A Foundation? or, a Yarn Creation?

A foundation? or, A Yarn Creation?

   I batted a ball of yarn across my carpeted living room floor. I followed the mass of twine, in a swine-ful and relentless chase. Enthralled I pursued, moving through the house the rolling-string-theory.

 

   I played with the thread that sews, a reality to blanket us from the vicissitudes of life. The coldness which surrounds our state of consciousness.

 

   This seeds my demise… enthralled in your eyes, twilling is a clothier heeding warnings of a whether--man (or “not-man”). I utilize a healing comfort encased in the granular core of man.

   I tweak the fears of these childhood years--yearning to be free of a learning-bell curve-- Home economics is tipsy--topsy-turvy… so scurvy…for us women to construct a creation that will actually work cohesively ----------------to protect you and I?

 

    If you can do whatever you can…then hint: create an atmosphere secure enough to cuddle free from an icy storm of a cold-shoulder… Neglect, tempests…thundering in a blitz of cries, falling as tears--blood-red------unyielding, unfreezing is the stitch that cathextes a finished product, to save you and I from the blizzard--the harshness of a despondent world that won’t answer our desperate pleas for help--an answer…

   Somewhere out there, effecting a throw that can shield you from the elements is present--I believe.

 

   Isn’t this as practical as blasting someone in the face--like a cold-front…wind… searing through a barren place…Heat… who needs a sun anyway, when there is violence at hand? And the opportunity given--to cover you and smother you, with an embracing token of my Love--

   Shit on by the turtle-dove of peace- a contact, reflecting me. A cute little snuggly is all I can present to you… for you to comfort yourself, in the company of a pillow, you can lay your head down and rest… softly upon my shoulder, in the vicinity of our bed…

 

   Go ahead, faculty use the thread of indecision--and act. Bat the ball to the wall--until I come crashing into you--unintentionally and haphazardly…

    In the mystery of Me, I stitch together a connective principle that connects us together. Uniting a thimble of my own affection (I tie a string around my heart and give you the unknotted end)-- under your protection I abstract--and feel safe.

 

   A sharp point pin-pricks, a needle is dangerous, it can inject you with the venom of its own Being…

 

   An allergy is when you present something necessary to encounter if one is to diffuse properly the debasement of the: weave of our human quilt--a tormented human condition of our own thrown-ness-- homeless isolates seeking a nicer reality…

    In your dreams--it seems-- rolling under the covers of thunder… the same as you, you will see a child there born of sky-blue eyes…a “fantasy”?-- a reality of seeing the unseen the unspeakable- mutable-mutation of our own souls-- We, ourselves. Together.

 

   Can you sire to harness the fire under a cloak -- can you keep the flame burning under a shelter… growing in intensity with the passion of your lover, is this… our Love-child--a work of masterpiece.

 

   Ebb and flow, budding and flowering are the concepts at hand…when there’s a demand, can it harness such a power so high and lofty as our desire?…

  Teachers used to say when I was in school: “when the muse speaks--you listen!”

 

   There is a time for anything and my time is now? Is yours--is ours?--is this our short space of necessary darkness in order to see the light.

 

   Are we encountering a confused period in order to rid us of our own shadows…?…confusing human predicament in which we embark… on the sea of Love…

 

floating drifting aimlessly…

 still…

  Jilted from the bride-groom (of the sacrificial lamb)… I jettisoned, protruding out of the vast depths of the human mind--a soul-sent a tear from my despondent “I”.

 

    I am lonely without you, dear. Manifestations of how I construct a reality can be seen as I hurl myself fallaciously in the toilet of an unknown future.

 

    Through choices, I soil myself, “dirtying” the blank slate of a reflective thinking human body. “I”, a social creature… Being of the world then Being in the world thrust and just simply…confused… I am a mystical mystery residing in me…

  Sick--sick again--a sickness stalks deep in the dark within me. I wish my diseased thought would become fatal already!

 

  I dare the alien force within me-- I challenge reality-- in a curious splendor-- I approach the end with courage and patience. Every time I open my eyes I know that I am wrong…

   A loop hole acts as a worm-hole of opportunity. I need a place to fit in to the tapestry of life. That is what our relationship is... a carefully designed tapestry... an opportunity to be included as one. You are my anchor thread, my chance to bond with another out ajoining piece of art. The world, so tightly woven together that it forgot to leave an entry point for me, created you. You loosened your grip and allowed apace for me to be a part-- versus apart-- of you. Belong... Belonging... I crave to Be... with you.

   I’m always wrong about things involving others. When I say that: “I’m the root of all evil” that ain’t a yoke to joke about… I’m really not kidding. I’m assuming (making an ass-out of you and me--here in public) that this is others opinion of me. I’m bad and people don’t like me. Everything about me is moving through an annoyance factory. I’m a powerhouse factory-- a resource of regurgitated protagonist and bothersome (loathsome) qualities that shouldn’t Be… this much I’ve been told, dictated and barked at far too often. I feel bad about myself a lot of times, and how I’m received makes me sad. I wish that I could do better at projecting a more favorable image-- I’m just an undesirable failure…