my veins drip on the page

i really like this.

Cool write ... You express what can be a God awful and even painfully excruciating feeling that in a blink turns to warmth & desire ...

Well done!

LSP

yes, very familiar. excellent. how profound it is when almost everything we write is poetry...

& I don't need to add it since you've already graciously presented me w/it...

This is painful in all the right ways. This is skin pulled taught over a starving frame, muscles weak and weary from carrying the weight of the day, a mind bent and smoldering on things he should do but never does. And then it’s the fall, the sweeping up and over of all the things thought to be known and familiar thrown all to hell around him. It’s the chaos of believed intentions skewing him over and over again with reality, shaking him hard and fast with an unforgiving grip that leaves him marred in blues and purples and he can no longer feel the ground beneath him. This is the rage of understanding his own fault, his own flaw, the life that runs through his veins slipping slipping slipping into all the crevices he allowed to form. And maybe this is the healing too. The use of those splits to form something new, useful – a new vein to usher in new life, a reminder that there is a world that exists outside of his own skin. This is beautiful.

and now as i reel and in reeling i am kneeling in thanks from the pummeling of your raw-real reflections... the light after the storm is breathtaking

a lovely stroll after the glass explodes....make
a bit of mess
to make headthings
an approximate mesh

                  before the net
                  before the snare of
                  "now, I know"

the snare of "now, I know" -

so many, to many
many(s) of quirks
of mind that jerks me
mind off in  tangents
tangibly(im)perceived

i query of thee about an an approximate mesh

meshage me meaning approximate
exactly roundabout ok about the mesh
i mesh know seriously, probably
not but true one or the
other anyway

i want a lexicon to decipher your writ
wit willy dig

 
e'ery time wee think wee know what wee think is 'real',
wee is thusly
 
trap'ped.......& as was said elsewhere:

"welllllllllllllll,  
  
gawd knows I hate to be a disappointment, but iyam  
prettymuch completely  
ignorant  
as to thee methods that give rise to  'my own' transcen-dental bitemarks upon thee interweb.....  
  
I spent 25 years of previous century in the 'mental health' business, rubbing proverbial elbows wit the 'best & brightest', + spent 5yrs in commonlaw marriage to one of the best of the brightest....anyway she 'saved my life' inspired my 'miracle' recovery from a turn-of-th-Century hereditary plunge into Cardiac Adventures spanning at least 5 underdiagnosed heartytax in 7months, leading to emergency radical surgery that was thought I wouldn't awaken from....followed 2 yrs later by a psychic conflagration triggered by her own sad 'demise' at the hands of little demons that had laid dormant since formative years, that all thought had been well-taken care of & laid to rest.  
   thanks to 30+years of Buddhist intellectual selftraining (a hobby), 'something' fell from my supersmartass brain into my metaphoric & physic heart in order to keep 'me' alive.  
  
I don't giveashit about anal'ysing anything I do or think, which has pushed my creativity into hyperdrive (music,imagery,litter'ature), but has disabled my dealing with the real-world common delusion (of which "I" am as much a part of as anyone).....  
  
there's a painful clarity to 'it all' which all 'spiritual' people aspire to, but subconsciously nobody really wants..('pain', yknow?)....such shit does not meet our engrained 'comfort food' standards & expectations.  
  
Soooooooo...."I" have no 'methodology' to explain this litter-all madness....no lexicon to explain my spontaneous' invention of 'word', & dis'conjugation of 'my' deconstructured syntax.  
  
I must just strive to be unconditionally greatful that I have the privilege of some kind of 'artistry' to accompany these deformative endgame years  
  
to beat a deadhorse with cliché, no looking gift-horse in d'mouth.  
  
thank ye for taking time to look at 'my stuff', jimmy.......... "