My Heart is To Short

Waves of crisp white sheets crash between us

Is it sea salt or tears I taste

Across the hirizion lay an island of flesh

One I have not landed upon in awhile

It is unfamiliar now

More worn, harsh yet still attractive

It is mine for now but only in notion

One eyes stares at it size its worth

I should try to travel to it tonight

No, my hart is to short

I will lay alone and still

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I Used To Dream, Falsely

  
As a boy I was very alone. Depressed. Neglected. I would pray for the person who would one day love me. This began at age ten. I always sought affection. At thirteen years of age I learned girls loved love letters. So I wrote them. Often, and became very good at it. At this age the act of writing the letter and it being willing received was emotional satisfaction.

  As I matured a response was desired. A return of investment. One small affermation which indicated my feelings we not singular. Often the act of writing proceeded the actual emotion for. It was a hunt. A search for the one thing I desired most. Someone who cared, about, me. An end to my solitude. 

  At sixteen I began a relationship with someone who I did not know. I originally approached her because I wanted my friends to stop talking about who was going to date her, being she was the new girl in school. Our relationship began. No letters this time. I am not sure why other then we talked. Openly, freely, for hours. 

  She was light. I hate I used that description yet it is the most accurate. She smiled and the world was better. She was gloriously energetic, outspoken, nothing less than amazing. So I loved her. Not paper love. Not words twisted to page love. My soul leaps when she is near love. So much so I dared not acknowledge it. Until, one day, as I turned to walk away from her. She grabbed my elbow, tilted her head and said “I love you”. It was not a sily teenage babble. She said “I love you”. As in, you understand this is more. “I love you.” She did. We loved deeply. Until something happened. The love did not stop, just the relationship.

  Years past and I never entered another relationship. Then my wife came along. We met. A few days later she asked me out on a dare. I showed up and she had forgotten. We continued to date. A few months into our relationship my father died. The one person I felt cared about me. A year later I was married. In reflection for me it was out of fear. My wife just saw a boy graduating from Army Officer Candidates School. Basically, not a farmer. It took two years until she first tried to walk out. My fear of being alone made me stop her. I never felt love after that point. Things were basically, not being alone.

  A few years ago I made contact with my first love. She has a loving husband. Beautiful kids and a good life. All things I was happy to know. However, for years I had held on to her as the only person who ever loved me. Unreasonably I felt lied to. She does not love me now so how could she have then. I worked through this to the understanding what we had then was real. At that point she did love me. I had been truly loved.

Sadly, I find myself alone once again. For years my wife rejected me but I hung in for fear of being alone and for my two incredible daughters. My daughters recently moved in with my wife for the summer preceeding me moving back in. They returned to my house to help my prepare my house for the market. While here they disclosed they felt emotionally abused as well. Both (older teens) asked me to keep my house so they could live with me. Sadly when their mother arrived for the weekend things went very poorly. I have not had contact with my wife since. Nor do I expect to. 

 In the end the most important thing is have I been loved. Yes. I know the joy of being loved. My ropes are pulled and sails are set. Traveler is exploring the seas of life again. Maybe I will be loved again maybe not. Regardless, the first time was real and its memory safety treasured away.

  

The Nowhere Place

  Have you looked for me? Wondered where the traveler may be? A few have, and my gratitude is beyond expression. While we all love to sling our ink to page regarding our last spanking, broken heart, kids, flowers, pets, books, add in some more spanking just for fun; are we not really hear for the community? Who post then honestly hopes it never reaches anyone.

 Thus here I am. Actually I am in my “nowhere place” which is emotional not physical. I started going there subconsciously while spending so many years alone as a defensive mechanism. It is a place where I function but quite literally am void of emotion. Very much like a Prozac, Seriquil, Jack Daniels party except I have had none of those this week. 

  I am here because all that I hoped I might could have in a relationship has gone away. A twenty seven year investiment gone. Very much like staying with one company all your career to discover there is no pension at the end. Not even a cheap watch, or grocery store cake. Just a “if you dont want this I’m taking it”. Then realizing the next morning you do not even have utensils for fruit loops.

  So here I am. Nowhere. A familiarplace. Except, this time, I have my Zil who can sense all my medical and emotional issues. She comes over as I look through old Army stuff, puts a paw on my shoulder and gives me kisses. Who can stay in nowhere when Zil is around?

To Old

Ok….to clarify for my two maybe three followers. This is not in reference to masturbation.

I am moving…again. As my name “Traveler” indicates. I have no anchor. Therefore, this week has been a ball buster getting my house ready for market.

( My happy yard wlork face)

 My next location is near the Atlantic. Twenty minutes from the beach. However, I am already planning my next move. For various reason I will go into in later blogs, there are doubts this experiment will work.

I have been nomadic all my life. Longest I have been at any one location was six years….sixth through twelfth grade. I actually moved once then but remained in the same area.

I like change. Fresh starts. New beginings. All the phrases that would sounds good here. Or at least that is what I say and believe on the surface. In reality, below the surface. The hidden me. I am afraid. 

I am afraid of settings roots. I am afraid of attachment. I am afraid of people knowing ….me. I am afraid of hurt, loss and loneliness. I do not want to open up or be known. Yet, I want all these things. 

So I move on. Claiming a Pirates life. Roaming with no anchor. Pretending it is not lonely. 

In reality… I to old for it. To alone for it. Maybe I will find my anchor in time. I hope so. Before time is gone.

Love Should Be

I go to where love should be

Only to find its place empty

I go to where love should be

Yet it does not find me

I go to where love should be

A hollowness there I do see

I go to where love should be

No arms are there to greet me

I go to where love should be

Sorrow stands and laughs at me

I go to where love should be

Misery waits to engulf me

I go to where love should be

There I stand alone

I Need No Blade


I need no blade to gash my flesh.

My memories are sharp enough.

They rip my heart and burn my soul.

No scar do they leave.

They come to me with gnashing teeth.

Bringing a hell I know to well.

No I need no tool to torture me.

Pain gnaws it way through my flesh.

I embrace it now my sadistic lover.

Flay me open until my soul escapes.

Death bringing sweet release.

Alone At Sea

I drift alone on open seas. 

Sails searching for no particular wind. 

By day I drop my sails and rest.

Night falls and the stars become my lovers.

I know them all as the shine down upon me.

The breeze sings to me through billowing sails.

Waves rock me side to side in the mermaids waltz.

Here I am alone in the world.

Lonely as it may be.

Tis far better to be lonely at sea.

Then on land with people surrounding me.