Fixings

Have we made everything so blanky obvious,
there's no reason to act in any one way?
One way we feel is best?
Especially the way we feel we ought to act - supposed to.
I read his diaries. I shouldn't (I guess) but.
But. But. I'm not perfect and I'm sullen and human.
And I'm head over heels in love.
I know everything about you because I make
it all up - construct you, no say - you have no say.
When you asked me if we can ever really become ourselves and I responded,
when are we not? It made me sad to think you
were as much yourself back when you loved her as you are now, loving me.

She lies in bed alone, her love in the other room, being himself. Ok.
The truth is we will strive for however we can picture ourselves.
Self manifestation, which morphs sometimes,
if we let others touch us - but still selfish.
It is fun to me that at the big Thanksgiving holiday
the two oldest men cut the turkey, one leaning over the other,
rubbing his back in small, intimate circles.

How long does it take men to truely understand compassion?
I know everything you are hiding,
you know everything I'm not aloud to say.
It's just fact.
We wish ourselves out of our own ideals -
because we will ourselves to always want- without want, what have we?
And in every choice we make to serve ourselves,
a grain of nostalgia - like a life we lived,
but didn't but did before we killed it.

I do not think he, or I or the house guest will write a truely brillant song - not a song, perhaps a story. But not a song-
best he can do is play a perfect cover- timing, tone.
There's no shame in that.
There's no shame in feeling good about a warm bed.
There's no shame in closing your eyes during s-- and thinking, thinking. Then thinking about what he must be thinking about when his eyes are closed.
We cannot exist without contradiction.

I've liked the fact it's been warmer out then most autumns.
I can go running and feel hot in only two layers.
My car has frozen over maybe only twice.
But where my dad lives, the snow has fallen and fallen.
Where he lives is an ice hotel.
I want a sure thing. No DFW, not hideous- true. Give me passion.
If I could ask my parents one question each and get a true responce. Pass
ion. If I could ask them each one question,
one question, one question, one question.