having dealt with the
of time for so long,
having time is like
a new revelation.
i find myself looking for
to satisfy my hunger for excitement;
during quiet moments when all i hear is
old pipes running,
and food digesting.
the urge to initiate
conversation and rekindle
the rush in me has diminished–
no longer a slave
time can now wait for me.
i run so much that i miss out on touch.
oftentimes, i brush past shoulders of those i know
as to not fully forget
what it feels like when flesh connects.
my sense memory is not enough
to carry me from one day to the next anymore.
my proprioception blinds my perception
so that my sixth sense seeks love by senselessly banging
on unanswered doors
and as a result, my affection bank is overdrawn–
i’m so poor;
surrounded by people,
but i’m so lonely;
loved by many,
but i just need someone to hold me,
to reteach me the meaning of skin meeting skin,
to turn my stone heart and body back
to beating warmth: soft, slow, and genuine.
i want to move with purpose
rather than sprint from here to there,
ignoring the simplicity of something as simple
as touch to let me know i’m still here
and that somebody cares.
i thought this stress was
but it seems to be
busting into the seams of my skin
i thought it packed a bag and traveled
but today i question if it ever left.
this feels like death
or maybe just illness to the happiness
that i had so much missed
because i was depressed.
but i won’t allow this stress
to control me.
love is so much more
so much stronger,
so i’ll dwell in houses of affection
until my heart no longer hurts,
til my body no longer rejects
foreign objects to which i’m familiar,
til there comes a time when God
heals the wounds,
the frustration, the hurt,
wiping away my tears,
calming my fears,
and whispering in my ear
that stress no longer lives
i want love in such a strong way
that i find it hard to be happy
for people who are in love,
i scoff at public displays
of affection, protest
and my overwhelming desire for it
inevitably turns to scorn.
love is an emotion and action
with the power to incite other actions and feelings:
envy, jealously, depression, joy, and hate
and i wonder if it is my fate
to be without love for this long,
to only express and feel it from
family, close friends, and slow songs.
it’s not enough–where is my lover?
where is that amazing brother
who will sweep me off of my feet?
my toes are tired from staying on the ground,
my heart is bored from regular beats.
my fantasies have even gone on vacation because
they’re tired of working so hard at chasing
my dreams that are so far from reality.
i am tired
and sometimes hopeless
but still wanting,
still desiring that loaded four-letter word,
the overused and abused three-letter phrase,
the intoxicated infatuation-feeling state
that is so different from the life i am living now.
i await the date and time when i will no longer
think of love and be angry,
when i will think of it and smile because it will no longer be a mere
thought or musing,
something intangible, hurtful, and confusing
but a part