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make denim cry & face turns blue




struggling to meet people where i need them to meet me. connections blur as quick as one can compensate for an aperture hiccup. was there ever a desire for people to exchange a visceral dialogue via mind, body, and soul? or were we destined to be mechanical robots assigned one duty; to retain as much material property in order to build a bullshit status man denoted upon constructing a perfect society? those who argue technology and/or social media are the reasons for humans losing their humanly traction are desperate for a worry-free solution. easy is good. easy is easy. water the wrong roots and you will go thirsty. it is how you are consuming society's sermon that worries people like me. it becomes religious… the way we self-destruct.


dating incites an impetus demand to fill a void we must to connect with someone. we rely on a row of tequila shots at a loud bar to extend the conversation when in all actuality you can't really hear my voice, can you? just yours. that was the plan, wasn't it? shot therapy. salud.


typically, it is an unfulfilled expectation one wrestles within their inner psyche. broken. some more than others. in those crevices live their unmet needs. upon witnessing this, i opted to take a tall order in sobriety. needed a break from people. migrated into a fresh space where i had to fill my own crevices. accountability. self. we were bedfellows for a year-ish. by all means, it was an inextricable mission. some nights there was no real solution. just a migraine. swollen salted eyelids. heartache. cuddles with my cat. few nights offered an out of body connection to source energy. rush of self-love electricity pulsating within thin veins. imagine feeling no hesitation, no doubt, no fear... just you. those nights were rare at first, but now serve me frequently. i was stoked. a year and half of healing should be more than enough time to rehabilitate with the greater population.


i read somewhere that when something is done well, the process behind it is largely invisible. people love confident, strong, self-aware people. negligent to speculate this came without much effort on our parts. frowning focus meets hungry eyes. they want to see themselves in you without doing the work. this adoption that there is only one way of understanding the complexity of things empties humanity of its values.


to my brothers, sisters, and non-binaries who've been sleeping with self-accountability, is this not what we feel?


pointing fingers gets you nowhere. and by no means are we doing that here. it's disappointing when we are not received in the way we deserve. this happened when i ventured away from home base. though i invested time and energy into filling my own crevices without relying on others, it was overlooked. overlooked because i was surrounding myself with the wrong people. people who wanted more than they could invest in themselves. not because they were horrible people. they were drinking society's kool-aid. fifty pitchers in. diabetic and thirsty.


ego set aside, it is the process one goes through to fill such crevices. it is a constant work in progress. attachment equates to destruction if not managed. i am not attached to the process like i was before. felt entitled because i had put in the work. it was the attachment that led to disappointment. which in some respects is worse than sadness. i had to make peace with the notion that people cannot receive me because they are not receiving themselves. those who are able to recognize the process deserve my time. consideration. energy. spirituality. foreplay. sensuality. laughs. moans. conversations. the whole fucking spectrum. i get to choose.


p.l.h,

a




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