Hello

Here i am, she said.

Here i am,

Here i am.

The things i want

are not the things

i get.

But there is no thought of

want

I can complete

so there is nothing

for me

(there has been everything for me)

The want i once had

is now a void.

I wanted feelings

and lives

to blend with my own.

But I cannot touch

what is invisible

to me now.

The lives that went

somewhere

i cannot reach

cannot feel

cannot sense.

I turn and

turn

try to see

where no sight

exists,

in a darkness that

renders me blind,

a mystery that makes

no sense.

Maybe our Souls

continue to exist,

and you are here right

next to me

but I am just

unable to see

the bliss.

And so I hurt and sink

and struggle,

drowning in my ignorance.

All this I do not know,

cannot know ,

this is what must be

Hell.

The absence of knowledge

the frustration of no hope

a helpless denial

no more roads to seek

the ends of,

No conclusions to be had.

Just the struggle that always there

as I try to have belief

in this Life

which has been granted to me.

The taste on my tongue

lingers

in some impossible realm,

Incubated and frozen

between

the bitter and the sweet.

Only in this anticipation

of no expectation

can my hope survive,

my will can remain alive.

It is all about the balance,

the limbo

of limbic proportions,

I am to remain here,

I believe,

For infinite eternity,

the breath held-

Caught between the taste in

the cloying saltiness,

Like that of the wife-legend of Lot;

the shifting of flesh

the moment before

the pillar was formed.

She is angry

the Universe has not been kind

lately

But the galaxies

owe her nothing

They have their own troubles

Their own demons

In the shapes of meteors

And Gods

She is disgusted with

her helplessness

her pitiful attempts at

explanations

She is so sick

Of that

Merry-go-Round in her head

Pick me

Pick me

Such a silly answer for this ridiculousness

And she is out of questions

She knows that

one fingersnap

equals 65 moments

and that an

exhalation

of her breath

can be measured

and drawn until

all these moments

finally steal her

last breath

of

Life Away

and it will happen

so

quickly

She knows that

the time between

the bold dashes

and the thin dashes

is non-existent

when her son is

playing guitar,

or her daughter

is giving her

a history lesson,

or her dearest love

has her in

his arms

but those same

bold and not

dashes

are like symbols of

roadblocks

in the seconds

when

her son calls

and says

"I love you,

Mom",

and her heart

drops

down corridors

that

rocket fear

like she

has never known

through her

and still she knows

that she can feel

all this

throughout her

shock

because this

she feels, feels

so so so

so so much.

And so she

beat the time

tricked the clock

And so now,

She stares at her

green sheet

crossword puzzle

while she tells her husband

truths and lies

turned into truths

and her daughter

tries to defy

time

and she sighs, finally,

cracks the

door

open

to audible

Life

inside

and her heart

races

with panicky

relief

and she can sleep

again

for one more

night

that she knows her

son

will still be alive

by his own

hands.

And she vows that

Tomorrow

she will

WAKE UP

OPEN HER EYES

and begin once again,

to match the rhythm of her

heart

to the snapping of her fingers...

There is a post I've saved on Pinterest. It's some dude holding a cardboard sign that reads in black marker"The meaning Life is to give Life meaning". So basically, that is what I believe most of us are doing here on the Prose. We are trying to give Life meaning. I've enjoyed my time here on theProse. More than any other site. Really, it's my refuge. Because here, somehow, amongst these brilliant thoughts and ideas from these writers, there is Hope. And what is there we can retrieve dron this Life, really, except Hope? Hope is everything. So, yes, if you want to experience Life in all its messy hoping, you have come to the right place. Welcome

Put it down

and pick

Life back up

the urge to

destroy

the urge to

Fuck

it all up.

Some Master's

Grand Plan

to cycle

Pain

over and over and over

again.

Lose the everything

and this

is

Zen.

The nothingness

contains everything,

they said,

what doesn't make sense

is true again.

The Universe laughs,

and the answers

disappear

into oblivion.

The shaking. The unease of self. Ok, it's definitely the coffee. This time, anyway. I will...Must...continue to record these emotions, tendencies, affects, of my Self that negatively impact me, or it likely will be quite a while before a change takes place.

Because I'm Ridiculously Loyal to the Resistance.

It is a conceivability that a Self like me will be stabbing, gouging, leeching...you get the point...Demanding the blood from myself...while simultaneously, honestly, puzzled...as to why the red is coming through.

My own worst enemy...

Hmmm....

My own little Universe.

Creating Life

Then snuffing it out.

Engineered for survival

Programmed to destroy.

Oh, dear ironic Universe,

Your always good for

a laugh...

The moment has come.

Where Becca Waits no longer.

The breath that has been held

like a captive hostage

engulfs the Vital LifeSource

frenetically,

thankfully.

Colors red orange

blue purple

turquoise

spring exuberantly

into her awed smile,

full of first bliss.

The energy crackles

around her,

and finally it

has become clear.

THIS

is

What

ALIVE

means.

Becca wrenches herself free

from what has been

her definition for so long,

leaving Becca Waits

in the shambles of

empty nothing

and

Becca Begins.

I am lazy

and sensual,

falling in and out

of drowsy dreams

Capture me now

mid-thought,

and ask me what

I want.

My lids are low

and sexy

My tongue caught

between my teeth

My electric regions

pulsate and throb

into a yearning

beat.

This is the time

this is the now.

Ask me,

and I will

tell you

The reveal of my

heart's desire...