Isn’t It Ironic?

Irony is simply something occurring to you in a whole different way later.

The realization ushers in a tide of emotion, which in those with the purest intentions,

Results in the Art of Self-Expression.

By reducing oneself to zero and becoming “self-deprecating,”

A person is able to experience things as a child again

Capable of capturing a “feeling” at its deepest intensity,

Pouring it into words or paint and begging to believe again.

To imagine again.

Even the ridiculous like Love at First Site.

P.S. Same goes for Sarcasm, so don’t give up on Me and my Fellow Dreamy Sarcastics❣️

(I could make the poem better, but it’s a love poem, and I wanted to capture it at its fullest intensity).

MAGNUM OPUS: The Last Five

Melting Shame

MAGNUM OPUS:
The Downward Spiral of The Last Five Ends in Joy


When I get out of balance (physical pain + emotional blows with no relief),
I start getting scared.
My perspective gets distorted by my own pain,
And I can’t tell my friends from my enemies.
The problem is, 99% of the time,
I am my Worst Enemy.
So in addition to being in “pain all over,”
My thoughts have no place to land.
This creates a toxic imbalance in my body, resulting in
Me in an Extended Version of the Emotional and Physical Fetal Position,
As if warding off cosmic blows.
It’s not the LEAST BIT comforting, though.

I don’t even know how long these periods last some times.
It finally erupts into a Dark Place,
Both emotionally and physically.
I’ve never written about this before, but I have been diagnosed with a Neurovascular Disorder called Erythromelalgia.
It’s sometimes called “Man on Fire Disease” or “The Suicide Disease.”
And it’s earned its Title!
Sadly, it’s so exceptionally rare, you can’t find a neurologist whose even heard of it,
So there’s very little information out there. Which compounds my anxiety.
That’s the sad case with rare diseases.
With no Big Pharma backing, research dollars can’t be found.
It’s a disorder of the autonomous nervous system.
I “lost” the ability to release heat from my system about 5 years ago.
So, if I combine ambient heat with exertion (it’s extremely hot where I live),
I get heat stroke without realizing it.
Until I’ve got heat stroke.
Which keeps me indoors,
Avoiding life because of my fear of getting violently ill
Should I carry in too-many too-heavy bags of groceries from my car to my apartment.
It’s cooler in there, but it can be dark in there, and alone and scary in there.
Alone to feel shame at not being live like a “normal person,”
And not being able to regulate heat, can’t vent the shame
Without the shame surfacing as blushing fire through the skin
On too many parts of my body.
It’s very humiliating for me to write about,
But since there’s no cure or, in my case, effective treatment for Erythromelalgia,
And because I got off all anti-depressants, and pain meds and anti-anxiety only in emergency
And not for emotional coping,
You can see how my Poems and this blog have been my constant companions over the last year.
This was my last secret to write about,
Because it’s One Thing which has bested me
And nearly ruined me.
What with the limitations it imposes, I felt it made me “unworthy as a companion.”
So that took away my hopes for the happiness I hoped to one day find in the company of a partner.
Which used the be the “safe place where my thoughts would land” as a coping mechanism.
They have no idea how or why I acquired it (again, no research),
So they default to the overdose of highly neurotoxic chemo I had when I was 39 years old,
Fighting breast cancer.
But since I was given no “Why,”
I first switched to “Why Not” in an effort to “embrace the pain.”
That might work for some of you Mental Athletes, but this girl already HAD a frail state to begin!
Like: I was mentally and emotionally fried and too-feeling at the same time to handle “thought mastery!”
So, I decided to “burn the shame out of me,”
So I could at least feel safe inside my head.
I had to find a harbor for my mind or I would give up.
The only way I’ve been able to do this is through writing,
So I mean it when I say this blog has saved me life.
And I have discovered my own voice in the process!
It has been a 3000% net joyful experience for me,
Even if a painful and tearful one.
I’m re-writing a story without a pre-determined ending (see my poem, A Foregone Conclusion – or something like that! It was birthed in MUCHAS LAGRIMAS! Many tears!).
I actually believe in Miracles again.
I had totally forgotten about Miracles, having no recent or long term memory of them.
So anyway, final shame vented,
But I don’t care how anybody prices me!
My price is DOWN TO ME, and I DECIDED I’m PRICELESS.
That’s good enough for me!
So thank you, dear friends, for helping me discover my voice, discover my worth, and to re-grow my jaded belief in Miracles❣️

LOVER OF “HE & SHE”

LOVER OF THE COLLECTIVE & PERSONAL “HE” & “SHE”: HUMANITY

Broken.
OK With It.
Sparkle Most Radiantly When Blended and/or Paired.
Individually Stronger Than Originally Thought.
Capable of Incredibly Courageous Acts.
Passion.
Compassion.
Welcome Home!
Welcome Back!
I’ve Missed You So Much!
Dream Architects.
Lifelong Learners of Both and Each.
Seek Wholeness in Self.
Seek Greatest Potential in Relationship.
Great Times.
Mediocre Times.
Tough Times.
Life-Threatening Times.
Devotion, Dedication, and Commitment in All Times.
Don’t Take Pain Out On Others.
If Pain Taken Out On Others, Sincerely Apologize for Any Pain Inflicted.
Put Both Loves First.
Sacrifice One for the Other to Become a Best Both & Each.
Capable of True Love.
SOLE Home of True Love.
Is LOVE.

P.S. Convicted by my own damn poem! I NEVER post my poems on Facebook, but my poem compelled me. It’s why Poetry makes me a Better Lover of He & She❣️

Toll-Paying & Karma

Don’t EVER pay the unearned Psychic or Emotional Tolls for a Nobody who will just leave you stranded should YOU break down on the side of the highway!

Unless you think you might need a lift from a kind passerby after the jerk passes?

Regarding Compassion


It’s the Greatest Human Virtue. But without Passion, it’s hollow.

Unwelled but never spent… on Oneself or Another… still separates that Human from most humans.

But Compassion Acted Upon distinguishes the human Superheroes.

Unspent compassion is ultimately, blood on the ground.

Says a blood-shedder looking for an opportunity.

LOVER OF “HE”

(Thanks to @anniespratt for use of the image).

LOVER OF “HE”

He works behind the scenes,
Designing worlds of Magic
For his Precious Girl,
He sees the Princess in the Whirl
Winds her down to calm again.
His shoulder comforts at days’ end
Into nights where long
He longs to love-express
Be seen and loved for his Best Self.
He’s loved all day, it might not show
There’s just One Place he calls his Home.

LOVE OF “SHE”

LOVE OF “SHE”

Though her beauty is
unparalleled,
She doesn’t see herself.
More heart-on-sleeve
Than ice queen,
More You-ist
Than opportunist,
Unlike others but
Cares about others.
She’s extraordinary,
With a kind arm and
A soft word.
She’s superior,
A cut above the others,
She opens up to others.
She has a mango smell
And an intoxicating scent
Which compel
Towards her eyes,
Deep liquid sighs.
She shines too bright,
She’s filled with Light,
She spills it out,
She gifts, it spouts,
Transparency
She gives for free.
She’s beauty-blind,
She’s very kind,
She’s Femininity.

PSA: THE EMERGING STATE OF SINGLE INTIMACY IN 2022 📛


PSA: A MOVING SNAPSHOT OF THE STATE OF SINGLE INTIMACY IN 2022 ♨️♨️♨️

It’s not for the faint of heart,
So before you even begin to
CONTEMPLATE to
start the post,
I’ll
pre-advise you QUIT while still time;
That’s the most
WARNING I’ll provide.

I mean: I know it’s a Sunday,
But this Public Service Announcement
Comes at a high cost to ME,
So if you can’t withhold YOUR judgment
Or your morals to make the space
SO I can release the
Advice alien-ating out of
MY HEART onto MY PAGE,
Please keep your eyes on
Yours and Yours.

Not that any of respectful YOU
Has EVER even tried,
But in 2022,
Virtual and Reality are mixed,
And I’ve got a
Religious Persecution Complex
After a lifetime of abuse.

It all boils down to facts
As simple as this and that
I need be LISTENED TO!! So
“Grow up, You Old Idiot!
You’re as apparently as old as me,
So why can’t you see
That my telling YOU
Is an effort to relieve ME!?
I know ALL these pleas fall on deaf ears”
Pleads ‘Feels-Too-Muted’ Me.

Social Media; Being Simultaneously “Confusing” and “Therapeutic”

For the record, I didn’t even know there
COULD be more than two viewers
To a “Private Story!”
Maybe in your fantastical stories,
Laden with Rote Artificiality,
But not in mine, and at least for now,
NEVER in me!

THE DIRTY TRUTH ♨️♨️📛⛔️🛑

THE DIRTY TRUTH

That takes its toll in shame
And whose admission
Causes literal pain
Is this:
In order to feel like
More than One,
I suck my thumb
When I masturbate.

The lengths I go
To feel like Two
Might disgust you
And humiliate me,

But I know in some
The thought would rise
A need to replace
My thumb
With something else.

This tea of truth
Somehow liberates me
And sets me free,
So I spilled it for you
To find its spark
In Someone New
Or the drive
In Someone Else.

How to reply?
I don’t know!
No one ever
TOLD ME!!

I’ve had to figure out
EVERYTHING BY MYSELF!!

The Pathetic Pleas of Ash, Even if Designed for Flame

THE PATHETIC LAST OF ASH

I’d let Water have
Its way with me,
Absorbing every atom
Into every part of me,
If it would just return
A little life to me.

But it causes no surprise
That the booty shakes
And pseudo-body quakes
Which clog your feeds
With more enticing sighs
Obscure my ashy pleas.

It’s the sad fate of fire
That, just to live,
She must start herself up
Somewhere else;

She’d become accustomed
To your lingering scent,
But she has to leave
If she hopes to begin again.

DAMNED BY PERSONALITY

DAMNED BY PERSONALITY

In terms of Personality,
I’m ‘Individual’ ‘ENFP’:
All feelings scream “Intensity!”
And I’m damned to wear them on my sleeve.

When they don’t sum up in sense to me,
I’m damned to spend MY mental change
Trying to make cents of THEM!

Either way, I often feel
Personally, I just can’t win.

LIFE SUMMARY: ABRIDGED


LIFE SUMMARY: ABRIDGED

At a very young age (around aged 3), I developed an “insecure attachment style.”

Then the pattern repeated itself.

Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.

Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.

Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.
Then the pattern repeated itself.

10,000, 000 hours of therapy and “self-help practices” later,

The pattern is repeating itself.

The only difference is I’m aware The pattern is repeating itself.

It’s a GREAT START, though! It makes me feel more “sane and secure” when I’m aware History is trying to repeat itself.

The patterns color my history, but my awareness of them shows ME how strong I’ve been the entire time.

I’m not shooting for “happily ever after,” but rather “hopefully-awareful-and-content.”

DOMESTIC GONE WILD

DOMESTIC GONE WILD

She’s just being Fire.
She makes a fiery dance through everyday items.
It’s her need to fully course through
To ash, especially to ash.

Thinking herself Fire,
Even if it’s futile, she needs to burn herself out.