relationships

from bed, wrapped in a towel waiting

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

cancer crushed the cornerstore front where i was soft selling my wares to those who would stop long enough to understand the value of worlds that would emerge from words they heard dripping with hyped to high-heaven hyperbolic terms, a pitch to catch every dime store dip-shit who couldn’t discern between integrity and the incessant need to flatter ourselves in the dark imagining that she would actually come home with us

or him home with me

you home with he

we don’t come home

i wasn’t so disillusioned

understanding fever pitch i walked away before the switch would kill the last necessary need to continue to feed the balancing half of this distraction

it was destruction

disappointed that you kept defending their right to feed at the same trough as the ones who gave you this cloth, stained with the way you trained them to listen when nobody else would come

a disease

innocuously took the heat for you

the lie for him

the life from them

why did you tell me you were born in July

I was at that store

when your mom, on your birthday, left you in the falling snow

from bed, a letter

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

Hi –

Thank you to all followers and those who stop-by to check out “my morning stream”. If you haven’t read the “about” tab, please do, it shares the process and project behind this blog.

In total, I’ll be looking at two years of streaming, editing, sharing, worrying, forgetting, fretting in self-conscious fits, and otherwise being a writer who feels as though they have something to share.

Delayed gratification, wrapping my head around insecurity, and understanding process are the underlying personal challenges i expose while undertaking this endeavor.

Themes that come out of my writing? Those are many and varying.

I rushed around a lot, still do some, though I’m coming to terms with my skin and abilities of what I am and who I share – what we have is one another. Not always peaceful, not always at war, and sometimes just being; yet together as we push and pull to create something greater than what came before.

By profession, and otherwise, i’m a teacher. i believe in the pursuit of being uncomfortable, taking risks, and sharing what we have to offer to continue sewing the infinite thread that passes through the tapestry of human history, as to not lose the fundamental pieces of who we are as beings.

Who are we?

People who desire love and community, people who are destined to experience loss and humility. One beat with billions of faces finding ways to contemplate and share experiences that bind us.

Thank you, again, for your support. Some days I’m embarrassed by what I publish, others proud, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know the person who wrote the words you see.

Surprise and mystery, of ourselves and one another, are reason enough to rise in the morning.

I look forward to conversation and visiting the worlds you create.

Thank you,

Andy

from a stool, morning is becoming night

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i slumped

when i saw the satisfaction you took in skipping ahead of the sunrise

a surprise

it was ours

the glow

coming up, casting shadows with caution while carefully creating cascading columns, shafts of light to shelter the catatonic owls who squint themselves to sleep

you didn’t want to be there

alone and unaware of the depth my breath would have to travel in an effort to calm my loss

the losing of someone who celebrated our awakening

you see,

i need you

and it’s a lie they feed you that we’re suppose to find this thing by ourselves

that somehow strength is found in stretching our arms and eyes without you to spy so i can surpass the butterflies that crawl and flutter through bellyaching nights to an understanding of this thing

this life

this temptation to answer the question we’re born with

the exercise of pushing limits in search of hoping, accidentally, without hurting

we can find the truth

come back

from a bench, late and unfinished – but here

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

catch me slipping through the cantankerous nights when i stray too far from the regulations we regard

senses slip off our tongues and join in a magnetic hum of where we can drift in times of torture tangled webs and butcher knife forgetfulness

i remember the way you taste

the echo of your heels hitting the hardwood floor we toiled to step upon when heralding a different saint would have been easier

i can’t escape the memory of how your breath, with the day’s work, walked into my space and brought comfort

your choice of dressing dancing before your lips had time to meet mine

a candlelit denial of moments we couldn’t be anywhere else.

from bed, clouds are clearing

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

catapult yourself over the wall

now duck down

close your eyes

caution will slip away

look up

the peak is covered in displays of light-hearted remorse drifting by as another scene unfolds

did we forget our lines

i hope so

let’s improvise interactions that have fallen to rehearsed reactions captured by a narrator who taunts us with mundane fractions of our day lost in painfully predictable and particular fashion causing greater factions in the mental boxes we open and close with emotional roles defined by effect and cause poles that leave us both

lonely

gasping for breath

i could do anything

i can

i can stand where i once sat and forget what i once thought while dancing where my feet grew firmly to the floor

we have chances to break free once more through a sliver in the door

a sliver in my pore, stuck painfully deep no tweezers long reach can free me from carrying this piece of trying

we must

breach the gates where chain links now lock us away

push

now, push

push

stop

locks need to be opened not forced to disclose the truth of our course that lives on this side of the wall

open your eyes

we’re there