You can't break the loop of thirty years. You have been marked. You may have resurrected yourself but somewhere you have died those thirty years prior and you will never leave that reality. You are forever in room of suspension. There is no address, no phone, no outside knowledge of this room to anyone else. Your secret. Your curse. Life goes and you grow and age and seasons come and disappear and deep inside while you have hoped patiently waiting it's your turn finally, but now you realize this has all been decided those thirty years ago. 

Whatever you're looking for

Waiting at a door patiently for it to open that never will because the locks keep getting changed. The passes and codes constantly rearrange and they keep you in the dark. There is an ominous secret you can't decode. The story never corrects. This is the schemata, everything else was delusion, hope, and most of all distraction. Some people will never comprehend all the fortune they have. Likely because they are too busy living a life in an abundance with those who care and love for them openly and without restraint. Sometimes the only healing one has is to keep themselves close enough to the dark and only go into the light to find some warmth every now and then. 

From tv series "Farscape," Season 2 episode 5

The past almost decade the wind taken out of me that I cannot live or be the same. Every time I feel I can finally settle and lay my sails open the world keeps changing on a reshuffling loop. It's not being beat down but I recognize a metamorphosis I am going through. Though I don't know if that is necessarily permanent beyond a point of no return way, but in changing there is at least some point of no return. We live such sadder and more disappointing existences than we care to admit with all those dreams we were going to fill quiet, small, hopeful and large. Yet the ebb and flow of many erode. So what now?

Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes

He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut

All I know is I'm sick of everything that my money can buy

The fool who wastes his life God rest his guts

"I am not like I was before"

Life is just the shipwreck of our plans - The Shape of Water

my youth

the tilting of the hour glass

"It's funny that way, you can get used to the tears and the pain."

the familiarity

the plague of sentimentality

the bone catastrophe

blood marrow for the off-the grid lock endurance

opening your heart with the butter knife 

calmly retrieved and stored in hand crouched into the couch

you really believed the people in recovery 

endured endless and laughable levels (I can laugh at myself) of error and miscalculation for hope but insane psychic clarity levels of being crushed

it’s my birthday gift to cry all I want

as long as I am insular

as long as my island is not too far from civilization

everyday malaise and normality

survival is my wheelhouse

I am a rock but like all of life I will erode into the shores merging into the ocean

searching for warm pleasure and dismemberment

entering and rehoming the body 

once more crushed with such certainty 

Hi Dad, I really really miss you. 20 years...what is there to say? You were so cool and so smart much more than I will ever be. If that Thursday had just been any other ordinary bad day at school coming home for warmth and to be nestled when the weekend was around the corner. I looked so forward to that. I miss such a small comfort. Before the "after" occurred, the not knowing the worst was yet to come and would reverberate on and on. If I wrestle with the small comfort how can I ever feel safe among the big ones? Or is the goal to realize you are not safe? I have found most people have been able to hide and keep themselves safe. Tucked away, but that is not the darkness I need, I have a few lifetimes I've lived in this life.
Please don't try and solve me
I'm not here to be fixed
I'm not waiting for the light

R.I.P (1948-1995) (19 years)

Tom & Stef at Obsessions, Pang show,1998

its in the after

I sit by myself thinking of him, almost on the verge of tears or the threshold of a long and hard screaming cry, more in the past six months then in the past 16 years. As if I’m waking from the anesthesia I realize how horrible and painful how real…how it can never change or go back. Everything changes in the after. When I go over the circumstances of his demise, I wonder how a person can be expected to go on after watching the spirit of a man die and his vessel leaving the earth. I never had any chance at goodbye or see you…he was taken. I think of him all the time the stuff we will never get to do all the things we will never discuss, all the things I will never get to ask, hear his laughter, an impassioned monologue, or even the sound when he was complaining about, debating, or rebuffing something. The art we will never see, the food we will never taste, the news we will never get to say ‘did you hear about that?’ Get to talk of the books and films I watched that he had watched before because I am finally old and mature enough to read and understand. There will be no travels around the world, no more great writings out of him, no projects we could have created, no animals to rescue, no room that we planned to be just for drawing, painting, art. There are no more stories. It’s over. I think about him all the time anyway but now my mind might be in sync with his death, that he is dead that he has passed, and not just disappeared to never reappear again there is no mystery just craters… So quickly and briskly in six months didn’t miss a beat or birthdays… I only had 13yrs. I am in my third lifetime already at 29, in the after.