i don't want a hug.

I had a long discussion with my girlfriend tonight about her problems and my own and how I seek seclusion when I'm in a rut, while she seeks the warmth of others. I find it difficult to hash out issues when surrounded by noise. Ultimately, I believe the source of the problem (whatever it may be) lies inside of me, with external contributors acting only as buffers to an internal battle. so, silence is golden in this case and with the graduate school sack on my back, it's time i pick up the pace and start running this bitch like it's the olympics. with that being said, my lady love i think takes it personal when i decide that hanging out isn't the best idea "right now", although i still spend a lot of time with her, she views our exchanges and quality time now as "awkward" and "forced". honestly, i don't share the same sentiments but i understand where she is coming from. i probably do seem somewhat standoff-ish of late but it's all in my plans to gain control of those aspects of my life that need to be controlled and are able to be controlled with my persistent attention.

i guess at some point it's just time to stop talking and start doing.
that's what i'm aiming for this month.

i want to believe.

i want to believe someone is listening. i want to believe all this means something. i want to believe in myself. i want to believe that i have control. i want to believe that i can do whatever i want to do in life. i want to believe i will find the motivation, drive that has eluded me for so long. i want to believe that these answers are not at the bottom of some bottle of liquor. i'm tired of drowning my tears in self-destruction. the dry mouth, the hangovers, the wasted time. i want to believe that somewhere there is help for me. i want to believe that i want help as much as i believe i need it.

dear brian,
stop talking to yourself.
it makes my head hurt.

sincerely,
brian

guided by the moon (a poem)

what is this exchange of looks
that has me staring into the wide
expanse of desire behind
those eyes?

everytime you uncross your legs
i plunge into the depths
of longing,
i, now and again
dancing with my mouth open
watered in the delight
of your knees where they bend
to find me
your body is a glimmer
of starlight in the crevice
of a rock that is my salvation,
my manhood unraveled
across the warm floor

at the center of your pelvis.
and i will wait in vain for your love,
the rhythm of orgasm,
the hum of sirens beyond the window,
the exchange of light and dark
between closed blinds,
the funk of it all
like i can't believe this could ever end,
the discovery of something
we could never touch,
but know of its touch
oh so well.

if only silence could
be translated into the slip
of your tongue under mine
maybe then
i could hold this memory
long enough to discard
all my wet dreams
maybe then
you could hold me
close enough to become
everything i could
never be.

digging for answers to everything

Indeed, I am lost in the fog of preoccupation with what is expected. I speak of expectations borne not from within yet without, without my preoccupation that being with the present all things within but in the span of a day, say from sunrise to dusk, that which is within and without is nearly impossible to decipher as more than one. This is my plight. Let us not begin to speak of double-consciousness or dreams or passion, only simple thought. Am I really here? Is all this noise the only benchmark for what I am, was, to become? Am I experienced say in the way Jimi was? Will I die a genius of the blues young? Will I grow old and un-wise; die in room drowning with unanswered questions? Are answers worth dying for?