The need was great
I did not succumb.
Desires not of the flesh
Manifest in slow form,
And reveal trueness of spirit.
Desire, passion I have known
Love I have held.
It’s about the future I will not
Await but step forth now.
Step forth now
into the purpose of being
and know thyself.
Friday, March 19, 2004
The future will unfold just as it should.
Martin! Martin! It's a good day not to be dead, and, and, I am happy.
Question me this and answer not
but ponder well in act and thought:
Is it our sole purpose to develop into a solitary entity, or to connect
with another living soul...
to love deeply yet live freely...
Say hello to Sheree, my friend, I know you're stalking me....you suck as a stalker. It was good to talk to you yester eve and Oklahoma isn't too far away....friends deep and true come along not often, don't loose me somewhere along the side of the road. *snif snif
"Why can't we give ourselves one more chance"
"why don't we give love one more chance"
"love is an old fashioned word"
"this is ourselves under pressure"
I bought flowers yesterday, Bubba, deep purple iris like those on your casket. The ones your boys took home. On the sixteenth I was in a panic: Journal entry 06/16/2004:
So I turned on all the fucking lights. I can’t remember the day he died. Today, tomorrow, or even if it’s been two or three years. But his heart stopped and then his lungs. And March nineteenth we buried him to months before his thirty-six birthday. To the date, we buried him.
Martin! Martin! It's a good day not to be dead, and, and, I am happy.
Question me this and answer not
but ponder well in act and thought:
Is it our sole purpose to develop into a solitary entity, or to connect
with another living soul...
to love deeply yet live freely...
Say hello to Sheree, my friend, I know you're stalking me....you suck as a stalker. It was good to talk to you yester eve and Oklahoma isn't too far away....friends deep and true come along not often, don't loose me somewhere along the side of the road. *snif snif
"Why can't we give ourselves one more chance"
"why don't we give love one more chance"
"love is an old fashioned word"
"this is ourselves under pressure"
I bought flowers yesterday, Bubba, deep purple iris like those on your casket. The ones your boys took home. On the sixteenth I was in a panic: Journal entry 06/16/2004:
So I turned on all the fucking lights. I can’t remember the day he died. Today, tomorrow, or even if it’s been two or three years. But his heart stopped and then his lungs. And March nineteenth we buried him to months before his thirty-six birthday. To the date, we buried him.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Tread soft the light blue crush
As not to startle or to shy.
Fall not easily this next time
But with purpose
Think the tender heart,
Future and seed in mind.
My heart
Loves deeply
And bleeds
Beautifully
Said I one January.
I saw you Sunday
Then thought of you yester morn
And again today in waking.
The quiet repose and inurgency
Startles with soft smiles.
And I am thinking with heart beating, “ah, just wait, let’s see”.
As not to startle or to shy.
Fall not easily this next time
But with purpose
Think the tender heart,
Future and seed in mind.
My heart
Loves deeply
And bleeds
Beautifully
Said I one January.
I saw you Sunday
Then thought of you yester morn
And again today in waking.
The quiet repose and inurgency
Startles with soft smiles.
And I am thinking with heart beating, “ah, just wait, let’s see”.