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Cry To MeIf you're hurting, they say "don't cry".
But they are wrong.
Not to cry is an illness, if not now, it will be.
The wet crescent of a tear shivers at the edge of your dewy lid.
It wants to escape, knowing nothing of the torrent just at its heels,
of an overarching sorrow that cannot easily be healed.
The malleable property of clothing does not let me know how absorbent it may be
at any given time, but lean into me with your tears.
I can give you my shoulder, give you me.
I am something soft to lean on.
Let the monsoon of your soul begin
let the continent of water wash the land anew
The fertile beginnings of a land free of debris
Dry, save that first tear, alone soaking the radiance of the sun.
A prism, exploding a million hues all over this fresh country.
This kingdom, is you.
Solid SilenceI am the scream in the silent movie, I am solid rage that boils like a quagmire in the sun. But there is no sun, and the moon is too scared to tread these waters.
I'm beating my fists against a wall that isn't even there, but the world is not moving. The vibrations in the air rumble like a pool of thunder in the tangible thickness.
The silence that hangs in this invisible smoke is thick enough to slice with cutlery, spreading it over infested hardtack and choking down every morsel. All the better to silence the screaming.
My eyes are full of ink, and all the world is blackness. My legs have no movement, they aren't even there. There is no telling if they have gone numb from the shock, if they have melted into some static dough, or if they have submerged into the rising muck.
Thoughts on PolyamoryIt seems to me that most people think of polyamory in terms of threesomes, of swinging. A way of sleeping around that isn't technically "cheating." A prevailing idea in the '60s counterculture was free love. Most people thought they were free, expressing an interchange of love with multiple partners. But it wasn't. It was slutting around without consequences. But at least everyone was equal, and diverging from the old way. In my mind, polyamory isn't openly getting with as many people as you want at a time.
It's not speed-dating. There are those who have serial marriages, serial daters. They are with someone for a few weeks, a few months, and then move on. There is no growth in the relationship, and as soon as the partner doesn't meet your conditions anymore, you move on. You are done with them. This kind of carousel relationship practice fall short of what polyamory should be by miles.
To get to the pinnacle of a polyamorous lifes
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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