Nobody holds a mirror up to my demons like Mreeuh does.
Mreeuh told me last year while reading my birth chart that I was addicted to sadness. We were at the West 4th Street stop, and I stopped walking when she said it. I felt so exposed I almost slapped her. We spent a good 20 minutes after that with me ricocheted into silence, staring blankly into a perfect summer sunset while she told me she bet all writers, all artists probably had the same affliction. Half serious, half cajoling me out of my own head.
I couldn’t help but think of Rainer Marie Rilke’s words in Letters To A Young Poet, in which he advised not to write about love, because there are plenty of people who already do it and do it better than you ever could. He said to write about something new, something unique.
I found my niche in writing, I suppose. I found my uniqueness.
What comes first, the chicken or the egg?
What comes first, the sadness or the story?
one of my favorite poems.
may your autonomy come first, may you forgive those who have misled you, may you cherish those who tell you the truth about yourself, may you never know the lonely bed of wasted time, may your personality never attempt suicide by lowering its standards, may you never succumb to the death wish of vapid companionship, may you find your future self in every lover, may you always remain ready to leave, may your improvement and self-mastery come before all else, may you never obligate yourself to another’s validation, may you never worship your partner, may your love and your religion never betray each other, may you take pride in your company, may you remain willing to put your pride aside for your company, may your connections be a result of your pre-existing fulfillment and not a source, may your company and solitude enrich each other, may each lover introduce you to new methods of creation, may you recognize when you are being groomed for abuse, may you remember to provide everything you seek, may you never be seduced by politicians who seek your validation before considering your emotional welfare, may you never breach respectful distances before allowing another to make an informed decision, may your experiences improve your language and vice versa, may you never take it personally when another person’s requirements do not involve you, may you never apologize for your distances, may you seek gratification in the rarity of a person and not in the title they assign us, may you transcend the need for reciprocity, may you forge invincibility by effectively communicating your pain, may you nurture yourself through nurturing others who know what they have when they have you, may you commit yourself to the magic of union by granting your lover’s wishes, may you remain free from shame by embracing the truth in all experiences, may your freedom set your lovers free, may your love for each person make them special and unique, may your lovers never retrospectively resemble each other in their patterns of disappointment, may you submit yourself to the paradoxical spontaneity of contradictory feelings, may you find liberation in complete submission, may you always choose wisely and find a teacher and friend in every lover, may you never overdraft your emotional account to fall for poetic advertisements for ego-stroking, may you go all out for the sake of romance and let the chip fall where they may, may you never expire for unrequited love, may nothing ever be too good to be true, may your truth be best possible thing, may you never compromise your vulnerabilities to protect another’s guilt, may you never insult your own intelligence with meaningless and convenient sex, may you embrace your urges as a divine jolt of the senses, may you never be demonized for your arousal, may you never apply masks lest you attract more masks, may your connections be evidence of your revolutionary drive for self-autonomy, may your heart be the compass, may you find comfort and thrill in both home and vacation, may you never know a place where love is not, may you never know a place where love is not, may you never know a place where love is not…
hoarding heavy stories to
mock your weightlessness
her spine curved like a question next to his body, still warm and sticky sweet, while her eyes shot holes in the night sky. behind her, isolated to peripheral vision, he counted vertebrae and dreamed about tracing the soft curve of her belly, and after a few moments, whispered softly, quietly, like a secret,
“darling, those pursed lips of yours, don’t they ache from all the strain?”
and somehow, those words, they cascaded through her hair, tickled her outline, untangled her limbs, bit at her body until she recoiled into him, suddenly, urgently, with a short, staccato breath
and for a moment, there they were, paired knees like quotations of the same phrase until she slowly, finally, turned and let the moonlight study her back.
feel free to reach out, anytime.