where to stand, Sick of the Wall - levels of communication

They were a bunch talking cautiously, they had just arrived, i let them speak the usual presentation before starting any durable conversation, i leaned on the wall, apart, but facing them, all guys; after the boring low start a subject rose up, the commonly "do it yourself", -The Making of your own Amplifiers-, which implied, taking measures, sawing woods, sticking the parts together, tools, mechanism, electronics, ... they were at the point to check the steps one by one perfectly described on an internet page, with charts and figures; it didn't take long, i just left them at their technical stuff and i went to my room and started watching a movie about a shy crippled girl, a smother-love mother and a rebel brother, intertwined in a complex, fascinating and destructive relation; after a while the others knocked at my door, when one entered i've read in his bitter smile he reproached me to let the guests on their own to isolate;

For years i've done that, i felt in me i didn't want to stay with them, with that kind of people, in those situations, i couldn't, my guts told me, i didn't want to participate when they gathered around such technical subjects, shallow facts or superficial talks, i felt in me that i couldn't stay, that i was bored, and even if before i was forcing myself to stay with them longer, leaning on my wall, motionless, blending in, hardly listening, and totally not participating, now i know why all this happens in me, and i don't stick when the situation isn't satisfying for me, it's a matter of levels of communication! :

(1) CLICHES - Typical, routine, oft repeated comments, questions and answers given out of habit and with no real forethought or genuine intent. "How are you?" "Fine." "Having a good day?" "Yes."

(2) FACTS - Information/Statistics about the weather, the office, friends, the news, personal activities, etc. Requires no in depth thinking or feeling.

(3) OPINIONS - Includes concerns, expectations, and personal goals, dreams, and desires. Due to differences of opinion that naturally arise between two people, especially between men and women, this is typically the level at which we run into the "wall of conflict."

(4) FEELINGS - Having gone through the "wall of conflict" via applying the communication skills following, you both feel safe to share your deepest emotions.

(5) NEEDS - The deepest level of communication and intimacy where you feel completely safe to reveal your unique needs with each other. Truly, unless needs are known and met, a couple will remain "strangers."

Well i know where i stand now, i know better how i function, for a discussion to be satisfying for me, if i want to feel galvanized and dive into it, passionately, i need to talk at levels three and higher, i know now this is my natural functioning, this is in me, this is how my brain works, this is how my body feels, i need to share at intimate levels, i need to speak my truth and hear the truth of the other, so i want to accept that functioning and share with those who act and feel like me.

The lower levels are useful in communications that don't involve to know the other, like asking for administrative papers or buying stuff or simply working with colleagues, but apart from that i won't force myself against my nature, i need to share, i need to live through emotions.

If you are like me....

can't win against nature

I was slowly shuffling my feet around the apartment, moving in random circles, focused on my new pretty book

--- who took me to beautiful places, rivers with mirror glows, winding down a desertic land of scorched grass and thorn bushes, scattered with tiny and fragile white flowers, all under the penetrating blue of a crushing sky, the same i've got here right now---

soon i heard a puny mew, i tried to stay indifferent, to dive deeper in what i was reading, and the meow continued, lancinating, i've seen that cat, he's familiar, and the sadness of his pitiful cry made me lean to the window, i was right, my gaze fell on the scrawny body of that black kitten, stretching, his front paws laid on a window sill below, he was begging to enter the opposite house, interrupted in my reading i was stunned, the calls of the poor creature touched my sensitivity, i couldn't move, in a sunray i paused, thinking i wanted to go down and bring him butter or ham, i wanted to make him my friend, that we tame each other, kneeled with my arm reaching out to him, he would come suspicious at first then sniff the tip of my fingers, and let me touch him, i thought him at least will give me back my care, so that's how it works, from my perch i sudenly saw him turn his sharpened head and watch me with his giant yellow eyes, with hardly no pupils because of the brigthness outside, -- a killer --, he was searching for a little shade, a little meal, a little caress, that black, that black knocked me down, hiding in my lair with a jaded attitude, pretending to be tough to my own eyes... , no, my heart bleeds easily, this simple cat surely put a scratch on it, and a tear to my soul.

This morning i impulsively thought :
"Why do i need so desperately to say what i think and feel, it's a curse!",
but i know all too well why, poor fool that i am.

Primarily
Foundamentaly
Originally

I Love

and I want to be Loved

Journey

I'm walking in a blur, still with the certainty that i will experience the streets you walked on once, i'll do it for myself, even if i have to wander around on my own, alone, will i be part of the lucky ones, will you share with me a tiny bit of that love you say you have to give, will you let me go to you, go, go, go; i'll take the pleasure on the sight of bricks, on the sweep of the wind and the kiss of the cold, on the miscelaneous lights, i see myself and it's there, in that graze, all the power i let me handle, in those streets i'll find love, i will let me be the scenery to watch you a moment, the sidewalks to massage your feet, the air to brush your cheeks and the falling leaves to rest on your shoulder, all that is with me that i want to be with you.

Over the years and through the woods

I'm not always real, there are still habits, remnants of the past, crammed in me, an old friend called me, someone i know for fifteen years now, a guy i tagged along when i was a psycho, we were the two cripples in college, we needed to get together against the others, the bullies and the ignorants, simply the stupidly wicked, that was our bond, but now, nowadays, i evolved, i am, i don't need a sidekick to stand up, i'm finding directions to explore, he on the other side followed a stiff road, the paved alley of conformity, and i wonder if that was his choice, did he really choose his wife or was it the shadow of loneliness who pushed him to get married, did he choose his job or was it the lack of intellectual aptitudes who notched him in that debilitating work without any opportunities of improvement, did he choose his holidays as a destination he really wants to go or simply because it's the common sunny islands the most displayed in the travel magazines, and so on, did he choose his appartment, did he choose his corny hobbies, is it all a matter of brain capabilities, anyway i don't need him anymore, we are too much different, as a lot of the people i know for too long, i want to believe i choose my way, the one on which i'll touch the highest bliss i'm able to feel, so when those guys call, i should stop lying, and tell them i don't feel satisfied spending time with them.

the shyness, near shame, of appearances!

We had resumed our formerly usual running on week ends' mornings, at ten the heat already began to make the air heavier;
we were arrived in her brand new car, the last model of an important company, a fancy and shiny design, she likes to change of vehicle every year;
she had the kindness to come pick me up then go in the other direction to find the shady wood in which it will be more bearable to jog;
during the trip i thought "that's not for driving she bought that thing, she's not a miles eater, her job is two miles away from her home and she takes her bike anyway, and that's surely not to come pick me up and impress me", i giggled, that would have been funny, the roles would be reversed, a woman buying a modern car to get the boys;
soon after we parked close to an hedge and laid a foot on the dry land, rising puffs of dust at each step, our backs were all sweaty just to be sat twenty minutes for the trip, she was wearing a tight stretched pants and top, both cut short, and i noticed something weird, she had tied a sweater around her waist, letting the main part fall behind like a curtain;
taking a sweater under that boiling sun??!!;
i questioned her impudently with that swift tongue of mine, and she replied embarrassed, her reddish face going down : "I don't like my bottom"
......
I spent the entire run together to correlate the showy new car with her butt, hmm... i mean with the shyness about her butt.

Fancy!

(short story)

I chased her across this big labyrinthine apartment, with high ceilings, grabing her hands in her back, wraping it in mine, smoothly sliding up to encompass her apparent shoulders, murmuring poems close to her ears, telling her my blazing excitment to reach under that sexy top without sleeves and cuddle onto her peachy skin;

Proud, with a defying spark in her glances, she lifted and turned her head away each time i tried to kiss her livid lips, shaking my grip and starting running again along the rooms, teasing me to catch her again, pleasantly smiling, falling in my arms suddenly then escaping, again, she was playing with my sentiments, she knew i was deeply lost in her trail, and i will follow her to my last breath;

All this time i was aware of a male presence, the shadow of a young man, strangely tracking us, always watching from a safe spot, a grin tearing up his face, he seemed like someone i knew, maliciously participating in our game, disturbing the intimacy, i felt i couldn't force him to leave, he apparently wasn't feeling misplaced to pry into the fantasies in action, to stare at us flirting, between the indecency of my efforts and the faked indifference of that girl;

It lasted some times, me running behind, and showing my affection through versatile caresses, and her gently pushing me aside, challenging me to come back, letting me lay my hand on her hip and my mouth on her neck, i let some more distance, pausing the game, tasting the peaceful feeling of my love, relaxing my dizzy body, i lost sight of her, with satisfaction on my face i walked the immense rooms, about to start the chase back, and soar to that addictive state, touching her fingers, her hands, her arms, her shoulders, her belly, her tighs, kissing her back, her navel, her neck, her lips, resting on her breasts, rubbing on her entire body, flesh and bones, and whispering the kind words her being makes me invent feverishly;

I walked but the rooms are empty, she's gone, she disapeared, i'm left here without any clue how to find her, nothing inside, and out by the tall windows is only a bright, blinding light.

that requiem to you people

I'm an old owl,
plucked,
compared to what i vibrate for
i'm not one to laugh with casually
please don't laugh at me neither
i'm too often out of place
probably my feelings are too
most of the time
i just want one hears the song in my heart
i think i look like a nefarious, wasteful weed
people see the rust on my skin
and they picture the filth in my brain
i cover them with
my pianist hands hold that filth
the tension of my muscles, my neglect,
that makes me an old pervert
i want to let it go
to be the second worst
behind Bukowski
to let them figure out what they want
to be one in their minds
how to situate myself
that's my problem
what i like is far out of my reach
but i feel that way
i feel that damn way
and nobody sees
there's a loving man inside the hideous beast

that's shit, my body is younger than anyone my age, i'm as vivid as a twenty years old

the Swing of Sadness and Joy

I met that couple at the party, a tall boy with a smile sewed on his face, and a pretty ginger girl, the side of her eyes were leaking down, they looked lost, watching around, who to socialize to in that room, and nothing to say to each other, that endlessly smiling boy and the forever sad girl;
i was distant, sprawled on the dark sofa in that vicious air, the guy called me, out of bore, to handle my glasses and prove the righteous impressiveness of his current studies, we will always need a good ophtalmologist... , after that little trick he left, leaving me to speak confidently with that girl he broods of his long branchy arms;
that was interesting she revealed to be out of what she looked, all decorated she was, she confessed a former knack for metal music and a sheer interest for writing and litterature, all seeming like a past life she is eager to reconquer, she jumped on that chance i gave, speaking of me and my likings with that cheerful attitude, when we paused, my chin lifted still on the side, i was pleasantly noticing from the corner of my eyes that she was turning repeatedly her head to me in a swift move before withdrawing in a sort of musing, like she was about to speak a reflection out of her chest, then containing it at the last moment, i read the need to fuel the conversation longer, a search for something intelligent to say and the limits she had to stay behind, we continued to talk, i managed my smiles and my playful gazes, if i had smiled freely, she would have released her own repressed gaiety, her own smile made of a purple crescent filled with the shiny white of her teeth, maybe even her sad eyes would have rised and shone in that shared joy, that joy to share, to be part of a new ambient unity;
they left early and i was the one they waved their hands at, saying "goodbye", the swinging couple, that insecure smiling guy and his sadness-carved face girl.

who was happy, who was sad,
what led to mark their faces like this,

what is written on mine...

i served a lot of smiles, i served my soul on a stall
i let the eyes striping me
i let the hands rest on me
and flow through my fingers
i showed them my craze
i wiped the sweat, i rolled my pupils
i was raw
i was a devil
i want to be that devil for you

let me be your devil
All of you

"Play"

It's displayed all over the social network, each time i spy on my contacts i see a new advertising for the event, it's spreading like a plague, and the easy going girls clicking "i participate" more and more, it seems so easy, you take the train, you cross the gate, you sip a beer, then you mess and mix and rub to the others, you sway around, get unconsciouss and "bite", but i don't feel to "participate", i'll be, i have to, in the corner, bare feet on the white tiles, black pants and loose shirt (losing shirt), i'm part of the event, part of the show, i'll play for them to be crazy, and slap their worries away, i'll be covered with stares, and reaching hands, push me, pull me, i'll make them cry then crave, and bang their heads side to side, we are the entertainers, there is a place for me in that fuzzy bar, set like an attic, with posters and flags hanging on the ceiling, between the weary wooden tables with calls for love engraved in, filth!, there will be a plate and a beer for me at the counter, thanks to mister "Bear", i'm expected fondly, roughly, there is a place for me and still i don't feel to set myself as "participating", i can't click as easily as others, i can't let my preoccupations out the gate, i will be there, i will be so honest, fragile, as an offering, as a sacrifice, i will be the best of prey, i don't feel to "participate", let me enter that trance and keep my mind away,
And play for myself alone.

I dreamt i kissed a blonde girl, she had sugar in her mouth, she crashed her lips on mine in a greedy and voracious burst, i slid my palm along a strand of her hair with silvery shimmers, while she laid her forearms on my back, shackling me, i remember the strong sugary flavor of her saliva, the bulge of her tongue, the dancing colored beams hiting chaotically the whitish cosy sofa and raw walls, in that lounge.
i dreamt?