journal 7.4

Lately, my heart cries its way down my left arm, tears full of nickel and nettle. A quick ride on a search engine tells me the right words are “sudden numbness”, but I know a dripping-sad when I am one.

Lately, my yawns stop short of finishing and I bite at the air like a baby dinosaur, a baby that’s been hungry too long and doesn’t know why, a baby that reaches for the instincts of a feeding. A quick call to an expert tells me the right words are “nervous system dysregulation”, which seems like real fancy talk for saying the same thing.

I know an abandoned dinosaur when I am one.

I spent most of this long weekend in bed, angry, and I think angry is a hard look for this body to pull off anymore. The shingles and the flooring just don’t hold like they used to, and I’m falling into pieces of what taste like coins.

If I had a nickel for every time I should have given up hope in normal people doing the right and brave thing, I’d have enough money to repair this old house of love and bone and dinosaur.

I am disappointed in humans I have to see every day, and that is not an easy way to live, and maybe that is why I bite at the air and call it an unfinished yawn. How dare oxygen sustain this unkindness, this hypocrisy, this violence. No wonder I chomp and chomp, small determined teeth versus everything.

I have been so vague for so long that I don’t even know where to start, but I do know the starting is inevitable.

Last night I told my roommate, “I have not spoken to my best friend since November, but if I called her right now and gave her even a summary of what was happening, she would be here.” An hour later, she texted, unprompted. A quick check-in with the universe would call this a miracle or coincidence, but I know love.

I know love, I know love, I know love, and I trust it.

In the kitchen with my roommate, feeling returns to my arm when he says he is hungry and would like to split a sandwich with me. On the phone with a friend, in conversation about flamethrowers of all things, I yawn deep and full. That was almost a week ago and I still fantasize about that sweet gulp of air. I write a blog post and, before it has even ten likes, my email and my phone and every social media platform is ringing, full of open hands, happy to catch my tears and invest them back into love.

There are things beyond the reach of search engines and experts. There are feelings beyond the strain I am stuck in now.

I still know this.
I’m just less certain.

20 thoughts on “journal 7.4

  1. I know and feel what u write .. been there a few times myself. I often feel like im drifting on an ocean, no land inside. And time over time I enjoy when the ocean is quiet and im just slowly a drift, laying on my back looking at the sky. But after a while i miss the waves, because only when im lifted to the top and down again, I for real feel that im alive !
    Sending gentle hugs from me to you

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Maybe you should tell love what you need to that was so sad im tearing up reach out and the universe is telling you to. You need to tell loved one of why you feel the way you do they probably do feel same but like you said mankind are not exactly how society made them…may feel daunting but love has no boundaries .
    Yours sincerelyours


  3. Truly, experience described in poetry will always be far more meaningful than anything a search engine or an expert can explain. Sometimes, it feels like the “experts” really know nothingβ€”they tell you sweet words and it helps for the time being, but some experts understand less than others. At least all the experts can say that only YOU truly know yourself. The way you write in your poems tells me that you do, and I’m so glad I get to read them every time you post. Even though they can be sad, it’s the meticulous way they’re written, where it feels like each word is placed for a reason, that somehow gives me hope even though I don’t know where it’s coming from. Best wishes πŸ’•



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