The Aftermath

December 1, 2017

What is an 11:11 wish worth if I don’t know if what I’m wishing for is even in the same time zone as I am.
The same country, continent, planet or even universe as this body of mine.
I know there’s other worlds. I’ve seen them and felt them and this body I have in this place and time that I am knows they exist so I’m drawn to others who are with me in other worlds.
But not this one.
I’m out of place and time and I cannot begin to find the words to describe how lonely it is on this ball of dirt spinning around this sun.
Maybe somewhere I’m happy.
But not here and not now.
Not yet.

The Last One hurt.
Whatever words I use don’t matter so much as how I felt
But then
I was found
And for a brief moment in time
Everything made sense.

Maybe I had to be all those big words for hurt because everything was simple as soon as we kissed.
And I was soothed.
The juxtaposition of how I felt before, then after, making the after…better.

Maybe I’m just a writer
Addicted to words
Saying prolific when a lot will do
Crying evisceration when it’s just a flesh wound
Seeking out magic just to have something to say
Spelling out abracadabras after the fact instead of manifesting my own destiny
But I tell you right now.
I’d burn all the old words and worlds.
Give up all my scars and stories told in their raising on my skin.
Erase everything.
Just be happy with words like content good more please yes this. HIM


But for now, every shower is a betrayal washing away what’s left of your touch from my skin.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to do sweet fuck all, except sleep so I can dream maybe.

I don’t want to get dressed I have nowhere to go, nowhere I want to be anyways.

I don’t want to be apart, see above where my atoms are missing you.

I don’t want to eat because that is an earthly thing and I don’t want to be here.

And when they buried me, they put these coins over my eyes, and I used them as bus fare to get back to Earth, just so I can look for you. That’s why sometimes, when we hold hands, ever so often, I tend to hold on a little too tight, and I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you again. Rudy Franscisco

I want so badly to be able to write like that. To express myself that way.

But I steal and quote other people’s words to match the moments and movements in my life.

I wanted so badly to just leave it as it was. Just one miraculous day. Keep ego out of it. Be grateful for it. Faith restored and all that. But even as I’m typing this. Those words make me cry. The idea of letting it all go. I try so hard to be graceful and grateful. To let them go and it’s always been the right thing to do. Young in the first is marrying his girl. Hulk is as happy as he can be. Giant found another Becky and her hair is glorious. Like a golden halo.

I don’t want to let go. I was worried about sullying things. The first fart. The first fight. Being human in front of each other. But I want that. It’s not enough to be perfect for a day. I want more. I never let myself want.

I’ve had dreams lately.
Vivid ones.
In one I was with two boys.
I was stealing kisses from one.
After some adventuring we all ended up in a hotel.
It was a magic place and I knew it.
There was a portal and they all went through.
I couldn’t get there.
The bellman saw me sitting alone in the lobby and told me I had to let go of something.
I woke up.
A few days later I met the boy. And his bestie. Stole kisses. Ended up in a real hotel room after an adventure and it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced before. It was a portal to somewhere mystical and magical because I let myself let go.

My head says he’s 22.
My heart says shake him and tell him this is the best there is It doesn’t get better. To give it a shot. Worst case we will live in bliss for a while and he’ll still be young when it’s done.
(there is always a but…)
This goes against everything that I believe and how I live. I want free will for them. I don’t covet. I just experience and hope.
Add that to the dream and…
I’m lost again
He’s in the woods right now.
I’m waiting to see what he says when he comes out.

The answer is nothing.

I have been home for a week. Feels like whatever it is between us weakens with time and distance. The opposite of that movie we watched where they were made in pairs and their gift was to find their ‘other’ and stop being magic. I was stronger with him, I am weakened without.

The withdrawal is almost unbearable. I feel hollow.

I don’t know how he feels.

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

He got drunk a week ago, went to the place we met, called me from the stairs to tell me he was coming for me.

Took it back the next day.

I understand, I do.

I always understand. I never take and rarely let myself want. Never interfere. Do no harm.

Sara says loving me is not a punishment.

I have to swallow that, want what I want.

I want to try for once instead of waiting for the next life.


I took a little journey to the unknown,
And I come back changed. I can feel it in my bones.
I fucked with forces that our eyes can’t see.
Now the darkness got a hold on me.
Oh, the darkness got a hold on me.

How long, baby, have I been away?
Oh, it feels like ages though you say it’s only days.
There ain’t language for the things I’ve seen.
And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams.
The truth is stranger than all my dreams.
Oh, the darkness got a hold on me.

I have seen what the darkness does.
Say goodbye to who I was.
I ain’t never been away so long.
Don’t look back them days are gone.
Follow me into the endless night.
I can bring your fears to life.
Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.
Meet me in the woods tonight.

The truth is stranger than my own worst dreams.
Now the darkness got a hold on me.

I have seen what the darkness does.
Say goodbye to who I was.
I ain’t never been away so long.
Don’t look back them days are gone.
Follow me into the endless night.
I can bring your fears to life.
Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.
Meet me in the woods tonight.

Lords of Huron

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  • Robert Wertzler December 1, 2017 at 8:55 am

    There is a poem by William Blake, “Eternity”, that rang true to me when first I read it, and still does:

    “He who binds himself to a joy
    Does the winged life destroy;
    But he who kisses the joy as it flies
    Lives in eternity’s sunrise.”

    I have feared that binding to a joy, and have practiced much letting go. When you write of letting go, setting free loves, It rings a familiar bell – well, more than one, sometimes it rings sweet and clear, and others dull and cracked. But now you write of a joy that has bound itself to you, unexpected, and then absent but still attached. A different bell rings, one strangely familiar and not.

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