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6:45 p.m. - 2003-06-30
the hungry ghosts
endless circles and changing cycles and a subtle unsettling shift in my perception. when i look at the things i've lost i don't know whether to laugh or cry. my relationships bleed together in my mind, the names and faces and habits and fears and all the things they shared.

that's the thing - of all the men i've truly loved, and even the ones i've tried to, nearly all fit the same mould, and the wounds they inflict are layered so thickly it's sometimes hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. my weaknesses are emotional and irrational, and when someone is exploiting those weak points i find myself feeling more sympathy than resentment. i don't want to stop loving, but i do want to stop laying myself open to so much pain, and i don't even know if that's possible. ubi ouquat amore, sequere. when love beckons to you, follow him. kahlil gibran wrote that, a long time ago.

when love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. and when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. and when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. ... love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. but if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: ... to be wounded by your own understanding of love; and bleed willingly and joyfully.

and this is easy to do, and i do it again and again. the hard part is remembering the pain, understanding the betrayal, and feeling the abuse of my love. and i wonder time and again why i trust so easily.

all the powerful muscles in my body shake in fear and anticipation. the animal perceptions inside me know that something is wrong. things are changing and i can't see where it's taking me. i can force myself to relax, to pause, and listen, and feel for the differences, but it won't stop there. conscious relaxation simply shifts tension into involuntary muscle spasms in the weaker muscles, the complicated ones.

i can feel the ripples moving through my brain. a single drop of mercury fragmenting into infinitly smaller pieces in the pathways of my mind, forging new connections and sealing old knowledge away. virtual attic space in my head, cluttered with memories like cobwebs, like rusted gears and tangled wires and softly decaying cloth. dreams like parchment crumble as i hold them to the light, and i'm left with meaningless fragments and tiny shards of mirror under my skin.

i reflect you and the nightmares you hold inside. you cover your mouth with both hands to keep it all in, but i see them in your eyes like moths and the way you turn away from the stars at night.

i dreamt again that i had wings. muscles in my back straining against the power of my mind and impersonal pull of gravity until storms came raging in the night and carried me away.

 

 

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