  I've been inspired to take an internal foray on here. "If you hold on to your Love, it might not be coming back. " -Griffin House Realizing that i miss my life, not my love, not his friends. Realizing I miss enjoying the smell of waking up.
The intimacy with myself to truly believe that I'm awe-inspiring. I'm trained to say "oh yeah I forgot..." when someone says something bad about me. It really perpetuates this sort of...dirge going on in my subconscious...a sort of mourning for beauty. It has a rhythm. It pervades. "Goodbye good. Goodbye love. Goodbye joy. " For once. And for all. I will dedicate this poem to MYSELF. Making my two Americas (heh) into one. A Valediction: forbidding mourning by John Donne AS virtuous men passe mildly away,  And whisper to their soules, to goe, Whilst some of their sad friends doe say,   The breath goes now, and some say, no: So let us melt, and make no noise,   No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests move, T'were prophanation of our joyes   To tell the layetie our love.
Moving of th'earth brings harmes and feares, Men reckon what it did and meant, But trepidation of the spheares,  Though greater farre, is innocent. Dull sublunary lovers love   (Whose soule is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove   Those things which elemented it.
But we by a love, so much refin'd,   That our selves know not what it is, Inter-assured of the mind,   Care lesse, eyes, lips, and hands to misse. Our two soules therefore, which are one,   Though I must goe, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion,   Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate. If they be two, they are two so   As stiffe twin compasses are two, Thy soule the fixt foot, makes no show   To move, but doth, if the'other doe. And though it in the center sit,   Yet when the other far doth rome, It leanes, and hearkens after it,   And growes erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to mee, who must   Like th'other foot, obliquely runne; Thy firmnes makes my circle just,   And makes me end, where I begunne.
So now that belongs to me. For once and for all. urlLink Raining at Sunset by Chris Thile I have a recurring dream where I'm in an airport and I never get on the plane. We're talking hours of trying here. No anxiety. Just I don't get on the plane. I think I'm ready now. 1+1=1 
