The absence of touch is killing me. I am mostly flesh and blood. I am human. And with the absence of touch I think too much. I am weary of thinking. Awake sometimes in the middle of the night, the thoughts consume like fire in a bright white heat.

I panicked when I awoke and you weren't there. I like you and too much.

The absence of touch is killing me.

In the night resides the quiet swelling
Of silence on breathless tongues and smiles
Smiles that light the midnight sky
Streaked from side to side with neon glow
With this the fullness of languid laughter crying
taught and sadness waning comes to naught.
And I feed my soul with the knowing
Of fingers grazing stubbled cheeks
And arms wrapped around bare arms sleek.

The storm comes for me and I let it.

Never say never.
Pity those who never know
Who never try and never give.
Pity the soul flat unscarred,
Never bleeding tears.

My brother is dead and I am alive.

"Hush love", comes the dying sweetness on parched blue skin.

I blush at smiles and worry. That that is between us simple. I recognize the old soul like a mirror to my heart. I admire him though he may see it not. It is the need that in me lives.

I am happy in this time and place. “Zen, baby, Zen", says Drunken Monkey to Double J.

It took me years to raise myself from scratch, even longer to learn to articulate. I don’t know that I’m quite done with either, but I did it. I did it. M- says I keep a distance and yet he also says I fall too easy. It’s my perception of things, managing my emotions, that creates a distance. It’s my innate need to care for people, for someone that keeps me falling. I am afraid of losing myself when it took so long to find me, but I’m even more afraid never to care, never to love. J- says breath, just stop and breath. But I've been thinking of God and Robert and Death lately and my chest feels constricted. Last night the thoughts finally brought a smile and I realized B- was a part of that smile. Gentility and grace have not come easy but were hard earned and often waiver.

When I was a child
I cried
Deeply into the night
Your face
Came to me
Sweet and softly
Your voice wooed me.
On a pale horse you came.

And we were an odd group, those boys and I, but we were friends none the less.

Friends on the street and I bleed my heart gone dry in doubled over agony of despair.

Sanctuary tears slowly, neck heavy and heart bruised. The Portishead sings it’s siren’s song and her happiness wilts. The fey day came and went on the fan blowing softly. And she was content, is content with the puppy sleeping, but aching for the ultimate need.

Even sanctuary bleeds and needs
The solace and comfort of that human touch
Of body, of soul, of mind.
And the sole spirit that weeps? It is for naught.

Content with haves and have notes
And tenuous things that may come or pass.
Stillness sitting, looks about
Amidst the mire of a path unkempt,
Bliss – gone – molt into a fairy fey.
The future – out there not here – serene.
The babe a distant seed of mind.
And the here and now? Genuinely
I love lightly but at least I love.