Poems...possibly angsty.

I ran out of pages in my journal.
I need a new one.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this one.
Toss it in a book pile somewhere?
But
before I do
I will share
the (possibly angsty) "poems"
I have written
from my book.

-----------------
These tears that
I swear aren't mine
come from a place that
I don't know.
But I feel the weight
in my chest
The scorching warmth
in my eyes

I don't know why they
chose me
why through
my face must they fall

It is through them that
I feel sadness
my solitude and my fears


But I did not call them here.

-----------------
This is not my book
I'm sorry I took it
I'm sorry I need it
I'm sorry I don't know what to say.

This isn't my book
But these are my words
My feelings, my confusion
my stream of consciousness.

Forgive me.
------------------
(This one even I consider angsty)

I am a monster
a demon
a child of wrath & scorn

I am a man
a sinner
a tool of work & toil

I am a boy
alone
and I'm afraid of the night

I am a twist
a swirl
a blend of wrong and right

I am unknown to myself
But still a whole part
A mystery, an enigma
But one I can't live without.
--------------
(Continued angsty)

I speak to myself
I speak for my regret
I speak of my wrongs
I speak to forget

What am I?
Who am I?
What have I become?

Am I a man?
Or a monster?
Or have the two become one?

Hate me, scorn me
Beat me, kick me, shove me.
Burn me, cut me
But don't tell me that you love me.
-----------------
(I gave you fair warning
It's almost over
This one I don't find angsty at all)

I've seen
so many
beautiful women
today.

I've seen
so many things
to make
my heart sway

I saw a girl
that I thought left before
But as I watched
her leave 5 stops later
I thought
What was I waiting for?

She had
all the right
features
long hair
pretty fingers

And she walked
with a sway
that said fun
beyond bleachers

So I wish
I had spoken
Instead of sitting
here now
Writing out
all these feelings

At a bar
rather dim
on a small
piece of paper
Are the words
never told
to my friends
or to strangers

Just this book showing me
That unless I learn to act
That I will always be carrying
it around
in my back.

-----------
(Last one, I promise)

Caught in my daytime reverie
I remember you there with me
As we sat on grey step benches
with open fields and baseball fences

I remember the way you smiled
And I wanted to stay there awhile
In that place where we once roamed
so very far away from home

I remember you taught card tricks
and I knew, but to shy to ask
But then again you taught me anyway.
[unfinished]

------------

That's it.
Painful to read, I'm sure.
But
I told myself I would no longer be ashamed of my writing.
I have to let it live.
And so I will.
And I will continue to write
(soon as a find a new book)
And hope that it gets better.

strings

There is something
on the tip of my mind
the tip of my tongue
the tip of...my penis?
Well, that could be lint.
I digress.

I often scour the internet when I'm feeling particularly
puzzled
about polyamory
and what it means
what it means to me
what it means to Baby
what it means to That Guy.
What it means to people.
In general.

I take a look at both positive and negative views
And see how I feel
See if I can...how you say, relate.
I do, and I don't.
Like everyone else.
No one's story is ever the same.
And I am not different
but I am...different.

I read Laurell K. Hamilton's books
about Anita Blake
the Vampire Hunter
Not just because it's about Vampires and Shapeshifters
and the Preternatual.
(Yes, I had to look that word up too.)
Or because it's a bit erotic sometimes
(read: anything past book 8(?), and you're just waiting for it)
But also because
the main character, Anita Blake
is involved with a lot of different men
Trying to...and dealing with these new relationships
and old ones.
How they change, how the grow, or how they fail.
I find it very interesting, intriguing if you will
I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't looking for answers of my own.
But that's why I continue to read.
Sometimes I find new understanding
Sometimes I'm left feeling upset
and sometimes I'm just downright confused.
(Which I often am, so it's really not all that different)

But there are times, as I said when I scour the internet
to find my answers
or to help me ask the questions I need
for the answers I already have.
I cannot yet say if my reactions are positive or negative
Because truly, it is a blend of both and neither.
It's a very rugged, twisting, sliding, scary, yet exhilarating path
to self discovery.
What have I discovered?
I don't know.
I'm still finding out.
Perhaps I'll always be finding out.
Perhaps I'll never find out.
But the point of a journey is to get somewhere.
Now what you do along the way,
That's something completely different.

I find that in looking for...stories, or guidance
I seem to run into more articles written by women
Moreover...women with a very similar attitude.
Which isn't a bad thing
Just leaves me with more questions
...for myself.
I mean, I'm grateful to learn how some people may think of these things
But I for one
feel as though
as I said
I am different.

I searched facebook for a poly group
and found one
read an article or two
learned some new things
but then
I looked at the wall
And people spoke of hookups
(which is expected)
and joining other groups to make it
...more...accessible to the public?

And I realize in looking at this
That I don't care about that.
I find that in searching for answers in groups
or gatherings
I am often deeply uninterested in what the crowd has to say
I'm often looking for an answer
or at least
a good story.

I want to find what it is that I'm searching for.
What am I searching for?
Understanding.
Not so much understanding of other people
Because everyone is entitled to their own actions
I have no problems with that
(as long as you learn to accept your responsibilities)
But
I'm searching for understanding
within my self.
Accepting
within my self.

Surely
there are times when I feel alone in it.
But that's the path I chose to walk.
Because
for the most part
I really don't care what else is going on
I came for a purpose
I will leave with a purpose.
I just forget
that I am not designed to be alone always.

So what do I do?
I continue.
I don't have to like it.
I may learn to someday
but I don't have to.
And the choice is what makes it important.

I am also searching
for a different relationship of my own
But as I've said in previous posts
I'm not entirely sure what that means.
So I have difficulty.
I'm aware (vaguely) that it has to do with following your feelings
or your...attraction, your heart or whatever you want to call it.
But as I said in parenthesis
It's very vague to me.

I do not know how to woo
to seduce
or even how to flirt really.
Not that I particularly care to.
But I am interested in learning.

For everytime
she takes a phone call
and I will myself to leave the room
I must find
something
to do.

And this is where my problem lies.
Not within the actions
not within those involved
but within
myself.
I
must find
something
to do.

I am angry.

Last Night
I talked
Not for hours
But consecutive minutes, sure.
I spoke of feelings
Thoughts
Streams of consciousness
And shallow things on the top of my head
I awoke this morning
With seething hatred
Well, not seething
but a hatred to be sure.

"What kind of man allows his woman to take another lover?"
A question I've asked myself a million times
and apparently a million times more.
To this I still have no answer.
A foolish man?
A wise man?
A naive man?
A man trying to fit into a mold?
A man trying to understand his place?
A man that doesn't know much?
An ignorant man?
A happy man?
Or just a confused one?
Again
No answers.

I feel so much...resentment and bitterness
Because
it's slow-boiling.
If it were just once or twice
I could live
But it continues to...thrive
to fester deep within me
growing with each passing day
like an ulcer, a cancer
a sickeness
What is my cure?
What is my illness?
What am I doing?
I don't know.

"Do you think you need to talk to a therapist?"
she asks.
No.
I feel like that has nothing to do with anything.
I feel like I should be able to talk to
the person whose job...no, whose obligation? No, that's not it either
Whose...responsibi...no that's not right
It's no one's duty in life to listen to me.
But some people do have that choice.

I have a lot of anger
perhaps misguided
misdirected even
at the Other.
We know this
It is proven and documented fact.
But consistently I am faced with the question of
"Am I wrong?"
With no answers.
No...clue.
So I tunnel deeper within my own psyche
to unravel myself
and post new definitions of things
so I don't have to feel so bad.

But I do feel bad.
To say anything else would be a lie.
I feel quite bad
On days that I think about it.
On days that apparently I walk in on the wrong conversations.
On days when I am forced to question my own living habits.
Just how much privacy is required for two people?
For one person?
and again
Am I wrong?
Am I a fool?
Or have a stumbled onto something great
with myself holding me back
from understanding?

Of course I have my misgivings
Maybe I need a change in perspective
Maybe I just need more time
Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about
Maybe I'm a fool
Maybe I'm making mountains out of molehills

But I know that I'm bitter.
I'm bitter in general
because I strongly dislike people.
I can't say this is helping that opinion by the way.

I don't know where I need to be
I don't know what I need to be
I don't know when I need to be
I don't know anything
except the pit of feelings that stirs
Particularly if I see
Things.
I leave Things loosely defined
because thinking about it makes me sad.

Sometimes it comes back to me
and I think of how I feel about myself
Its not always negative
Not always positive
Not always neutral either.
But I also feel independent of myself sometimes
as if my shadow and I split in two
and I could stand next to my own image
Who's the real me?
What are we both thinking?
If I look up will he?
Will he because he's my shadow
My image
or Will he because he knows to look?

I don't even know who I'm mad at.
Me?
You?
Him?
Them?
All? Probably.