's to late, it's water under the bridge. Time spent contemplating on what the future holds is over, I cannot see further than today. So, honestly I can not say this year will be the year of freedom or if it will end like the last one, or hundreds of others that have come and gone, but you know, it is OK.

Shattered

It is hard, so very hard, to escape the demons. For weeks, I have been plagued, tormented by their presence. For weeks, I have been lost, hidden away from everyone, even at times hidden from myself. For weeks, lost in solitude, lost in silence, wandering aimlessly through the end of another year. Another year of dreams, broken promises, failed hopes made to myself . . . shattered. Like a trapped lightening bug finding freedom with the shattered glass, my dreams, my hopes . . . all gone with the passing of the old year. Is it possible, for new beginnings, new hopes, new dreams? Dare I wish upon the New Year?

Missing

During my morning shave, I stood there looking at the man in the mirror and I realized there was a part of him/me that I no longer could see. For five full minutes, I stood . . . shaving cream drying on my face, hand just holding the razor . . . face to face, I stared. The mirrored image was mine, each line, each wrinkle, etched by time I recognized, but something was amiss, something was different. A part of this man had vanished, a part of me, gone. No longer whole, I stood looking at an empty shell of the man that once was. I was afraid, I had hidden him for so long, shadowed him in secrecy, denied him for so long, that he had given up. His/mine/our hopes, our dreams swallowed up by the darkness of time. Standing there, staring into my own misty eyes, I wonder if our paths will ever cross again. . .

Comments

There are no words within the covers of the dictionary that could describe what it meant to me reading the comments each of you left on the "Crossroads" post. It only makes me realize that this journey is only made more wonderful by having friends, such as you. Hugs and Kisses: Michael, Dave, Steven, Derek, and Jon.

World Aids Day 2007

In 2007 33.2 million [30.6 – 36.1 million] people were estimated to be living with HIV.

BUT

With more than 6,800 new infections and over 5,700 deaths each day due to AIDS we must expand our efforts in order to significantly reduce the impact of AIDS worldwide.”

*data source: UNAIDS 2007 AIDS Epidemic Upd

Crossroads

When you find yourself wandering around in the valley of the shadow of death with no way out, it is hard finding the strength, it is hard trying to hold onto the faith that has been promised. When you find yourself surrounded by cliffs of jagged rocks and there is no rope, when there is no Bear Grylls vine to climb, how do you keep the faith? When you find yourself standing at the crossroads with no roadmap, with no GPS, how do you know which path to take?

Exhausted

The laughter, the smiles, the hugs were contagious, spreading like a virus, a good disease passing from one to another as each family member or friend arrived yesterday.

Where's my hug? Come here, I haven't seen you in so long.

Haven't seen me? We had lunch yesterday, we talked on the phone last night!

That was yesterday.

Outstretched arms reach and pull you in for yet another squeeze.

That's my family. Seldom a time can I recall not giving or receiving a hug as we see one another and always before leaving there is a hug or a handshake and the utter of those three little words . . . I love you. We don't think about it, it is something we do, it is something we have always done.

So why did I think about it or notice it more so, yesterday? My mind was racing as if a mule's condom bag had burst releasing a rush of its contents directly into my brain. I couldn't help it, I couldn't shut it down. The questions played over and over on my mind's movie screen.

If you knew? Would the hugs still be there? Would I ever hear those three little words . . . I love you? If you really knew?

If you knew? Would the hugs still be there? Would I ever hear those three little words . . .I love you? If you really knew?

Over and over . . . it played!

Today, I am exhausted.

Happy Thanksgiving 2007

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I could not let it go by without wishing you, my friends, a Happy Thanksgiving Day and letting you know how much I love and cherish each of you and how much I give thanks to you for always being there for me. Hugs and Kisses from Stephen

Wind Beneath My Wings

If only I had wings to fly. . .

It Was Hard

I heard the door open but this is a normal occurrence at work, people are constantly coming and going, so I didn't bother to look and see who had walked up behind me until a hand fell to rest on my shoulder. When I shrivelled around in the chair I came eyeball to crotch with a co-worker. A young guy I had never given a second glance but somehow he had transformed himself into a hot stud. He had the day off, had been working around the house and only stopped by to get something he needed from his locker. Tattered, ripped jeans barely kept his crotch full of man meat covered but the worn out fabric did nothing to hide his muscled thighs covered in thick black hair and here I was face level away. Hot Damn was the first thing that came to mind and I'm still thanking the Gods, I had the piece of mind not to have said it out loud. It was hard, so very hard, but I managed to control myself, at least the outer self, but inside . . . the inner self was melting with lust if the truth had to be told. Thank goodness it was a slow day, my concentration wasn't worth a damn for the rest of day.

I Need A Kiss

It's A Wonderful World

Back in 2005, I sat down in front of a blank computer screen and gave birth. Like a newborn baby it came into the world kicking and screaming. Struggling to stay inside, warm, safe and secure, it fought against the labor pains. Bring me my damn epidural now, I shouted. Wait! What was I thinking, was I crazy! Hell, if I had one of those, I wouldn't be able to feel my Dick! The computer screen stared back at me, like a doctor's face peering up from between outstretched legs, it waited. Push. . . push harder, damnit, I said, Push! I wait, I stare at the screen, another contraction comes, I PUSH, it starts to crown, I push harder, out pops some words, a sentence, a thought, it is out, I have given birth. Sucking in its first breath of air, my blog is born. I sit there staring at the words on the screen wondering what in the Hell was I going to do with it now? I hit publish . . . This is from an earlier post describing the day my blog was born, but truthfully it was the day I was born, at least the man I should have been. I had to push hard against the rusty hinges of this closet door, it wasn't an easy task, an easy decision. The doorstop that keeps it open has slipped a few times along the way almost trapping me back into the confines of this darkened closet but the door is still open and it is because of the friends I have met along this journey of self-discovery. It truly is a wonderful world we live in. Always remember, a comment, an email, being someones friend can turn an ordinary day into a special day. Thank-you for my special day. Hugs and Kisses, Stephen

A Blind Date and He Stood Me Up

Weeks and weeks of planning had went into this, all the preparations made, nothing left to chance, all the arrangements had been taken care of, I thought we had a date. I barely slept the night before thinking about our meeting, my stomach full of dancing butterflies, my eyes glued to the clock and its ticking seconds. I played out all the things that could happen, played out all the things I wanted to happen while I laid there waiting, wide awake. Closing my eyes, I tried to force myself to sleep, but I just couldn't wait any longer, I jumped up, I snatched on the clothes neatly laid out the night before and out the door I went. I knew I wanted to be there long before he arrived. I needed time to get my nerves settled down. I had to keep my excitement in check, I couldn't dare allow him to see what this meant to me. Our first meeting had to be perfect and I knew if I got there ahead of him, I had the advantage. I could watch his approach, I could judge if he was a keeper or not. He had to be at least an "8" before I would even consider it and then have some mass to go along with it. Call me a "Size Queen" if you want, but I wanted something I could wrap my fingers around, the bigger the better. It had been a long time for me and I needed a good one, I needed to feel alive again. I needed this to be my lucky day, but alias, it wasn't. I did everything I was suppose to do, I kept my end of the bargain, but he never showed up. I waited and waited. I looked and I watched. I prayed, but he never showed up. My blind date, stood me up!

How was your opening day of deer season?

I think perhaps this post needs a little explaining. My passion happens to be Deer hunting. My date, in mention, was with an 8 point buck, not a man. As much as I would have loved for it to have been about a possible encounter with a hunk of male flesh, I probably would have been the one not showing up, nothing interferes with my opening day of deer season.

Bowels of Hell

Sorry for the lack of posting but before I knew what had happened my demons escaped the chains of their confinement and like a thief in the night, they robbed me of any desire, any hope, any feeling. I was alive, there was life, the rise and fall of my chest as I gasped for air told me this, but there was nothing inside. A void, an empty cavity surrounded by the shell of the man, the man that once was. I looked, I searched, but as far has my eyes could see, there was nothing but blackness. I would be lying to you, I would be lying to myself, if I said I never thought about giving up. Many times I thought about taking the easy way out. Many times I thought about closing the door to forever remain in the darkness of this closet. Many times I thought about slowly slipping away, slowly disappearing back into the anonymity from whence I came. Would any one know I was gone? Would any one care? My demons taunted me with their whispers to hit the delete button. My finger rested on the key many times but I could not press, I just could not. Something, someone would not allow it. I stumbled, I bled from the jagged rocks, hand over hand, I clawed my way back from the Bowels of Hell. Beaten, battered, I emerge once again, I refuse to give up. . . I refuse to shut the door.

God

Are you there?

Are you listening?

Peering From Within

Like a nasty rumor too good to keep to ones self from mouth to ear it spread like a virus infecting each person it came into contact with.

Lock up your children,their coming to town. Their to camp on the outskirts of town, down by the river, they'll be. Keep your valuables close at hand,lock your doors, bar your windows, their coming to town. Down by the river, they'll be.

The virus spread.

My heart skipped a beat, maybe two when it came my time to be infected and I heard "they" were coming to town and "they" were to camp on the outskirts of town. Down by the river, I heard, they'll be. I wasn't afraid of losing a child, I wasn't afraid of being robbed in the dead of night, something far greater caused the hairs on my neck to stand up, and it was this something far greater that I was afraid of. The hands of the clock took their time ticking off the minutes, I waited. I wish I could say patiently I waited, but it was agonizingly painful, father waiting on his firstborn painful. But I waited, I had to know.

Black as a witches cauldron was the night, no moon, no stars, the darkest night I had ever seen as I made my way to the outskirts of town, down to the river, where they were supposed to be. Now too small an area, my heart pounded the walls of my chest in anticipation, scared to find out, scared not to find out. I had to know and this was my chance, perhaps, my only chance. I would have brought someone with me,if it had been possible but this was something I had to do alone. The only light of the camp flickered in the night keeping the arms of darkness at bay as shadows, blackened silhouettes, danced to the music. A stranger stepped from the darkness into the light of the camp, the music, the dance stopped, I stood there, I waited. Without a word, the oldest, not without pain, stood and walked toward me. The music, the dance began again as her gnarled twisted fingers took mine and led me away.

I have looked into the Gypsy woman's crystal ball and there was nothing. I thought there would have been more. I had prayed with all there was inside for more, but once the swirling smoke cleared there was nothing but a glass ball sitting on a table.

Acceptance can be such an evil word . . . she whispers.

Not fully open, not completely closed, always peering out into the world from within. A life, slightly ajar. A dream just out of reach.

Acceptance can be such an evil word. . .she whispers.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,
With pen in hand, I stare at the blank page, the empty lines, but there is nothing but darkness. Hidden in the void the words are there, they hunger for release, for freedom, but they cannot find their way out. The promise of a new life, a chance to live, tempts them from the light shining from underneath the door. Hostages held, bound, tied, the words struggle to come together. They know in numbers there is strength, in numbers words become thoughts, in numbers words are stronger than the sticks glued together to form the door that holds them captive. In numbers words become sentences, the lines no longer blank. In numbers words becomes ideas . . . dear diary, can you keep a secret?

I Know From Where The Tears Flow

From the start, the very beginning, a mist surrounded the truth of who I was, of what I was. Hidden in the folds of shadows, I traveled down a road searching, thinking, and yes, perhaps fooling myself into believing happiness, my happiness, truth, my truth was only a bend in the road ahead. The clarity of my vision nothing but a lie, me, nothing but a fool. A conclusion, a realization that has taken me a lifetime in admitting is painful, I bleed, the blood I shed are the tears of clouded eyes. I have lived a lifetime surrounded by the fog, surrounded by the gray and I fear it will never lift . . . I fear too much water has flowed under the bridge . . . I fear I have waited too long . . . I fear I will never see the colors of my life as it should have been.

Don't Know Why

In the beginning, they said it would take time, things would get better, would get easier, life must go on, they said. Don't cry they would say, you're a man, a man must be strong, be tough, suck it up, they said. God knows, I tried, but this was a battle I knew I was not going to win. No matter how hard I tried, I could not prevent the water inside from welling up. Higher and higher it rose, the dams of my eyelids were not strong enough, not high enough to contain it within. My cheeks felt the wetness of my tears, as they flowed. I cried. I stood in a room full of people and it didn't matter. I cried and damn it, I was a man.

That was how I felt when a very good friend died, a few years back. After the tears dried up, the well, that was my soul was empty. For weeks, for months, a zombie without feeling, without emotion, I went about the daily grind of what was expected, what was needed, running on auto-pilot.

And now, for days, that feeling of overwhelming emptiness has haunted my ever waking moment and I don't know why. Don't cry, you're a man, a man must be tough, be strong, suck it up, I say. God knows, I am trying but it is a battle I'm afraid I have lost again. Angrily I wipe the wetness from my cheek, but this time I don't know why . . .

Wet or Dry

Being home alone, nothing to do, bored out of my mind, I clicked into a chat room, a few days ago. What, hard to believe? Well, Annelle, I admit it, yes I do pray . . . I mean go to chat rooms. After weeding through, slipping and dodging those only interested in wanting to know, location, age, and always my favorite, how BIG is it, I met a guy that had been to the Land of Oz and gotten a brain. This guy impressed me, he turned out to be quite a conversationalist, well maybe typist, but none the less and more importantly he had a brain. Apparently, like me, he just wanted to talk. OK . . . OK, the whole conversation didn't consist only about global warming, we did talk about other things, as well. One of the more interesting topics that might make you raise an eyebrow was about pre-cum. Yes, you read it right, pre-cum. If you're a man, I sure you know about it. Steven, yes we had the same name, only spelled differently, apparently leaked like a faucet and at times had gotten himself into some embarrassing situations. I guess, if you think about it, hiding a hard-on is, well hard enough, but trying to conceal a wet spot could be a problem. How do you do it? I mean not do it, do it! But how do you hide your wet spot when it happens, he asked? Well, I don't, I replied. It is something that isn't a problem. Some of us do (leak), some of us don't, and I happen to be one of the ones that don't. Perhaps mine is broken, I typed. He knew some men didn't produce what some call the Nectar of the Gods, but had never met or talked with a guy that didn't have pre-cum. Gee thanks, I said, I don't know whether to feel honored or inadequate? He laughed and the conversation continued . . . of course, back to global warning!

The Perfect Vacation

It has come to my attention, actually it is something that I have known for quite some time. I live a boring life. For weeks, I worked almost none stop, then I forced myself to take a few days vacation to only come back exhausted and ever since I've been back, nothing but work, work, and more work. I need some excitement, I need to escape, I need to find my paradise . . .

The sun rose in the eastern sky like it had done the day before and the day before that one, having completed its job for this morning, this day. As rays of light flickered on the walls like winged fairies dancing in the morning light, the night gave way. Having failed at another attempt, Death along with the darkness and all its shadows disappeared, slowly fading away as my eyes opened.

If this had been any other, both feet would have hit the floor before the sleep had cleared the eye, but not today. Alive, awake, but motionless as a corpse, I laid there. I had no appointments, no commitments, I had no reason to spring forth from the warmth of the bed that cradled my body. I was on vacation.

Outside, the mountain laurels rustled in the blowing breeze, the morning air still crisp, still clean. The mountain stream, its waters as cold as the ice cubes in a tall glass of sweet southern tea, flowed downstream. Over boulders, over branches of fallen trees the waters rushed, its power pounding the rocks smooth in its haste, its hurry to reach a destination not yet seen. As the Sirens of old beckoned Odysseus, the beauty outside calls to me, with all its charm, its allure, it tries to draw me away.


But it will fail. I'm already in paradise.

Mood: Exhausted

Why do we call it a vacation, when we get back home often times more give out, more tired, more exhausted than we were before we left. I need a vacation from the vacation.

Soothing Hands

What was I thinking when I made the offer to work, not only my shift but take on the responsibility of two other colleagues as well. I must have been out of my mind. Some days I had my doubts, I second guessed myself, I wondered if I had taken on a task greater than my strength, greater than my endurance. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Day after day, nothing but work, endless days turned into weeks, but it is over. Dragging, limping, licking my wounds, I endured, I survived.

When I did have a few minutes to myself, I read the comments you left, the emails you sent. They were gentle hands soothing my tired body, they were a Gods send. Hopefully, soon I will be by to visit with each of you, and find the time to answer your emails. Hugs and Kisses . . .

What Day Is It?

I've been busier than a honey bee sucking nectar from a field of wild flowers and there is no end in sight. I'm running on auto-pilot, no time to think, to dream, to post. Someone please untie me . . . I need a day off!

Last Page, Last Line

Were you being polite or did you see the hidden secrets behind the veils of blue when our eyes met? Could this have been the reason for the brief, almost non existent upturn curve of your lips. A flash of warmth felt, a blush of red, had I given myself away? Why could I not stop these betraying eyes from looking? Why did you not look away? Now I felt like one of the opened books that laid before me, I was being read, I was being comprehended. Your eyes searching page by page, reading the secrets I kept hidden between the lines.

Dare I turn to the last page and read the last line or do I have the courage to let this story play out, chapter by chapter?

Did You Know

When the door opened, I did not look up, my eyes were transfixed on the book that laid before me, concentrating on the words of the text. I was spell bound, lost in their meaning, lost in my comprehension, unaware of your presence until I heard you speak. The words escaped your lips, in a whisper, barely audible, but none the less loud enough for me to hear them as you introduced yourself to the lady behind the counter. Your voice was the magic it took to break the spell that had been cast on me. No longer a prisoner to the text, my eyes lifted from the page, freed to search the room, freed to find the voice that had broken their chains. Did I stare too much, perhaps too long? Did you have that familiar feeling that someone was watching you, was this the cause, the reason our eyes met. Could you tell, did you know even then . . .

Finding My Way Out

The opening of my eyelids drove the darkness of the night away this morning as they opened to the sunlight shining through the windows of the bedroom. Arms folded over the chest, corpse like, I lay there motionless, allowing only the involuntary actions of my body to function. Blinking, clearing the eyes of sleep, clearing the mind of clouded dreams, I laid there. Aware of my morning hardness, aware of the deafening silence of an empty house, my senses became alive, but I remained a corpse in waiting, eyes staring out into space. Sitting on the nightstand, only a turn of the head away, a clock faithfully counted the seconds of the passing of the day, but I lost track of time. . . I laid there. The gears of a thinking mind, my mind were turning but no images were being projected, there was nothing but a blank screen. A maze of grey matter and I could not see the exit sign, body motionless, mind spinning, I wandered, I searched its corridors, finding only more dead ends. I laid there . . . catatonic . . . staring into space . . . Amelia Earhart lost.

Tumble Weed

All my life . . . I've been the mighty oak, grounded, able to withstand the gale force winds of the hurricane. Lifelines securely tied, I've been the anchor in the storm.

But . . . time is taking its toil. The winds batter my branches, even when there is calm. The teardrops overflowing the dam of my eyes wash away the earth that remains even when the clear sky keeps at bay the waters of the storm. Uprooted, ravaged by time, I topple over like the ancient pillars of Rome. I fall victim, to time. I can endure for you no longer. No longer for you can I survive. You must take breathe on your own. Our strength that once flowed through my veins is no more, I grow weaker, to continue will surely mean death for the both of us. Even now I wonder if it is too late? Have I strength enough to let go, enough faith, to allow myself to be blown across the barren landscape.

A tumble weed searching for its anchor . . .

It's Getting Too Crowded In Here

Too many irons in the fire, too many pots on the stove, too many hands kneading the dough. Hands reaching out, hands pulling me here, tugging me there, unable to go forward, unable to go backward, I stand and spin around and around. I can do just so much. I can be in just so many places at one time, and frankly, I do not want to do that, or that and I do not want to go there, be there. I don't suppose one of your many options being flung my way is to leave me the fuck alone, is it? You have problems? Well, I hate to inform you but so does she, he and it. And do you want to know what else, so do I. I would love to pull the magic wand out sprinkle you with fairy dust and make the rain clouds over your head disappear today, but I can't, I'm not God! If I was, do you think I would be living in this fucking closet? Can't you understand, I can not fix your problem, stop calling, the damn ringing of the phone is driving me insane. Don't you get the message by now? I'm not answering it! Today is my day off and I have a date with Stephen, Jr. That is, if you will stop interrupting me with the damn ringing of that phone.

Naked

I tear out, by the roots, a lifetime of teachings.

Acceptance without questioning why, will be no longer.

I stand here, as the day I was born, naked, bleeding from the wounds of a lifetime.

Seeking the truth, I present not to you, but to myself a blank canvas.

This time I will be the painter.