He Who Shows So Little

"He Who Shows So Little"

He who shows so little,
To those who wish to notice.
His eyes squint and his,
Mouth curves into a grin.
The lips that touch my own,
Feeling delight, but without
That singular spark.

I, who shares so much,
To those who don't care.
My eyes open wide and,
With extraneous excitement.
The mouth that shouts out,
Exclamations and heralds!
Spreading tales, without
Much substance.

To we, who reveal so little,
In the ways we see fit.
Conversing and staying silent,
Not feeling any wont to learn,
From each other. Only on those
Rare days will we truly connect.

If You Should. . .

An Unorthodox Haiku:

If you should see me
In the street white with snowfall
Please give me love.

For I need it so.

Trying for Depth

I'm gonna try and be deep right now. Well as deep as I can be, which I'm sure is like a small koi pond. I suppose I'll start this post with a poem, as I am sure all deep thinkers do. They begin their thoughts with an opening act:

Oh, Oh, You Will Be
Sorry for that Choice—Redux
By E.Iguana

Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that choice!
Take a moment to fathom what went wrong.
Was it my mouth or my movements that,
Offended you firsthand?
"Oh but I still wish to remain friends!"
Seriously,is that the game you wish to play?
Trying to become the better man,
And I'm supposed to sit here and smile because
You wish to preserve a friendship!
Oh, I will love you still, and all of that,
I will be your pal; granting this wish you request.
I shall be called a close friend and,
Will live up to the title to the nth degree;
You will not see any jealousy of me,
Because I am playing the role a trusty comrade does.
But some insane day, your life has turned
Upside down and inside out.
I shall be waiting and with open arms,
And with my comfort, I shall feel vindicated!

So that's me being angstyish and deep. My Koi pond has pebbles. So onto real issues...

The technical rehearsal for my play didn't take long and wasn't half as painful as I expected. That's because they gave me stuff to do on the light board. Which was an amazing experience! I love wardrobe, yet it was nice to actually be part of the show. "Cue 2...go!" How thrilling to feel that surge through my body as I pushed the button and saw the lights change. And since I like pushing buttons, I was as happy as a monkey.

Then thoughts have been coming and going through my head. I was thinking of meeting up with The Gentleman Caller. Now I'm not one for the dramatics. My life is very boring, I just make it exciting. When I think about this impending meeting I am filled with frustration and anger I know I may do something ridiculous. In my mind I want to slap him, and I am convinced I will feel justified. Someone said, "You won't really do it." Which I agree 95% of the time people don't feel that passionate.

Yet, I think about these discussion items I want to bring up: How dare you pretend we haven't not spoken in 6 months and want to pick up where you left off! How dare you play these mind games with a 22-year-old and never hone up to the responsibilities being the mature 30-year-old that you are! How dare you lead me on for over a year and never wish to bring it out into the open and when I finally was honest with you, you play it off as nothing! Add in how he has a personality disorder and then make him pay for dinner.

I'm not looking to make another friend. The way you treated me shows that you aren't really looking for a friend either.

Wow, typing that out has left me breathless.

The new issue is of my person. I'm trying to figure out what I want, who I am and who I want to become. This all in all is a very trying business on one's emotions. So for the time being I've sworn off sexual encounters with men. This may not seem like the wrong choice, but I'm afraid that I will eventually fear sex. The whole idea that -- I will either separate or give to much liberty to the Romantic Era that seems to have taken refuge in my body. Plus to learn who you are, I do believe that you need human contact in the naked sense. It's how to learn about yourself. So that's what I need to figure out.

So I think that's enough deep thoughts for now. I don't want to O.D.

Down for the count...

My body is sick. To be alert of one's body is a weird thing to experience, but I feel it. Not that, "I'm dying" feeling, as I usually discuss. But in the sense that I am ill. I feel warm, my lymphnodes are swollen and I'm more tired than I usually feel. So much in fact that I skipped the gym without feeling regret or remorse. I did later in the day, but that's a different tale.

I woke up this morning and put the finishing touches on my abhorrent lighting design project. Just let me pass, I don't care if it's a C or an A, but let her give me sympathy and see the time I put into it. Let her take pity and say, "Well, this was his first time." I don't care.

My two days of debauchery have taken their toll. It's interesting to think that I have sexed myself into physical pain. Some may see that as a form of masochism. I feel it as purging, I shudder to think of what the inside of my lower region looked like the day after. It wasn't pretty, but it felt so good.

Was I that built up, that the moment I could let it out. I wanted to be rammed so much that I felt pain? Apparently so? Thus forth I am taking the pain that comes with it. I am eating the fiber pills and using the suppositories until I heal again. Then we'll look at life through different eyes, now won't we?

I wake up this morning and immediately thoughts of The Tall Man and our impending meeting comes to my mind. It saddens me, and thus the tone for the day is set. Yet, I know that I need to be more positive! I need to realize I shouldn't beat myself up over it. It's hard to think of looking into his eyes and seeing that he's pushed me away. It's hard to think about ever trusting again. To ever meet someone intimately that I can trust. See how the mood of the day gets set?

I arrived late to school in order to deliver a poem I wrote yesterday while stressed and under influences. It was performed smashingly well, everyone loved it. I have a voice, it's time to figure it out and let the world hear it. It's a goofy poem that was in response to a friend mocking my haircut. Against my own judgement I'll post it. It's more a goofy first draft (this strong black woman reading):

In Response to My Hair
By E.Iguana

Don't move for a moment,
I need to talk...
Friend, dear friend...
Obviously we aren't good enough chums
Or you'd know there are somethings
You just don't say.

There are three things on this head,
Three glorious parts, that if mocked,
Will decree war on the neighboring countries.

First, my lips. Second, my nose. And third, my hair.
To learn about the other two, try and offend another day.
As for now, you shall learn how deep these roots grow!

My hair will be with me,
Longer than any lover has yet to stay.
My hair has been every color on the,
Blond to Brunette scale.
From bleached to burnt,
Not a stranger has died in vain!

My hair has more waves
Than any ocean you will swim.
Like a vast blond pit of quicksand.
If you were to fall in, it could be
Hours before you fell out.

This blond is real!
Each strand,
Like a snowflake
Never the same in hue.
On the left looks dark,
To the right it's blinding!
Doesn't matter because I
Only like when people look,
Head on!

At that point-of-view,
I can't tell what you'll see.
Except a tall yellow pillar of strength!

So dear Friend,
Next time you fire off blanks like that.
Take a look in the mirror and realize,
How much ammo I could fire off!
This tongue is sharp,
And most certainly cuts to the bone!

Oh and I quit smoking today...