Longing, desire, need

a poem, a computer doodle

Sometimes I write and I don’t know what it means.

Longing, desire, need.

My longing 

My desire

My need

Is simpler. Is forestalled. Is wandering.

The obligations I fulfill were not all set by me.

The items I save were not saved by me.

And yet here I am… showing that I care.  I am numb. A slosh of wine in the mouth.

A grandmother watching to make sure I do my duty. Harsh glare.

Lazy, I am, even without the wine.

Such a weird lazy… lazy not to breathe… lazy not to run… lazy not to bake/cook. Lazy not to create.

Lazy to empty a box. Lazy to let the tide take me onward. Lazy to …

escape the fear…

Fear that I will be alone. Fear that I will not be alone. Fear of intimacy. Fear of not knowing intimacy. Fear of opening the door. Fear of keeping the door closed.

Lazy is a way to mask, stall, hinder, forestall. My house is not in order.

Do I knock on the door? Do I wait for an order… a delivery… a fly on the wall to tell me that the way is clear?

Do I knock? Pensive. Afraid. Maybe there will be an answer.

—---------

Limbo… I feel it. I fear it. . . and it’s looking at me mouth agape. I am free. I am alone. I could leave. I could stay. I could hold. I could run cold. 

NO… 

What I fear . . . what haunts me . . . is that there is no knock on my door. Silence in limbo. Alone.

The only knock that might resonate is from my own closed fist.

Hollow. Alone. Waiting. Watching. Patient. Breathing. Languid eyelids floating heavy.

Waiting.

Watching.

Impatient.