Too many dimensions to my being.
What the fuck am I?
An entirely new human each and every day .
Through all these differences, I scan with a critical eye,
magnifying, poring over these jumps.
what remains the same?
Plutonium.
Yet another dimension to my being,
This is the part of myself that I’ve oft fought…
this part of myself without illusion.
sees emptiness in all things
solitary.
preferring aloneness to frivol
only wanting what is real.
that part of myself that has already died.
antisocial by nature
without trust
but
once that heart opens
it loves for lifetimes
so prone to crushing despair
more alone at a party
then in solitude with the sea
oh, that darkness
why do I find truth there?
like I can end the masquerade
of gaiety
when will I find the person
whose hand will clasp mine in those depths
the heart of the other
being the only light we need.
I need aloneness
for I’ve met me more than anyone else has met me.
I only want what is meaningful.
I only want what is with depth.
If I can find that truth
with another soul,
then fine —
then lovely —
but I’d sooner trade company
than realness.
grant me those with substance.
grant me those who stick around when the going gets tough.
grant me those unafraid of those depths.
grant me those unafraid of the dark.
grant me the brave,
with light of soul,
spirit,
and heart,
so grand,
that they can play with childlike glee
in the abominable depths of the Earth
those who can love the monsters residing therein.
I want love with roots
that extend into Hell,
because I know that,
only then,
can its branches reach the heavens.
All actions
have an equal and opposite reaction
therefore,
the heights your love is capable of,
is determined only by the depths it can brave.
…
I walk through the halls of my being,
checking the rooms of this dim corridor.
I open a door I did not know was there
further along the ecliptic
of my consciousness
than I knew I could venture.
an icy chill assaults my senses immediately
why are there winds here?
I see a boy
huddled in the corner.
dark hair
pale skin
head between his knees.
I gasp,
catching his attention.
he looks up instantly
tears streaming down
pooling above his upper lip
his lips…
why are they blue?
the miasma of this room
his despair is concentrated
to a magnitude
I knew not possible
he says nothing but it is deafening
and yet in his eyes
what is it I see?
…
a heat in them
amidst this hidden arctic
he says nothing but still
the message is deafening
and I intuitively understand
that his spirit possesses a heat
a will
a courage
that even this cold
phases him not
there is power here
there is…
somehow
immense
intense
agonizing
beautiful love.
…
I sit next to him.
I take his hand.
He is stunned,
but shortly after,
looks at me with a smile.
he rests his head on my shoulder
and we both know
we are going to be okay.
we are going to be okay
no matter how dark it gets
no matter how cold
here,
we can not just survive
we can thrive
…
I look and see
an aura encasing him
taking on a pale blue glow.
I watch
stunned,
mystified,
as particle after particle
photon after photon
departs
from what was formerly
his vessel.
they dress themselves
around me,
becoming golden
when they touch me
I lay back,
my eyes shut,
and some strange
enlightened
melancholic
powerful
explosive
still and certain,
composed,
intensity
fills my cup to the brim.
I let out a sigh,
look to my side,
and he is gone.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 