Love Letter #14

Dear DM,

I apologize for not writing yesterday. I started but I never really got anywhere with it. Yesterday’s bad mood seems to be bleeding into today. Only today I don’t have quite the stamina to support it. I am just forlorn. I don’t use that word often. I am not sure if I have ever applied it to myself even but today it fits. I need to retreat, to go inward, and find some clarity. At the moment my thoughts are quite virulent and I am reluctant to share them (they are just too dark). I don’t know anything. I am just hoping that it is one of those times in life where it gets darkest before the breakthrough. I could really use a breakthrough. A sign. Progress. Something vibrant and tangible. I have to forgive myself but I will start by apologizing to you. I apologize for pushing you away. I apologize for encroaching into your 3D life but I know that it is only a half-hearted apology because deep down I really did want to talk to you. I don’t regret talking to you but I do regret if my desire to do so made you uncomfortable. Now I have to work on myself. Now I have to figure out what surrender really means because nothing I have read about the concept makes any sense and it is so contrary to the way I live. I struggle. I create sad stories and scenarios because otherwise I don’t know how to get the emotions out. I only seem to understand anything when it has been written down. I don’t even understand my own thoughts until I bleed them. I don’t like silence. I see silence as a weapon. I would rather have a knife. A knife in the heart. A knife in the back. Silence is unbearable. A knife can be pulled out, the wound can be stitched. How does one heal silence? So now I have to turn inward and become as still and silent as I can be. I have to learn how to love myself, how to be everyone and everything for myself.

With everything I am your DF


Winter Sun



The sun slips

In and out

At intervals

Too capricious

To conclude

I thrust my fingers

Into her golden veil

Just as it disseminates

Into a fretful ruse


My lips are a canoe

Aimlessly meandering

Through pools of gloom

I paint my face silver

And flit through the night

An uncompanionable visitor


My vitality depends

Upon her yellow light

Which hides oft behind

A silentious drizzle


Looking at the grey sky I can’t help but miss sunshine

Cautiously Violent


A viperous cape,

This stale room

With its chalky air

Divests resolve

In the dark,

Cautiously violent

I wait for furious shades

To absolve


Carmine is

The consequence

Of silence

A pacifist, I refuse

To partake in any war

For which I

Do not occupy

Both sides



(I don’t self-harm so I was a little surprised that I wrote this. I think it might have to do with my stress level which is very high at the moment. My therapist decided today that she would like to transfer me to a psychiatrist in the hospital. I won’t be hospitalized or anything it is just that they have more resources and can handle patients with greater needs. She thinks my childhood was too traumatic (honestly she seemed scared when I told her not of me but my past really seemed to shock her)? She can’t make diagnoses either should I have something diagnosable. She is very nice and although I understand intellectually it still unnerves me. I mean really unnerves me. I like her and  I still find it very challenging and stressful to hit my appointments. A new person eeeekkkkk)



I’ve mapped the stars through inversion

The reflection of a deadlocked pool

Superficially favoring a change of course


This love accumulating over time

Has grown exponentially more exhausting

I suffer from neither contrition nor objection

Only the unshakeable conviction

That “I” as the subject have died


So much of your heart remains uninhabited

Immaculate white rooms with no juxtaposition

We sleep with our backs facing, crepuscular eyes

Seeking truce in a bilateral quarantine


I find you in the belly of false stones

Unable to extract a single door or window

From your departure, the fireplace

Winks knowingly from across the room,

There is no heat left in her body,

Only hypotheticals