Was that you?

Something strange happened to me last night...I sneaked out a back window in my mind into the waiting arms of a lover cloaked with dark of midnight. We kissed deliciously while our skins rubbed and reacquainted. We rushed into each other in a very slow and calculated way so as not to miss a beat. Our hands found places familiar but not visited for a long wasted time. We made love and we kept our souls out of it...they just slumbered tucked away comfortable and safe.
That scent of completion lingered in the air well into the night and the silence draped us softly.

Sometimes, I guess, you just need to sneak out, throw caution to the wind, leave your painful memories behind and indulge your needs.

Thanks Smokey...

would you remember my face again

Would you remember me
if you saw my face again?
Like the night we were both
in orbit
drinking time away?

Sitting side by side
my friend and I,
She hushed my laugh,
and whispering your name
she leaned back
that I might see you sitting there,
drinking away pain.
I sipped my vodka
not really impressed,
then I looked
at you again.

Your glass was empty,
your soul on its last drop,
so I sent you a refill
for your glass that is.
Hugged your soul
from afar.

My gesture,
probably one of many
on your road to success.

You barely sipped your nectar,
but standing up you smiled and waved.
I bowed my head to you
and hugged your soul again...
and again.

What's wrong with this picture?

Wheezing and trying to hold onto valuable strands of oxygen, I walk into an emergency room hoping to increase my air intake. Now, if you knew me, you'd know that this, in itself, is a test in courage...okay the truth, it's completely unavoidable for me since I couldn't breathe properly. I am a germaphobe. Hospitals and me don't go well together. Panic sets in, I scan the waiting area like the "Terminator" and proceed cautiously where I may be lead with the apprehension of someone destined for the guillotine. I touch nothing, lean against nothing and suffer through blood pressure meters chanting mantras in my head.
The thing about asthmatics is fighting to breathe is considered reason good enough to be rushed in immediately into any available bed for quick attention. So there I am, sitting on a gurney, again scanning for any visible signs of acrobatic microscopic enemy warriors laying in wait for my arrival. Yeah, I know, how could I possibly detect such intruders...I look for unavoidable signs...dust, spills, tissues or gauzes not completely disposed off, trays that don't shine bright enough. I have come to the conclusion that I enter their territory and all I can do is remove myself as soon as humanly possible. Which is why I have refused admittance into hospital facilities quicker than they can finish their diagnosis.
However, this time around, and trust me I do not make it a habit of frequenting these establishment, I was well enough to receive a nebulizer treatment (as opposed to getting shot up with adrenaline...boy that's a totally different story). "Okay, good," I whisper to myself, "Out of here soon." And here comes Chad, treatment provider, packaged accessories and medicine in hand. He proceeds to lean into me with a practiced sense of accomplishment at his job. I, of course, lean away looking for personal air space, but not soon enough. The smell of cigarettes overwhelmed me...it was his breath, his unusually shiny ringlets draping his face, his clothes; his entire persona oozed smoke! My hand involuntarily came up to my face, protecting my lungs from further assault. It should be a law that if you are in the business of coming in contact with people whose lives depend on being administer oxygen, breathing treatments or the like, they should have to change into protective gear, wear masks or be vacuumed, hosed down...well you get my drift.
I'm still wheezing, my chest burns every time I cough but I've decided that the only way I will go back is with my own mask, rubber gloves and with the recently acquired skill of administering breathing treatments as per the state of Florida...I love internet resources.

Loneliness

There seems to be a general consensus amongst the excluded, forgotten or simply "just not seen" that loneliness is a "bad" thing. Hell, for a while there myself I agreed. For all those of you who have been denied this condemning affliction, for you, I will explain.

Loneliness is like falling down from a mountain top, face first with blinding rain, scourging sun and numbing coldness...each taking turns leading you down through shards of glass, rolling rocks and needle like spines protruding from beneath as you slip, stumble... grab onto thin air. You lose your sense of direction every time you blink eyes swollen from spent tears. Imagine not being able to speak your words drowned by the endless thoughts and ideas of feeling unloved, unwanted. Scars become permanent. The lines around your eyes war medals for all to see...if only they would care to look.
However, there is light ahead. You are stronger than you think...yes you are. I should know, I surprised myself. And I've always been pretty damn strong. Just remember simple truths: If it's a little bit of mud get a facial...a lot of mud do a complete body treatment. Pick up some of those rocks and throw them (no, not at anyone...yes it sounds good to me too, but stay with me here), kick some together and create a ledge. Shards of glass can cut through binding pain and wearable accessories can be put together with sturdy spines.
I don't have your answers...I barely have my own, but the truth about loneliness is that if you introduce yourself to it the outcome of the relationship is up to you. Chose the depth of your intimacy with care and know that you can always choose away from it.