billfriday.com

fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Love Moon

Love Moon (2)

She looked my way,

when sorrow overtook her,

and cast her shine upon my useless heart. 

I’ve seen that look before,

briefly,

through moving windows,

separating us for a moment,

like the miles would,

soon,

separate us for all time. 

But tonight,

like sometimes,

when the earth and the moon are close as life allows,

I feel her. 

Not how we were,

once,

but in the only way there is left to us. 

In our wounded hearts,

under the Love Moon.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Advertisements

Please May I Have a Coma?

nano poblano photo 30 png

“Please, may I have a coma?”

 I said that in a conversation with a friend the other day.  There was no correlation to any one thing I remember talking about.  It was just a stand-alone thought.  This sort of thing happens often with me, seeming, usually, completely disconnected from whatever train of thought or flow of conversation I’m having in that moment.  Most people, even those closest to me, miss it.  That instant when my consciousness gets invaded by my subconscious, and my Freudian Slip starts to show.

I used to miss it, too.

But a lot has happened over the last year that, on this day, I didn’t miss it at all.

I, and most of my nearest and dearest, have had a hard year.  I can’t explain why.  I mean, maybe?  The same way people try and explain how a half-a-dozen women in regular near-proximity to each other seemingly sync their periods, or how, when you buy a make and model of car you never really gave much thought to, then it seems like that same car is on every street and in every parking lot everywhere you go. 

The collective unconscious, manifested.

And no, I don’t believe for one minute that, like periods or late-model cars, any of my friends and I wanted our collective shits to happen, but maybe there’s something equally invisible going on that drew us all together before, so that we could be here for each other in the during, and rejoice with each other in the after.  Because that’s why human beings have friends. 

“Please, may I have a coma?”

Now that the end of another November is here, and with it, the end of another National Blog Posting Month, I think it’s time for a re-examination.  Priorities that held this priory together last month, last year, last life, no longer belong in my life.  Things that once felt important, no longer feel that way.  And I’m educated guessing that the same is being said by many of my friends.  But human beings are nothing if not creatures of habit.  One of those habits is holding onto to things we’ve outgrown, or that have outgrown us.  I don’t know what you’ve outgrown but, like a closet full of last decade’s fashion disasters and fat pants, for me, it’s time to make room for something new, or maybe for nothing new at all, but only for what’s most important. 

Because a closet full of winter coats does you no good if you live the rest of your life in the sunshine.

“Please, may I have a coma?”

Okay, but only for a little while.  It’s time to empty out my storage, give away what I won’t be needing, and decide where the sun shines brightest for me.  But don’t worry.  You’re ALL my friends.  And I’ll leave breadcrumbs on the trail, wherever it is I go. 

Thank you for reading my words these last 30 days.  And thank you for allowing me to spend it reading yours.

Till then. 

 

Always,

Bill

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

With My Heart

nano poblano photo 29 With My Heart png

I saw things with my heart once,

years ago. 

Before the bad decisions. 

Before the good decisions gone bad. 

Before there were no more decisions left to make. 

 

And then my heart went dark.

 

Until,

years later. 

After the bad decisions. 

After the bad decisions gone worse. 

After there were no more decisions left to make.

 

And then you turned the light back on.

 

I saw things with my heart once,

years ago. 

Before my heart went dark. 

And now,

I see them with my heart once more.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

I’m Guessing

nano poblano photo 28

This much I know. 

You’re not that into me. 

I think I’d know it if you were. 

Here’s what I don’t know. 

Why it is you keep me around. 

Maybe you’re just undecided. 

This is all brand new to me. 

And so are you. 

I’m a lousy guesser. 

I’m guessing you are too.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

How I Accept the Unacceptable

nano poblano picture 27

When they say that we can

leave it all behind,

we still

take it with us when we go.   

 

And nothing is forgotten

that’s forgiven in my mind, 

until

creation and us with it cease to know.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

When an Empath has no Empathy

nano poblano photo 26

I undergo profound changes every November. 

Cataclysmic, visions-of-a-personal-apocalypse life changes.  It’s happened three Novembers in a row now.  Sure, it’s only a blog challenge, but I’m generally blog-challenged, being a poet and not really a blogger at all.  So when November rolls around, it seems like I’m just not allowed to ignore all the seismic emotional upheaval that something of this creative magnitude rips open for 30 days straight.

See, here’s the thing, because you knew there’d be a thing, right?  The thing is, I’m kind of an empath.  Not the ‘I shake your hand and know where you’ve buried the bodies’ kind of empath.  Just the ‘I feel things deeper than most people’ kind. 

My feelings. 

Your feelings. 

Friends’ feelings. 

Strangers’ feelings.

Hell, I even feel your dog’s feelings.

Did you ever see the movie “Species”?  The original, where the government assembled a team of previous strangers with varied skill-sets to capture and/or kill the Escaped Sexy Female Alien Hybrid, on the loose and looking to mate?  Then you remember the soft-spoken empath, played by Academy Award™ winning actor Forest Whitaker.  This version of the B-movie empath wasn’t a psychic, or in touch with the spirit world, or whatever other way B-movies portray the empath.  This version could simply feel what others around him were feeling, and tell you what those feeling meant

I liked that interpretation. 

Because at the roots, it’s the closet I’ve ever come to being introduced to mine. 

And then there’s the downside. 

The thing is, I’m kind of an empath.  Not the ‘I shake your hand and know where you’ve buried the bodies’ kind of empath.  Just the ‘I feel things deeper than most people’ kind. 

My feelings. 

Your feelings. 

Friends’ feelings. 

Strangers’ feelings.

Hell, I even feel your dog’s feelings.

Especially my feelings.

Which in the past, I could ignore for my own sanity’s sake.  But last November, after writing a super-concentrated month’s-worth of feelings, I lost the ability to bury mine.  No more clearly-marked boxes for emotions.  No more handy compartments for feelings to go.  No more mindless default ways to ignore them.  They were, for the first time, all on the same great big plate like a 64-box of crayons melted together in a microwave oven, and it was a fucking mess. 

My fucking mess. 

And I had to choose my path before it killed me.

The title of this post is, “When an Empath has no Empathy”.  It comes from a random thought that popped into my empath head a couple of days ago, about someone from my past, equally gifted with the ability to ‘feel all the feels’ like I do.  A random thought that goes, “What if you were an empath with no empathy?  Wouldn’t that just make you a sociopath?” 

And after reading everything… okay, a few things on Reddit… my non-clinical, non-scientific answer is, “Yeah… I think it would.”

But is that how I want to live the rest of my life?  Just surviving like a spiritual grifter, living off the feelings of others instead of feeling all the feels and helping those who need whatever it is I can do with all the messed up feelings.

My feelings. 

Your feelings. 

Friends’ feelings. 

Strangers’ feelings.

Hell, I even feel your dog’s feelings.

Especially my feelings.

So this November, I was left with a choice.  Do I want to spend the rest of my life finding new ways to shut off all the feelings and face the consequences of knowing and not caring?  Or do I stay on the path, as I suppose was originally intended, and learn how to be who I am?  Feeling, and dealing with my choices.

Like I said, I undergo profound changes every November.

And I can’t wait until December.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Until Forever Will I

nano poblano photo 25 png

Never have I ever taken in

more than

one breath at a time,

like all of the rest

of breathing creation. 

One breath

at a time,

for a lifetime.  

Never more,

and seldom less.

 

Always have I ever taken in

more than

one worry at a time,

like most of the rest

of breathing creation.

Every breath

all the time,

for a lifetime.

Always more,

and never less.

 

And now until forever will I take in

no more than

one worry at a time,

like the bless’ed best

of breathing creation. 

My next breath

and for all time,

in this lifetime. 

Forevermore,

until my rest. 

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Black Friday

nano poblano photo 24

I don’t go near Black Friday anymore. 

The last time was in ’08,

or maybe ’09. 

I left the headlights on while I shopped,

didn’t have Triple-A,

and had to find a tow that would take cash.

 

Today, I don’t have cash.

 

But that’s okay,

because I got Black Friday out of my system. 

After the split. 

Before the long hours to pay for what I needed to dig out. 

For what I still need to dig out.

 

Today, I don’t have cash.

 

I’m still tying off the loose ends of my life. 

I’ll see the grandbabies for lunch,

kiss them,

and pretend that everything is good. 

My own little girl will look me in the eyes,

and my eyes won’t lie to hers.

 

Today, I don’t need cash.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Because Praying Would Make You a Hypocrite

Praying at sunrise

Staring

into space as though,

in it,

you will see answers. 

Wishing

in the dark,

because praying would

make you a hypocrite. 

Asking

for help

is harder than needing help,

when you

don’t believe you deserve it. 

Remembering

that making it this far is

not a guarantee

for tomorrow.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Even If I’m out of Time

nano poblano photo 22 png

This is a throw-away post. 

It was bound to happen sometime this month.  I just didn’t expect it to happen like this.  To be brief, my computer and my phone are working.  I still have the internet, and I’ve been good physically.  I haven’t run out of ideas, and I haven’t run out of words, either.

What I’m out of is money.

And because I’m out of money, I am also out of time.  I’m out of time to sit and contemplate what to write over the last week-and-change of National Blog Posting Month.  I’ve been busy chasing the money necessary to keep the creditors at arm’s length while I complete my comeback from the work-related depression that forced me to quit my job last June.  Yesterday, I sold my pickup truck to the highest retail bidder.  Sold it for a couple grand less than it was worth, just to get the cash.  The cash that won’t be in my hands until after some bills go to collection. 

I’m not bitching about life.  On the whole, life has been pretty good to me.  For now, just not THIS part of life.  I’ve been told, repeatedly, that life… God, the Universe, whatever floats your philosophical boat… takes care of me.  But today, I can’t say I know that.  Because today, I’m writing a post saying that I could be living in a twenty-year-old Dodge in a couple of weeks.

And the downside to all of this distraction is, I’ve got no time to sit and contemplate what to write.  Not what to write for myself, because I do that every day, but what to write for you.  Because some of you read me every day. 

And I don’t want to let you down.

So for the rest of National Blog Posting Month, I’ll keep trying and meet you here, every day.

Even if I’m out of time.     

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: