[Untitled]

If I were a better man
Nothing would make me other than I am
From the day I was born to the day I will die
I would not let fate take me awry.
So along with life and social folds
My fixed resolves may still hold
If only I were a better man.

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Something that happened a long time ago when the fire alarm went off during a play

The flashing stopped and I watched her for recognition of that.  She didn’t seem to be aware.  With a warm voice I whispered to her that the alarm was off and that she’d be okay.

The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the beginning of the play.

“They’ll be starting again, do you want me to help you to your seat or do you want to stay here?”

“Here,” she breathed

“Alright,” my voice was unrecognizable to me, “I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

“I don’t want you to miss it.” she said quietly.

“I’m alright,” I whispered back as the lights fell, “what would you like me to do?”

“Go watch.” she said.

“Alright.”  I found her shoulders in the darkness and we fell into what seemed to be the perfect embrace.

She leaned into me, she couldn’t have known who I was. I didn’t know who she was, but in the black, nearly silent auditorium, we stayed there for a perfect moment.

I rose, and I wish I hadn’t.  I should have stayed by her side, but I moved on.

I didn’t identify her until after the performance.

I hugged her again, and the rush of the crowd dissolved in her copper hair.  I whispered to her, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

I looked into her crystal blue eyes and her diamond smile, and I walked away.

After Goodbye

I sit alone in our secret place
looking out at the valley below me.
My thoughts wander away,
back down the trail
through distance and time immeasurable,
back to that first embrace

That perfect, warm hug;
The simple act that would surpass
all experiences in life
and by which all others would be measured

That moment
when the rest of the world faded away
and it was as it would ever be,
just you, and I,
together

I let my mind stay with you,
wanting for some part of us to still be together
regardless that those years,
with you,
have passed away

I hope,
in whatever existence you are now,
that you’re happy,
and,
every once in a while,
that you look in on me
and remember every moment,
just as I do

Paranoia As It Is

“Very often, multiple times a day, I see how much I’m falling in love with you. I don’t do well with that… I pretend to be open with people. I love giving the appearance of vulnerability, allowing others to know just enough about me for them to feel like they have the upper hand… That’s not the right word… I make them feel like they know me, and I watch them to see what they think of me. But I never truly allow myself to be vulnerable with them.

“With you, I am completely and totally vulnerable. I have truly opened up… I’ve allowed myself to fall in love with you very hard, and I struggle with that, because when I’m falling I don’t feel in control. I don’t know where the bottom is, and if it’s going to hit me and hurt really bad, or swallow me up forever.

“That I can handle, I think. If this is all real I can deal with that. The anxiety, and again I’m sure that I shouldn’t feel this, is that it’s not real. My anxiety is that it’s all an experiment, or the next season of my life…

“I am so paranoid, you have no idea. And so I have never allowed myself to trust someone entirely. Never… So far, you are the single person that I have been the most honest to in my entire life. And that terrifies me…

“What if it’s not real. What if I’m just a fascinating project, my entire life an experiment, and this is the next, most intense stage yet, leading to the hardest impact from the highest fall I’ve been through? What if my whole life my limits have been tested, charted and cataloged, and the experiment is to see what builds me, what destroys me, and how far I can go before it kills me.”

“Don’t say anything yet. Appear to be concerned, but know that this is a fragile situation. Let the subject feel paranoid for a short amount of time, and I personally will tell you what to say when he continues. Standby.”

“I’m so afraid. This has been somewhere on my mind for the last six years. Five years ago I actually wrote a letter telling whoever is running the experiment to stop, to let me go. More important to me, I asked to be told that it was happening. I have to know if this is happening…

“It’s driving me crazy. I feel like I’m being watched and recorded everywhere I go. Everything I do and say…

“I don’t even feel safe thinking sometimes…”

“Brain scans show the subject legitimately believes this. Cortisol levels are higher than ever previously recorded.”

“Stand by.”

“I overthink everything to try to feel like I’m on par with whoever is running this. I want to be able to prepare for when one thing ends that another is going to begin. Olivia’s a bad person, what are you going to do? Here’s three of your ex-girlfriends all together, what are you going to do? You’re handling it too well, let’s take Chris out of the picture in a tragic way and bring Olivia back. I hate it… Sometimes I feel like I’m becoming self aware, most of the time I just feel insane…”

“Subject is actually calming down a little bit.”

“I’m so sorry that all of this is coming out. You didn’t sign up for this.”

“Be ready. You know the drill, as I say it starting now. ‘I signed up for this when I said I love you. I am so sorry I don’t have the right words for you. I don’t know what you need to hear.’”

“I signed up for this when I said that I love you. I am so sorry I don’t have the right words for you… I don’t know what you need to hear.”

“Amygdala stimulation is high. The subject is agitated.”

“Log the response.”

“I need to hear that I’m right! But that’s not true is it? Even if it was no one would tell me… I need help, legitimate psychological help. I just hate psychiatrists so much, I don’t want to go through that shit again just to have someone tell me what I already know, that I’m paranoid.”

“Follow carefully, this is a pivotal moment. ‘I think, to an extent, you may be right. I think you introspectively and retrospectively witness your own life, and view it as some sort of elaborate experiment. Perhaps when you subconsciously witness yourself you take on the position of the experimenter.'”

“I think, to an extent, you may be right. I think you introspectively and retrospectively witness your own life, and view it as some sort of elaborate experiment. Perhaps when you subconsciously witness yourself you take on the position of the experimenter.”

“‘Because of that, reality is harsher for you. And maybe, bit by bit, as you switch from the experimenter to the subject, the two drag into each other, and the borders between reality and observation of reality grow thinner and dimmer.'”

“Because of that, reality is harsher for you. And maybe, bit by bit, as you switch from the experimenter to the subject, the two drag into each other, and the borders between reality and observation of reality grow thinner and dimmer.”

“‘And that’s where the paranoia comes from. You’re trying to make sense of it, but you end up running circles around your head and making a mess of things'”

“And that’s where the paranoia comes from. You’re trying to make sense of it, but you end up running circles around your head and making a mess of things.”

“Brain scan shows the subject is becoming tired.”

“That sort of makes sense… It just keeps getting worse. My whole life I feel like I’ve been falling into mental health problems… Back in elementary school I fell into this shallow pit of despair, and from there the ground gave way under me until I became the mess that I am today.”

“Let’s wrap things up for tonight. I think we’ve got some interesting data. Comfort him gently, tell him to lay his head on your leg. Help him to fall asleep.”

“Come here, sweetheart… It’s all going to be okay.”

“Run your fingers over his hair softly.”

“I love you.”

“I don’t feel like I deserve love… No matter how much I believe that you love me, there’s always at least a small part of me that will always question and doubt… I’ll never feel comfortable with it…”

“I know sweetheart… It’s okay.”

“Subject is falling asleep.”

“Stand by…”

“Subject is asleep.”

“Day six-thousand four-hundred seventy nine is complete. Good work everyone. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day, but we’ll make it through.”

Zoo 3-8-14 , 12:47 pm

I don’t know what the change in me implies, but as I watch these animals I can’t help but relate to them.  To see them exactly as humans.  Fortress of solitude.  Anti-social.  Shy.  I can see so clearly their emotions and that they simply are depressed.  But oh how much more complicated it is than that.  Evolutionarily we adapted different and we, as humans, hold ourselves as the best and strongest; and erect zoos as a crown and monument to that.  But few understand the intelligence of these animals and the stunted growth and opportunity they had in potential.
In my mind, the people are as interesting to look at as the orangutan, and the thoughts of the orangutan would be more interesting than the thoughts of the humans, as well as more of an achievement to comprehend.
They listen.  Some animals you can physically see them listening.  I would not be surprised for a second to find that they understand nearly everything we say and do, possibly better than we do.  And I think they know that they are discriminated against worse than any other race in existence.
Watching them move and live, it becomes easy to see a common ancestor in us all.  God could be that ancestor.
I could sit and watch the otters all day.  Their webbed claws intrigue me, but their personalities are amazing.  They are the only animals I’ve found so far today that don’t look depressed when they move.  They have a purpose when they move and they stay together.  I love that they stay together.
Their living space is also more real in the zoo, which for so many others will alter their evolution, creating a zoo bread of the species.
How I’m sure they long for privacy and quiet on their side of the glass.  How I wish to see how they do, and not through the distortion of the glass.  I wonder how they look at us, so many variations of the same species, if they notices how we do, the lesbians holding hands, or the woman with the skin disorder, the Hispanic man, or the Scottish accent.  I wonder how distorted we appear from their side of the glass.
‘Their side of the glass.’  I like that.  I like them.  I like the cleverness of humans in their conceited way.  It’s funny to me.
I think the missing link has been staring us in the face for a long time.  All narrowed down by the jaw, testament to that our mouths form identity by what they do and say.  What they do with their mouths has configured every species who has one.  More than any it has defined us.  And in defining, and by defining, we have further defined.

I don’t know who the woman is with the skin disorder, but I want to tell her she is beautiful because she genuinely is.  How she moves her hands and looks with her eyes.  Her words and her gentleness and kindness.  Physically and morally she is beautiful, and I think, much like these animals, that she is used to people judging her as otherwise.  People staring, treating her as a spectacle whilst they gather “Intelligence” in information, but never truly understand.
What’s worse, in our twisted perspective, is that we don’t judge the beautiful people the same as those we deem to be otherwise.  To be sure, we do in fact judge them.  I am seeing today, however, beauty and physical attraction to everyone I see.
Physically I have been drawn towards so many, and for things I couldn’t before have identified as such a beautiful type of thing.  Almost every time it was facial expressions; little things that show me they’re living.  Living is a beautiful, sexy thing.

What’s struck me here are the looks of contemplation from the primates, and the friendly, playful childishness of many animals in off moments, most of them human.
I often found a perspective of respect to know the gender of an animal when addressing it.  I can appreciate, though, how we look at the abilities of animals in the absence of discretion to gender.

Birds strike me as inquisitive.  If to kill a bird is sin, then to cage one is something far worse.

The wise old turtle’s eyes look sad, full of tears.  He moved his massive body closer to the female and rested his head on her.  She had slept lonely, but he came and cuddled with her like we do.

Suddenly I feel lonely.  Still happy, but I’ve found recognition that I am alone, somehow wanting to have someone with me.  I envy the large turtle.  He is old and sad, but he has someone to cuddle with.

Fade

Green is full of forgotten memories
Her voice floating alone in the trees
Green was the gaze of her knowing eye
The feeling of rain giving up to clear sky
Green was her dress the day that we met
The smell of her hair the day that she left

And though she’s gone
I will move on
Just play this charade
Until it all fades

Brown was soft and clear, her skin
Beckoning calling,
Drawing me in
Brown was the kiss
Should never have been

And now she’s gone
I can’t move on
But I’ll play this charade
Surely it will fade

Black were my eyes
And Black were her lies
Trapped in Black curls of hair
Her hands were my Black snare
And now I’m gone
I must move on
Not play this charade
I just want to fade