nathanael.ink

my body is loose and free and clear

but of my heart I lose control

my body is set and outright though livid

but in laughter,  my heart is remote

and then my mind meets deprivation at day

my body splashes sin

my mind paints with lines unconnect

my body lives…

so out with my eyes

I am sure of something coming, while details I am not sure of, I still am sure of IT, and all IT entails. in the same way one can be sure a memory presides, but cannot be reached without an arrow or a stimulus; in a way that just thought could conjure. a stimulus is needed. a physical, an emotional, a trigger just out enough have a place to come into. to come in at all. like the way a door cracked is open enough to be physically closed if desired but close enough to being closed to be considered closed for any sort of mental comfort. or vise-versa. I say that for you to grasp the the smallness of what I consider a stimulus, that it could be as easy as a new perspective on a subject matter that then strikes any memory, which the other perspective would not.

I mean to say most that in the way I cannot recall some memory on wholly own accord, is it not to say the memory is not there. That said, I compare to my belief in the future, memory being compared to a forecast which is in me, but I cannot reach. a knowledge of some concept of what is to come, but details and actuality I am not sure, but, I am sure I know somewhere in me; and as soon as I reach it, or as soon as the thought is stimulated, I will cognize it. it will enter my consciousness.

so your answer can wait, as even mine, waits.

there up within, is a crater which marks where I have been, where I have reached in with my own fist to displace my own land.there is an answer I suspect to suspiciously, that I could not bare to feel her leave with no affect.  what if just like that, in and out, people come and wave big fake hearts; what if just like that cardboard cutouts make kisses and faces and gestures to one another, all along we are unsuspecting; oh but woe, even now I am suspecting I am unsuspecting. and just like that I could take a chance on an image thick as the space between two sides of a single sheet of cardboard. where all the zig-zags keep it feeling thick, keep me thinking I can go deep. much deeper even. but in a flash my knife is through and I have plowed right onto more of what I have been coming away from, going unconsciously toward; if even it is just more air. there. there are some things you can’t fake.

this would be that night. where I am finding all past ‘lovers’ and spoiling what could grow into more flavor. like uncorking a barrel of wine too soon.

tonight would be one of those, where I am texting and calling all who I could display a fraction to.

tonight you would get drunk. tonight you would kill yourself; you would try.

this is the sort of night, which willingly limps into itself, like a vegetable down a child’s throat. how like a sword in the magicians mouth is the night!

this is that sort. where you are so overcome with your own folly, that you will not look at anything else. where to sit in it, seems such an ill proportioned punishment. as we suffer only the consequence of actions. while He suffers the same for them.. yet, He has done no wrong.

how long, will I keep Him from me for it? How long is enough to punish me, and make my whole being realize, it’s not worth it. not worth it to leave at all.

please God.. forgive. I want to be in love

with You more. oh much more. oh God, let love in, teach me how, oh to let love in

I will never.

is it faith, to believe I will. or is it faith, to believe somehow He will. and not mind if it has anything to do with me.

is it this very fight, that keeps me here, while He intend for me to go further, or do I linger, as He desires for me to linger.

just as I think regarding the old testament, I struggle for meaning, for the reason for it. for any purpose beyond “well this was the law, and I can learn of how difficult it was to thereby better understand grace.” or any halfhearted explanation like that. where is the divinity? the architecture of it all? Where is the endless ocean of meaning that can be divulged?

I wish I had an ocean, to better understand how different and unique His is.. I wish I had a molecule, that I could grasp the complexity of the ones He loves to use. I wish I could learn, the way I wanted.. the way I decided. and I mean that, all the way until I say it, or begin to realize that I mean it. and then I am frightened and taken far back.. for He, knows more than my ‘knowing.’ much more than my desire for desired learning.. maybe, as instant of a thought that it is for me to sit in a passenger seat of a friends vehicle, and to watch him enter and put the key in the ignition, I am so sure, without any doubt, that he will turn the key, and when he turns the key, I still feel very certain that the car will start, and go on to our destination, which I am aware of, but the exact lights and cars we will pass I do not know and am not sure of. but, mostly what I want to stress, was how sure I am that he will turn the key. because it is such a quick and immediate thought, a thought which is so clear and right that it feels known, for even the split second prior. I have known the future, for the future was so apparent to me, given the situation, the next step was all too clear.

and maybe it is this way, that God knows what will happen next. not because we are unknowingly stripped of self-will or freedom, but God, knowing all the goings-ons, He can quickly comprehend the next thing which will happen. but He, has done this from the very beginning of  time, each facet of all creation was thought out in this way, as he tweaked one thing, He could see all the effects that might occur from it. down to the sleeve of bark round a tree.

maybe, I will have an answer, for those who refuse mine.

oh how I am sure, that day will come, when my tongue will even still wish it had said more, and tried again. on that day of judgement.. dear God let me consider love more than any fear. let me practice love, let me learn how to love all in truth…

oh Father.. take care of me..

let a door open. let things happen.

I try to be honest. He listens. there is a mirror with my face written all over it. there is an answer, with the same prints, the same track marks, and I see that they lead.. but, where they are, I don’t know.. maybe, that there is no way to know anything which ought to be unknowable. maybe I cannot attain all that which He has made unattainable. maybe relationship I see, was crafted through wrong standing. set like a trap, which God will then use for good. what is compromise? in life at all. in living.

I think at a job where too much goes well, we create problems out of nothing. like complaining to a perforated edge, saying “why are you not already apart?!” or to a drink with a straw in your lap, becoming infuriated that it is not yet even in your mouth, or down your gullet. saying “you were yet so close! but you pussy’d, and could not even complete.”

oh I would treat you the same, if only to gather factuality with documents to lay before your own face, but I know if I should round equal your corners or treat equal your humanity, surely your nut-less sack would shrivel up into you stomach as you peacock your chest, saying “larger. angry. SMALL, to likes of me!” oh that I could treat all equal.. glory be to the beggar who knows only how to depend on human pulls. but woe to the man who finds reason to boast. yes let him be shattered. yes even let me be shattered.

like stability measured in individual increments apart from any whole. that it is as each strong man stands to boast that onlookers see strength, but now the role he plays in a structure demands elasticity or absorption, in his pride he compromises the structural integrity. that sort of strength is only needed in the foundation. and WOE to any man who should set out even a hand to lay it! For there is no other; than that which God has laid..

I feel my brow like my fathers
as if my eyes were in constant threat
from Sun,

a brow like a bridge
loaded with water from River
now risen over.

I cackled at him younger, yet
in days now I face him

a wicked lunge outward was made
like wet sex
under lit light;

lighting of corners and reflection
dismay, and thin flicks wrought

misconception’s long croak, loosing a tongue to tangle me

to tie my tongue..
as authority bares his face,
too reflects at me, daring to deal,

to question me..

what do we do alone?
who could know. the long thoughts as we shower, or that I love to drip dry,
and that tonight I stood for very long with the towel over my face, and it smelt like vacation. like hotel towels I guess. a strange sort of clean it is to shower in a hotel, then wrap in a sheet the body you just cleaned.. but no one could have known, if I did not write it now.

I hope that if I am married before I die, that in heaven, as I enter timelessness, I hope that I can watch my love’s life from the beginning. each moment, each tired and lonesome hour.
and what if there, God would permit me to live my life again, selecting moments to relive. but by then I would have known, that all is already stitched so ingeniously by Him. so as I enter back to my life, my everything would go back too, and so maybe I have lived this moment a hundred times already, but I might never know, for as I come and go from time to timeless, my whole entity goes with me, my full consciousness conforms. and perhaps in heaven I am asking God to go back to a moment, and He tells me I have been there a hundred times already, but I do not recall it. I wonder, if I would choose this moment. for any reason, perhaps just for the irony of it.
or, maybe none of it is as I think I will think it will be.
ahhh.