Pulls Me Into the Pit...

*sighs* I write the best poetry & stuff like that when I hurt cuz then I have a mirrored egg around my heart and nothing but me exists in there.

The sweetest thing from this weekend…holding Tfemale in my arms as she came and kissing and stroking her face gently and having her turn to me with a kiss.
I can’t get emotionally involved with T&T.. I KNOW this with all consciousness.

(I am writing this right after the previous one..cuz I can’t stop writing…but oh I am SOO good at denial and ignoring things that hurt too much to look at straight on)

But at the same time…we get along so well. What Am I saying? We click...we act like old friends and new sistas… I like talking to her…about all sorts of things.. she likes the same tings I do. I am too loving of a person and I can FEEL my heart stretching out trying to wrap it’s fingers around her/them and hold them close...but I know it would be/will be madness.. They are married. To each other.. and a third person is till a third wheel no matter what.
Ow… I want to babble on about tings unimportant and inconsequential…and let everything else flow away and be free. I want to think about the color of my nails and what boy likes me and whether it’s gonna rain. I want to be able to drift off in a memory bliss. I want to fall in love so hard and so good that the concept of pain doesn’t even exist. I want to be who ever I want to be. I want to dance through life with a light heart and fragile feet…balanced on the edge of utter misery. Whoa. Emotional turmoil…signaled by sudden digestive stress. I will NOT go there… not today…not tonight. But I can’t ignore it. *side steps jerkily…* like a black hole my pain pulls me towards it. And the more I write about it the smaller it becomes. Ah. It doesn’t hurt as bad as I though it did. In fact I could almost sit her and lie to myself and say that it doesn’t hurt at all…but that would not be very Jazzy. *sighs* I don’t want to cry anymore...and I don’t want to harden up like old cement…
Work certainly allows you to distract yourself… I understand workaholics now.. they do it for the blunting. It’s time for me to go home…so I’m going to leave….and try my damnedest to…

Stay Jazzed.