Nothing Spiritual here...

Up too late but adjusting to new schedules. I guess I will be finding sleep when it takes me. Days and night eventually will blur, like my dry eyes without lenses in too bright of sun. Spent some time winding down, watching skin and rubbing a few out. Is this what the single life is at times? My taste in guys kind of is intriguing. So many different physical types, such a varied range of emotional  types. Is that what my eyes and heart does is shop all day for him? That elusive Mr. Right? It is laying awake all night in a bed built for two that only holds one now? When alone, I feel a part of me is missing. Am I looking for my other half? Do I have a missing twin, a missing opposite? Am I looking for me?

Trips down memory lane today are strange. Stumbling over memory and revisiting ground that kind of got blanked out in the years. Bullies in grammar school, beating them down and earning respect, always marching to the tune of an unseen and unheard of by others drum. Rat-a-tat-tat in my own head, guiding my steps and propping up that curled and mischievous grin. I was supposed to be a good Christian boy but I didn't have enough sense or self consciousness to know that boys weren't supposed to like other boys, weren't supposed to kiss them in the hallways or buy them Valentines. Weren't supposed to hold hands on the bus under our coats or share a bed when the nightmares and nights were too dark to be alone.  If no one told me no, didn't that mean they all told me yes?

Time fleets, faces and names, kind of tired in head and heart. So many years, places, beds, rooms, rooftops, cars, woods, tents. All these places love shared, lust roared at times, lambs and lions, meek and lowly. God save us all.

Each time I choke something out of me, either words, tears, laughter, songs or semen...do I lose some of me, or contribute to the world, or nothing? What if it all doesn't matter at all? What if it is all just some comic and cosmic joke? These people so near, when not prompted seem to forget I am here. What do they want? Who are they now? Why is control so important to those who do not have any over their ownselves?

I'll lay awake later in cool sheets under warm blankets and stare at a dark ceiling until sleep steals my thoughts. Worry on health and hurt will pass behind my eyeballs where the real thinking starts. Whiff of deodorant when shifting over, pillows balled tightly, arms and legs tussled, I will wrap me away out of harms way, at least for one night. What dreams and nightscapes find me I know not, just scraps of memory left on the morrow.

Sun up to sun down. Toil and play. What to wear, things to eat, wash the body, sing to self, greet strangers, move things, drive cars, gaze at sky, lust after horizons, wistfully remember someone, wonder who he is, walking, tossing, turning, wishing, hoping, seeking, sweating, falling, grasping, gasping, glimpsing, wanting, waiting...

On it goes. On it goes. On it goes...