Having traveled endless circles around the sun only to return to the same exact place each and every time, I lie back upon the bed and feel the warm heat of the blankets underneath my tired bones. I wasn’t always so tired, but now the days seem to stack themselves in towers which compress my chest like so many cinder blocks until it is genuinely hard to breathe. Drifting off into the abyss as I fall deeper into the darkness, there are dreams of another time and another place, another life and another version of myself which is dying to exist but I get tripped up inside the irony of it all and in some ways haven’t changed a single bit in decades. The skin fades but the eyes still shine like ocean in sunlight; the heart palpitates, lungs ache, but the ways in which we pleasure ourselves become increasingly hedonistic. In my childhood there was so much wide-eyed awkward potential, in my teens so much secrecy, wonder, and fear. The black cord necklace of his he fastened around my neck, my mouth grown thick with the taste of his heavy cologne. He lead me around and around for months like a new pet as I learned my body was a playground, my body a hot loaded gun. In my twenties, angst and freedom and danger and escape. All the power I claimed as my own back then without flinching terrifies me, takes my breath away now. In my thirties, perhaps something which could be described as desperation, devastation, destruction, but each one laced with sex and whiskey and hope. There is sweetness in numbness they just need you not to admit it. Numbness is like comfort but doesn’t feel nearly as close to the soul. Forty is no more excuses. I should own myself by now so what is it I’m searching for that is always just out of reach? There is a voice inside which is impossible to silence though it keeps telling me things I don’t want to hear about time and space, about regret and neglect, seduction and truth. The spine straightens, curves, arcs, at the thought of it. The stomach in the pit of my throat leaps at the sound of the grip of it. It is a kind of sick hunger wrapped around a deep moaning sigh. It is without name, it is without a face. But from time to time when I catch myself reminding the cells of my body to breathe, I think I can see the whites of its eyes reflecting themselves in mine.
Allison Marie Conway 
I love this image and your passionate writing, Allison!
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Hey Dave, thank you so very much. 🙂 Hope you are doing well out there.
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I’m doing well, sweetheart. I hope you are, too. I always enjoy your writing and hearing your voice. Stay safe. ❤
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I’m so glad to hear it, my dear. I am hoping to have some kind of spoken word piece up for tomorrow. Please, you stay safe as well. ❤ ❤
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Thank you, Allison! 🤗🤗
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Just stopping by to say hi and to wish you to have the most majestic of weeks possible. May you be showered with heartwarming moments, delightful joy, and invigorating love… ❤️
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This is so kind and thoughtful of you, I am so touched. I’m smiling. ☺️ I felt this whole message in my heart. Thank you for being a warmth in this cold world. ❤️❤️❤️ And I wish you the very same, too. Big hugs. ❤️
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❤️
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I’m glad to hear from you for even though we are strangers in many ways I think of you and your breathtaking word weaving every day. Not just because I miss your words but also because I care about your being. Your words helped on a lot of dark days that I encountered. I just want to share whatever positive vibes and energy I possess with you. Thank you. 🙏❤️🙏
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It’s funny isn’t it, to be strangers out here. And yet here is also where we write the things that ache within us. Things we can’t say anywhere else. It is a weird paradox. But to hear you say that you care, that my words have helped you, this to me feels very lovely and special and important. Thank you, stranger friend. I hope you have a really good day. ❤ ❤
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I couldn’t agree more. Part of me finds it sad that we find it hard or impossible to express our inner world and turmoil in our “everyday” world. At the same time I realize that doing it might raise too many questions and cause unease or worse because for some reason we are uncomfortable hearing such things from those that we share everyday life. But then again – everyday life might take our expressions too literally which would create an unnecessary tensions and confusion. Nevertheless I am grateful that this world HERE exists so we can experience the deepest emotions of stranger friends… It’s comforting. Heartwarming. beautiful. ❤ ❤ ❤
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“Take our expressions too literally” – this has captured my attention. I’m going to think on this, I find it quite compelling actually – in a lot of ways I think that is very true. I am very grateful this place exists, too! ❤ ❤ ❤
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❤
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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