I  should have never introduced her to tumblr. I can’t be honest on my own blog anymore, and when things get to much and I need to vent, she takes things the wrong way and texts me about it. My anxiety gets out of control and I start to panic and then I end up deleting the post just to please her… Because she took it the wrong way, because she somehow feels responsible for a mental illness I’ve had 10 years before I met her. I feel like theres duct tape around my mouth. Now I’m on here, my blog meant purely for poetry and creative writing, venting because I know she won’t see it and I have nowhere else to go…

I think it may be Grief’s feelings overflowing onto my own. I doubt this is how I really feel… But I miss her, Lottie. Or at least the woman I remember in my dreams, in old photographs. I miss her. I wish she was here, I wish I could hear her voice, just one more time.

I was ugly. I am ugly, and she saw beauty in me that went beyond my skin… She loved me despite the disgusting shell I’m in, and if I appreciated her, she would be with me now. Silence wouldn’t be my only lover.

Or at least, that’s what Grief thinks. And he’ll never let me forget it…

I should have been a better man.

Grief, shut up. Please for one day, shut up…

only I were a lion. Covered in gold and draped in red thread, lord and master of all he desired. If only the sun disappeared and hid away, in the dark where I am safest, unseen, unheard and alone. If only the strings would have broke and the pumps hadn’t done there job. If only my blood was rare and not in stock.

If only was romantic but now is manic and desperate. ‘A permanent solution to a temporary problem’ he told me. I am the selfish lair on the other end, I want the permanent fix now and I will never settle for less. I will not compromise this as I have so many times. I will not hide my claws and fangs and minor love.

But I do, I hide and… I can’t do this anymore.

Red In Black

With power in my hands, I would do a million things.
But if I held golden traits and amber waves of flame, I would surely melt into nothing.

I never really got over the pain of losing you. Just put it in a few boxes and pretended it wasn’t there.

Incoherent Memory Bank

It all fell apart at the flick of a switch, a flick of a switch in your head.

And the yellow and green ribbon rushes away, behind a pint glass and a guitar chord you can never find.

It’s not even sunset yet, but light the candles, hide the smell of smoke from the doctors and nurses.

Cheesy mash potatoes with bacon on the side. I hope no one cares it’s been 3 days in a row. 

It’s all over there, in two boxes. I should send it all back to the pan lane.

I’ve been ignoring my poetry blog.

And I’m sorry. But I’ll post more on here. I promise.

Three Kinds - Short Story

I have been in love three times in my life. All times have left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a disbelief that love can never exists in this modern world of faceless, emotionless technology. This tale of disbelief I will suspend for now, but know that my reasons are just and unfortunately accurate when one observes the behaviours of our generation and the generation to come.

I digress - I have been in love three times in my life, and I can not bare to be in love a forth time, alas I said I could not do it a third time or second; however it is this third time where I doubt the love I ‘felt’ the first two times…

Beauty and personality are dangerous things. They will drive you mad or could eventually destroy you. Love is just the lesser evil to war. But pure love, unjustified and unshallow love does exist. It is a stones throw away, but a universe apart - unattainable and unfathomable. This love undiluted or made disingenuous by the modernity of human interaction does exist; however at human kinds current state it is impossible for us to comprehend.

But when you find that love and we are unobstructed by the fog of our own selfish lives, hopes and dreams we will never be able to obtain it because it is always the impossible that we fall in love with. I guess, that’s what makes it love and for me, the fact that it will never be experience by me, the fact that it is an impossible daydream is what defines love.

It exists, but it is impossible.

I have fallen in love three times in my life. The first time, after having three years to think about it after it ended, was forced. I loved Lottie, the blonde haired Irish-English firecracker more than I loved myself and there lay the problem. The fiery nature that is found in deep in her Irish blood was buried under fear and anxiety, insecurity and lost hope and when coupled with my self-hatred and depression we were not good for each other. In the end she let me go because I kept her back and I believe that was the right choice to make.

I did not love her as soon as I met her, although I did have an interest in her, deep and keen. She fell for me as soon as she saw me but for me it was gradual and maybe, maybe I loved her out of obligation - because she loved me. It took me two years of drinking and drug abuse that nearly killed me, twice, to get over her and I now believe that because it was a laboured and forced love, that is why it was so hard to let go of, like a jigsaw piece jammed into a space it’s not meant to be in, jammed in so tightly that when the two come apart they are left bent, torn and broken.

Luckily for her she wasn’t so broken that glue and the love of another man could not fix, and I am happy for her. But I am penitently ripped, the scars that were left will never heal and I keep the bleeding at bay with antidepressants, wine and art. 

The second time I fell in love was about six months after my binging had ended and a full year after I had known this person. My opposite in nearly every way but our friendship blossomed and we soon became best friends and even dated for a while. A polite and well spoken girl from London who counter-acted my brash and unforgiving Scottish ways she was the Ying to my Yang. Unfortunately it is a myth that ‘they’ in all their wisdom and anonymity, have force feed you - opposites do not attract. She could not love me romantically and I could tell she tried and I have so much respect for her for trying but the feeling for her was not there. So I did what I had to, I stopped loving her.

My experiences with Lottie left me cold and selfish and almost mechanical in my passion and almost instantly, when she told me she had found a man she cared about immensely, I stopped loving her romantically. Maybe it is the fact that she is my best friend that gave me the ability to do what I had to as easily as I did. I can not be sure…

Both these times were not instant, there was no ‘love at first sight’, there was no passionate orchestral soundtrack, there was nothing that really echoed what I grew up to believe what love was. So, were those feelings love or infatuation? Or is this feeling now, the third kind, infatuation, or the love that I always thought I felt before?

This third time took no thought, I was not even allowed one, there was no question for months on end, there was no stopping it from ripping through me like javelin, taking every organ within me on the way out of my chest. This was, is, absolutely terrifying… This, I cannot describe simply and won’t even dare try to interpret emotionally. All I know is that I fell in love with this woman as soon as she opened her mouth and before I even knew her name. I am free when I speak with her, to be myself, awkward, crude, selfish and arrogant and I am  rewarded with her laugh, and infectious one at that which goes deep and pulls out all the passion of a redheaded woman. She admires the way I eat and drink, our ideas are similar and our passions and interests are almost identical. 

If I were a more spiritual man, I would say that I have found a soul mate, but I find that idea so laughable that it makes my spine shiver at the idea. But, shit, shit shit shit shit shit. I have fallen in love for a third time… And for a third time it is unrequited. 

She has a man. It is a stones throw away, but a universe apart 

But this is the purest love I have ever felt, instant, violent and powerful.

Writing about this has taken too much out of me. I will stop for now. But know this, love is instant, or at least this one was. It does not leave us with an explanation to why or how, it just is and it is unforgiving and unapologetic. It will rip through us and cause more pain than joy. That is what love is, so if you bleed you know that you are in love.

I have known this beautiful, charming, intelligent, exciting and adventurous woman for just over a week and I am completely besotted with everything she is. 

This is love. A stones throw away, but a universe apart.

I stayed up all night waiting to talk to you.
I stayed up all night to hear if you missed me.

But you probably hate that I’m in love with you, it’s not your fucking problem, it’s mine.

But please don’t leave me alone.

Because you’re the only reason I’m still here…

Please don’t leave me alone.

Because losing you is the only thing that I fear.

You do it not because it hurts.

You do it because you have to.

Because you’re a friend.

Because you’re a confidant.

Because you’re the one Scotsman in her life.

Because you help her pack in the early hours of Sunday…

Because you can’t have everything.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

I’m sitting up all night keeping myself awake.

Because maybe you’ll talk to me.

Fool me once…

I’m glad I chased that conversation. I bit my tongue and held back my yawns, even though my dinner was growing cold and my hot chocolate was growing a skin.

I’m glad I didn’t end it with good night, but continued it about art and materialism. I’m glad I asked you the questions I was too afraid to ask. I’m glad I held my breath and dived into talking. Into myself. I’m glad you accepted it.

I’m glad I stopped hunting that invisible song in my head,.

Now I have Saturdays and white chocolate. 

Quiet kind of evenings

I’m scared I can’t give you everything you crave.

I’m scared I won’t know which for is which.

I’m scared I don’t know which wine drinks well with what.

I’m scared I can’t eat oysters and gratin potatoes.

I’m scared I’ll never know what it all means.

I’m scared I’m too simple for you.

I’m scared I’m not well spoken enough.

I’m scared because I don’t have a lot of money.

I’m scared because I can only make for you and not buy.

I’m scared because I want to make a mess

I’m scared because I’m just me.

I’m me and you are you. 

"I love you an unspecified amount"

A silent love is hard to bare.

You hide and you keep it there.

Until it’s needed or until it dies.

But she’s worth the wait. Because you love her.

I haven’t written in a long, LONG while. But after losing my job last week I’ve been hit with several doubts in my heart and mind: about my choice in career, my masculinity and my ability to make a woman I’m falling in love with happy. This is what I produced.

Fear, doubt and other such miseries.

Though the future isn’t bright, it’s far from fallen. Though my circumstances changed I won’t stop performing. I’m a cynical depressive and a creature of doubt but I’ve learned how to keep my light from going out. It took two long years for me to get it together, obsessed and oppressed by my own selfish letters, my imaginary life of a past that had died, I had to bite through my tongue to remind myself I’m still alive.

Now I feel like I’m back to square one, I am swimming in the choices that have now become, the status quo that I am not satisfied with, but my best friend told me if I ain’t then I should change it. Easier said that it is to do but I feel like if I don’t I will never find a way through, I know what I want and I know what I need but I’m hoping to a God that they are one in the same, God please!

Am I risking my time and effort in the futile? Will I again fall to demons that destroy all that’s crucial? The lies, the fear, the memories - chipping and chipping away until I can no longer breath. Maybe I need some time to myself, but I feel that I’ll waste away in my hell and the mystery. I wish I could tell the future, I wish I could see the person that I’m meant to be.

I spend too much time in this place, but I feel like I’ve just come home from grace and serenity and things that weren’t meant for me. I say again I’m a creature of self-hate and greed. But I know I can be better than that, I can get of this rock and I can get it all back, but I’m afraid of the cost to my own convictions, I want to stay a dragon and I won’t fucking be a victim.

I should be saying this to people who matter, I want to relinquish it from blogs and make it all completely shatter. But I’ll never be her a man of power, because I have a tumblr and I am a coward.