am I merely caught

- stuck -

longing to see

sights that capture me

yet I’ve become the hermit

trapped in my house

is it fear that keeps me here?

fear that I will once again

find friends that I love

that are no friends at all

instead I protect myself

within a place that’s safe

but instead of enjoying

flowers I grew myself

I twiddle my thumbs

scrolling the endless loop

trying to not feel empty

I crave the connection

and the motivation

spurned by something

other than my work ethic

but I’m too scared

to step outside

the safety of these walls

I quiet my soul’s call

numb the feelings as they drawl

stand up, try not to fall

do we feel this one and all?

empty caverns, feeling small

loneliness is what befalls

yet we still try to stand so tall

no, we’re fine.

not lonely at all.

the victim in a horror movie

is always the girl

pretty

long brown hair

perfect body

boyfriend who is crazy about her

but she's always a little dumb

and it comes back around to get her

in the form of a knife

or a guy

who just can't control himself

can he?

her pretty blue eyes

pierced with the white and red

of a gory death

yet i sit back and laugh at her

i wonder why

i never root for the good guys

His eyes shifted quickly, trying not to draw attention to his underlying intentions. A hand full of spades with more on the table. He was staring at a flush and he felt confident he wasn't going to dig himself into a hole this time. He took a sip of his watered-down whiskey and hoped he hadn't given himself away. He was a man that had been taught composure in the heat of a moment. His roots stretched back to the farm of the strong handed men before him. Hardy and tough. Home-grown. An apple that didn't fall far from the tree of fruit.

It all came down to this moment. Sweat ran across his forehead as the stakes increased. Should he pick up his winnings and call it a night? Or does the seed of the fire inside him burn too deep for quitting? After all he has been burned before.

The other men at the table appear calm and all too comfortable with their hoes sitting close by. Side pieces that accompanied them each Thursday night in the basement of the alley bar. He knew better than engaging in the infidelity game, poker was already challenging his marriage enough. 'Till death do us part.' He reminded himself regularly.

As he threw his last chunk of savings onto the table, he knew he was risking it all. But all he could see was what could be, a moment flowering with attainment. "All in." He said without a quiver in his voice. The river card was next. The fate of his future all in one card of the 52 in a deck.

His eyes widened and he didn't even realize he was holding his breath.

A heart hit the table. And his heart hit the floor.

Is it possible to predict the future? Chance is the likelihood of occurrence within a context. The more a context is explained or imagined, the more accurate we can be about the actual result. At what point is chance truly 100%, I wonder.

That context can be limited to an amount of time, space, content, and variables.

A simple example: A coin generally has a 50/50 chance of landing on either face.

Variables affect the actual result: there is a third surface to the coin which can be considered, the rim. Yes, it is POSSIBLE for a coin to land on the rim.

"What if the coin is being slammed down atop the hand after being flipped?" This introduces a new context to the coin being flipped. The tension of the thumb against the finger before the flip, the force at which the thumb hits the coin, where the thumb hits the coin, the amount of time which the coin is allowed to be suspended in the air, any wind in the air(caused by any number of factors weather, nearby bodies of water, etc), gravitational force in the area(affected by elevation at least)and so much more. The forces and variables influencing the coin as it flips is incredible. In the end, do most of them matter- probably not past the force of the thumb, where the thumb hit on the coin surface and time suspended in the air. Likely not. So is it necessary to define every single variable in the context? Only if the goal is to be 100% accurate. Is it possible to be truly 100% accurate? Possibly not- that would require some feat of defining infinity, would it not?

They closed the place I attended first and second grade. It’s a police department now, teachers and students scattered throughout the district. The chief invited me to attend training, so I drove down.

Most of it I've seen before, but this was different, being in a place where I once stood no taller than the blackboard. They lectured on fatal funnels and storming down hallways before we practiced controlled pairs while role players showered us with paintballs.

I wasn’t hit. I shot until the bolt locked back, magazine empty. My rain of Simunitions stained roleplayers head to toe in blue.

I felt no joy in victory. It’s a fight we've already lost.

Google "school fire.” Flames aren’t in the results.

After, I ignored warnings clouding my mind. Dazed, I drove to the place we used to live. I knew memories may flood in and pressure could build behind my eyes; tears would threaten me with heartache and a migraine.

Yet, I went.

I found the tiny aluminum box, the first home I knew. The street that took me there was shorter than it should have been.

Maybe nostalgia had nothing to do with my heart thundering and hands shaking. It's possible that neighborhood roads had grown tiny and insignificant because the asphalt cracked and contracted. Perhaps yards had shrunk to barely larger than the living rooms of singlewides standing feet apart from one another.

Tears never stained my beard with salty pieces of a past nowhere near forgotten. In the end, the only things that dropped were expectations.

Maybe hopes.

It's not that I'm so much bigger than that place, but growing up sometimes means getting out . . . and my work means we live in a world where some people never get to grow up at all.

They say April is the cruelest month.

Changes in the air but a sense of despair funnel through the minds of some.

Indecisiveness cloud clarity, a scattered brain with a shower of untamed thoughts thunder loudly throughout the subconscious.

A bolt of awakening reverberating, rippling causing a flood of warning to the chaos storm of life.

On the horizon with it's threat of doom, the rain of reality causes a drop.

The pressure is on.

There is no revenge, when I'm over you. I am the alpha and the omega. When the voice of an angry god is heard, the rabid beasts quiver, and run like scared sheep or flop over like goats. I'm a tornado in and out of my mind. I'm not for everyone, but I can have whoever, and whatever I want. Commoners are no longer my preferred playful prey--amusing me requires more than a waltz in the dark. My submission is a gift, but it comes with a warning: I bore easily, so don't be confused. There really is no "nice" person playing. Rejoice is always in my beginnings, and in my happy endings.

I think the best way to move on from a person is to be truthful. And I mean really, deeply truthful. About everything. And accepting of every feeling and thought that comes with it. Listen to the opinions of the very depth of you because your heart will never lie to you. Let this be your guide. Let it burn and soothe you.

I haven't cared about too many people in my life, although I feel inclined to disagree even as I say this. I guess I'm talking about the kind of care that pushes me to actually want a conversation with them, to remember their birthdays, make them playlists and fantasise about being with them forever and other such sappy shit. Those feelings are different for every person but hey, whether platonic or romantic or somewhere in between, this stuff just sort of... Happens. If we could control it better, we'd choose people who were absolutely perfect, control things to the very limit so we know all will be well. At least, that's what I do.

But I've found that at the end of the day, we're all human. We don't know a goddamn thing about a goddamn thing. We pretend we do. Or we look to society and tell ourselves that they must surely have the answer. But no one has a full idea of what they're doing, that's how it was always meant to be.

So when you meet someone. And you give them your heart and for whatever reason, you receive it back in itty little pieces... Allow yourself to grieve what you thought would be your "it". Your special "we'll be together forever and everything will be okay" type of "it" that many of us dream of. Then... Get honest.

And I mean really, dirty-down honest. All those things about them that you never wanted to face because you loved them so much that it didn't matter. That's what the unconditional part of true love means, right? Having conditions is healthy, by the way or we'd all be getting married within weeks of knowing each other or blindly choosing the abusive, red flag sort. We want to truly know the person. And you want them to know you. But things will never be as lovely as they seemed, looking back. And that's what will help you move on.

Accepting that there was good and there was bad. Looking at it genuinely, no judgement. Listening to your own emotions, honouring your feelings. If you want to stop searching for a partner for a while, go ahead. If you want to cut your hair for the fun of it or cry or write a silly song or poem about them or dance out your anger with rock music, be my guest. Just make sure to listen to how your soul feels. The pain will lessen with time. That's one of the few good things time brings with it. Nothing stays the same which sucks for the nicer stuff but is really, really great news when it comes to the shitty parts.

Take some deep breaths. Take some you time. No one knows you better than you do. No one can comfort you or help you heal better, not the greatest Zen masters or psychologists in the world. As a quote by some dude named Robert Tew goes; "trust yourself. You've survived a lot and you'll survive whatever's coming". We all will. Just gotta... Believe it's true, I suppose.

And that's a wrap! Mind you I've never actually been in a relationship myself, don't know if that's surprising or not to each reader but I've gone through "breakups" of my own. The heartwrenching kind that feel too romantic to be platonic and vice versa. That's where the word alterous comes in, I can't think of a better way to describe it for the life of me.

Focus on yourself. You live in your head and everyone else lives in theirs. What goes on in there matters. You matter. You're the most important person you'll ever have in your life because you are gonna be tied to you forever. You will never know anyone more and no one could ever know you more, that make sense? Just gotta give yourself the space to feel it all out... Maybe some day, some piece of this maddening existence will make sense. Maybe some day.