Between My Reality, Stay.

Past midnight, past one
makes me feel you
like I should feel you
your skin
feverish
yet it doesn't sear me
oh, love-mark me anyway.

If this is where
I will find you

Only here.

Then quick now
lover, brand me.

Before daylight loses me.

You have no memory there
within quick pecks
over coffee mugs
and calls
to let me know
that tonight is a couple of beers
and pool with the boys.

Don't wait up.

TWINGE

Your betrayal stung

for the span of the moment

I remembered you.

When You Become Me/ Principessa Avila

Principessa Avila

Time will

slowly

strip away

your succulent bloom

Experience will

carefully

dull your

callous, sudden pronouncements

Truth will

meticulously

wear down

your youthful superiority

Until

that time that she

looks

at you

as you now look at me

No More Than Divided

When does
he, my need
become you?

When do
you, my desire
become him?

When will my head
transform
into my heart?

And my passion
morph
into sense?

When do
his strong promises
become
your sweet words?

When does
your flattery become
his truth?

I must
need the safeness
of his arms
I must
crave the taste
of your lips

I cannot submit.
I cannot let go.

Perfect existence
does not lay
in the middle
but out-of-reach at
both ends

No Better Motivator Than Guilt

Happy New Year to all!

No resolutions-- I absolutely refuse to submit to making a list of things to accomplish this year, only to see none of them come to fruition.

I think making resolutions originated as well-meaning intentions (much like those well-meaning relatives who believe that a high-paying job, ten less pounds and a wedding band on one's finger are ingredients for happiness). They do have noble purpose, I suppose, but the positive motivation is misguided. The poor sap, the maker of the resolution, the recipient of the good will-- he (or she) finds himself in a deeper, muddier bog, feeling like they failed even worse than if they had left well-enough alone.

No, no resolutions for me. For certain though I will make a list instead of goals I would like to reach, but not anything I would cross-my-heart-promise to make good on.

Be specific, set the bar high, and do as much as can be done. Reassess and readjust. No room for failure, simply infinite space to expand and tailor the path to exactly where you want to be.

That said, I only have my eye on one prize this year. Any significant plans or moves I make will be in the direction of benefitting my writing. So what I've done so far is made a mental list of what I would like to achieve, and what I can potentially do, tiny step by tiny step, to achieve it.

Oh... did I mention anywhere in this spiel about the power of guilt?

Yes, I didn't promise myself that I would get right on a rigid writing schedule, come the turn of the year. What I did do was say that I would begin formulating my plan for successful and productive writing strategy when January rolled around.

I certainly didn't want to push myself and resent having to do something which would be a pleasure to me otherwise. I was going to take it easily, pace myself.

Of course, I didn't anticipate that seeing someone else begin their writing year in a more concrete way would egg me on to get in here and write something.

What a revelation: the keys to this thing called the New Years's Resolution is a little mix of competitive spirit and guilt.

Now what was all this talk of gentle self-motivation?