Lonely
A single word. Lonely.
I listen to the sound this word can make.
Lonely, Lonely, Lonely.
Lonely could be... a name, a sexy name.
Lonely.
The name of a woman I want to know.
I can imagine her readying herself for the evening,
unselfconscious in front of the mirror,
fearlessly stripping away the clothes
that hide her body during the day.
After a warm shower, running a comb through her wet hair,
applying smooth cream to her sensitive skin, while thinking her private thoughts.
Lonely.
I want to meet this powerful woman at night, in a dark smoky room
just before she hits the stage, to listen and observe with curiosity
as her fine fingers pull at her hair,
fluffing it over her forehead to soften the lines, the pain.
And through it all....how her eyes sparkle, while speaking about something ordinary she did that day.
I yearn to bury my nose in her flesh, to smell her, the innocent scent that radiates from her skin
like steam rising off hot pavement in the first precious minutes of summer rain.
I want to understand the workings of her mind and explore the deep rich recesses of her heart.
Lonely.
Please grace me with your presence. A beloved person I want to know.
A string of letters and sounds that spell... my name.
A sacred string of letters that make sounds representing me,
a human collapsing from an emotional weight unknowingly placed upon me
by people who were only looking for their own relief.
Only looking for their own relief.
Rightfully yearning for their own relief.
Lonely.
People who agreed from an energy space without time to help me discover...
the beauty of a human experience.
In this physical world,
I once thought if they knew me,
the whole of me, the depth of me,
they would not like me.
I dared not risk reaching out to them.
I dared not bare my soul,
my raw private thoughts,
for fear of rejection.
But it turns out that their unspoken rejection has become fuel, fuel for me.
To reject me is to inspire within me the fortitude to step through
what pretends to stand in my way.
Pretends.
Pretends to stand in my way.
My way is not their way. It’s mine alone, Lonely.
I will not stop being impossible for them.
Impossible to summarize or categorized.
I dare to be the temporary rubbish of their world.
The dirty messy stuff that fucks things up
and I exist even when they pretend that I am not here.
I am that strong.
I am that powerful.
Don’t try to understand me.
It might not be worth it for you.
But thanks for trying.
I’m not afraid to cry.
I’m not afraid to die.
Every little death brings me closer to life, a life worth my living.
And now I get to be red hot, passionate, sensual, creative.
Whatever else I want to be.
And there is no shower that can wash away
the wicked wellbeing I feel and know
when I play naked in the rain,
stomping in mud,
unselfconscious in front of the universal mirror,
whipping my wet hair through the air,
bare skin to the wind
while thinking my private juicy thoughts.
When I play this way,
I love them
I love them
I love them
I love them
I love them
I love them
humans also sometimes collapsing from the emotional weight
unknowingly placed upon them.
Unknowingly placed upon them.
Unknowingly and innocently placed upon them.
We...you and I...together...forever... We make it right.
We make it right.
We make it right
with our simple steps.
The path of putting one foot in front of the other.
The path of thinking one thought after another.
The path of breathing to let instinct gauge the direction, not knowing where we will arrive,
we have already arrived.
There is no place to get to, nothing to prove, only to be.
To be free, stripped down,
no hiding, lots of thriving
less shame, more to claim,
free from emotional weights unknowingly,
unknowingly and innocently placed upon us.
We’re all looking for relief.
And we’re all innocent.
Innocent and a little bit Lonely.