Lasers, Quiet Time & What to Do

A beautiful Columbian woman precisely executes the injection of Lidocaine (anesthetic) into my neck about 35 or 40 times. Maybe more. My body is metabolizing it so fast she tries ice. The ice burns. She soaks a cloth in alcohol and puts it near my face. It tastes like shit and I'm moving into a state of helplessness. I'm just lying there, twitching, cotton balls in my ears and blinders on my eyes. Twitching like I'm on LSD. She talks sweetly; she's so kind and understanding. She tells me football players come in with tiny tattoos and tears roll down their face. She's probably just telling me this for empathy's sake. The laser clacks like a low-caliber rifle directly into my ear. I can still feel it. Fuck it. Just deal with it.

I guess I fell asleep. I woke up and she told me we were 90% finished. She starts again, I twitch some more; deep breaths are my truest friend.

It's over and the bandage is on. I nearly fall off the table from the anesthetics. All I can think about is what my life was like when I decided to get a tattoo on my neck. I was so proud of it, but nevertheless, it just wasn't me. I circumnavigated my gentle personality and let this other person in. Feeling so small, I realized the rage welling up inside of me was too much to bear. Much like the laser was pain, so was the self-rejection an excruciating burn of white-hot heat. Much like the Lidocaine did its best to numb the laser, so did chemical substances do theirs to wipe away my malice and depression.

That's all really personal, but it's relevant. I'm at this place in my life where I need to remove myself from social networking (including this, I suppose) and seek enlistment in a quieter life, far removed from the pressures of drama and paranoia. I seek a little bit of sympathy, but more than anything, I seek acceptance and inclusion. In the worst way, I stumbled upon love recently. That paranoia has left me suffering; the circumstances are by no means ideal. I see a best friend and a lover in her, which is ironic. Never before have I felt like my insides are about to explode because of all the information and emotion I inhale when I'm with her. Never before have I wanted to trust someone so badly, but don't want to ask questions because I don't want to scare her away.

TMI, TMI, how you get me every time. Point is, I'm in severe pain right now. The noise of the train off in the distance is overwhelming. Knowing I have to sleep on one side for three nights is overwhelming. Being uncertain about whether or not I will ever have the opportunity, if it gets to this point, to tell this girl I love her and I want to run away with her, is overwhelming. Far, far away. I ran out of marijuana. I can't fucking believe it. Of all the times to be unable to get stoned. Nearly broke and weedless. I shall overcome.

I shall overcome.

There have been a couple inspirational lyrics that are carrying me through right now. I'd like to share them with you:

The first is from a song by Islands called "Life In Jail."

Besides, there's nothing to live for unless you live a little more like you're going to die.

This is remarkably challenging and comforting all at once. I think sometimes that my music will fail completely, leaving me without motivation or a cause. But the truth is, I can't sum it up any better. No holds barred.

The second is from a song by Girls called "Heartbreaker."

Because when I said that I loved you, honey

I knew it from the very start.

Because when I said that I loved you, honey

I knew that you would break my heart.

The only reason I appreciate this is because it makes me understand that preparing for the very worst is pointless, complete bullshit, a worthless waste of time. Hearing those words makes me understand that it's okay to feel so intensely for someone. You never know...it might end there. No need for that second lyric.

Thanks for reading to here. Or skimming to here. Either one. It's great.

L,

JK

Breath & Bones

This was the first song I consciously wrote (and liked enough to record) in an effort to combine all of these experiences I had had in past relationships into this one person for whom the song was written. In that same vein, I address the person I had been in those relationships.

Listen to it here.

Love,

jk

Joyful Comets to be Witness Pts. I, II & III

I.

Two friends, hand in hand,
walk amidst radiant sunlight;
the man's tan, rough hands,
suggest a good work ethic.
Her demeanor, leaning into him,
are the pace of a careful home maker.

Her voice only shakes when
he makes love to her.
He never shakes her,
only shaking when,
in a loving joke,
she turns the shower
to cold.

Imagine, clear as sky,
her solemnly swearing kisses;
he imagines, head in sky,
of the future blisses.
She walks by me, casting light,
a stranger smiled upon me with mother's love.

We cannot be certain
of anything.
But upon analysis,
they are everything.

Once more do I presume,
sitting in sailboat sunlight;
a homeless man, blinding sweat riding,
is suited for another world.
Furthermore, I must ask,
how many worlds are there?

Of all the sandy kingdoms,
I wonder to which I belong;
do you live there too?
The wonders of said sandy kingdoms,
only in their glory when
there is revelation,
and an inhabitant
is shown them.

In consciousness, as if through mist,
they explore their world;
joys sufficient, perhaps not to you,
are gifted unto them.
In a flash, like shooting stars,
they are in heaven.

Our skies are only as pitch
during hell or earth.
Either may be illuminated
like a clear sign
when in loving adornment,
we are given joyful light
with hurried sentiment.

Some of us do, in a whirl,
rush through our kingdom.
Sporting sunglasses, we fail to see
these flashes or wonders.
Saving face, we turn around,
and the negatives are in the horizon.

II.

"Move on, move along,"
shouts another traveler.
He beckons me forward;
I try to see the picture of past faster.


This person had wandered the life lands,
between kingdoms spending much time.
Urging me on, "remove your blinders,
your comets were bursting in the sky!

"We all saw, even tried to warn you
of your condition.
We didn't even know, even understand,
the position you were in."

Much like last time, I
was reminded of a situation such as this.
With a shrug and a nod, I
don't remember, but listen that he might
have the key to bliss.

III.

I didn't move
any faster.
I sat there
for awhile.

But sense was
given me.
With slow pace I
moved along.

Little did I know of light,
only of deception and dark.
But I did stare up head,
my feet now wearing blinders,
my eyes taking marks.

We cannot be certain
of anything.
But I reviewed notations;
this is everything.

We cannot be certain
of anything.
But I have seen the stars;
they have been everywhere.

I have seen much dark,
only glimpsing into light.
But I have been given glasses,
and a blanket, lying on my back,
staring into sky's night.

I will treasure each hour,
under canopy of backlight.
And with each oceanic sky,
I will find you in your kingdom,
that may lie together under bright night.

Two Poems

Untitled

I begin,
in 4/4,
with preliminary
justification.
I need asylum.

Insanity,
rest assured,
is becoming
reality.
I need to be freed.

I laugh and cry
in alternate timing
switch
from talking to miming
to myself.
I pace the floors in parallel.

Never before
have I
been so disarmed
at such an alarming pace.
I am not cut out for this world.

I step in and I step out,
doorbell rings,
smoking cigarettes
staring at your picket fence
from two blocks away.
I need evaluation.


Could Be, Is

I look to you for an answer;
seldom will I try and hide my pride.
Far inside me is buried a love for you;
to be indifferent I would have to deny
the
questions with tissues between my knees,
but quietly I'm retracing my steps.
Your beauty do I stand and proclaim to windows;
"I am only a man," I confess.

Which one of us
more tortured
moves forward?

To which loves of ours,
by design
will we resign?

I choose to walk away from the cage;
I spit at the notions and rules of our kind.
Which man is perfect to your mind's eye?
Or which man will love you for all time, undying?
It isn't
a burden of empirical bliss;
for to be mine is freedom.
This heart is for you to kiss.
It could be, it is.

Which one of us,
with humble stance,
extends the first hand?

Let it be the both of us,
in darkest night
take to flight.

- present [thoughts interrupted by thunder]

hardly progressive storms
pause
long enough for a day. it'll
cost
you a headache as collateral
for the bright noons you laid to waste.

one after another,
weeks
of suggestive archetypes. my
sleek
seduction of you people
is neither civil nor twisted nor right.

sudden dashboards pass porches,
feet propped in implicative status;
their forward glances careless,
my placement insisting syringes.

at least it's not a quip,
for my part.
it was hit for hit; one year
ago was "a start."

sudden dashboards pass blindly,
my feet propped on porch's railing;
it couldn't be agonizing for me,
my situation corrected for benefit.

everybody's writing about whiskey

burning and red,
this whiskey's
still sweeter than you.

you climb into bed,
this whiskey
would die for me too.

that thing you said,
this whiskey's
my penance in a suit.

choked up and red,
this whiskey's
still much nicer than you.


--

i've been spending my time with bourbon and it inspired me enough to excuse my consumption.

She-Haul

I moved to rhythm
of hearts sinking.
Each revels in my
curses still ringing.

Bliss treats the
Duchess to a bath
fit for Radio.

I tried for loss;
each cried, "Sabotage!"
But I didn't lose you
in the fights
I fought.