The Leaves Will Fall

A promise was given to me long ago: the leaves will fall. With the first cool days of Autumn upon me, I'm reminded of the longing of my heart. Not to be confused with the longing that I have for nameless; this is something that predates him, but is not completely separate from him. Last year around this time, I was dealing with having to live alone for the first time in my life. Nameless; became my fill in the void of my alone-ness.  He became my solidarity, and was my strength in my mildly-suicidal mind; he kept me warm through the cold December from which cold winds blow.

Now, I'm facing the same alone-ness & anxiety that I had experienced before, but this time there is a missing element: him.

However, the decree of latter year equinox offers the promise that the thing that grew in the heat of this past Summer will die, and the leaves will fall. There is a foreshadowing of a new hope to come in the Spring, but in the mean time I am braced for colder winds.

I went to sleep very early yesterday. On Tuesdays I meet with an old friend, and we have a bible study; I didn't make it to our meeting.  Today is one of those days where I wake up from haunted dreams. Nameless wasn't present at all through out the night of illuminated thought, but an essence of his was. I was traveling with a group of Christians, performing as a musician. There were plenty of Christians that I knew there. I can recall playing on the stage with some of my band mates from my current gathering. Most peculiarly, however, was that the Pentecostals from Patterson were there. One family in particular was there; I've had a major man crush on this brother since I was in high school.

We were traveling to this camp-ground-like-facility. It was probably two or three hours away from my home which I believe was in Louisiana. Whatever event that was the reason of our being there was over for the weekend.

I remember leaving a note on the mirror for this guy in the bathroom to meet me in my room for some kind of sexual activity. I awoke to him on top of me; however, nothing really happened.

nameless; so much...

I miss him so much. It seems like the force and energy that I had inside of me keeping my emotions for him locked down so tightly has be dissolved. I've probably had one of the worse weekends since all of this happened some seven weeks ago. nameless; and I had gone through all of the proper channels one should before breaking up with each other the day before he killed himself. It was done correctly, but like every other time that we broke up it was like a game of hide and seek: he was the one hiding this time. I'm left counting to sixty with my eyes hidden in my sleeve, pulling away to find that he has found the most secret of hiding places. All attempts to search for him are futile.

He kept me warm.

I was his secret.

I long for him, and my heart bleeds.

I miss him so much.

Would You Like My Money??

It's so absolutely ridiculous the way our banking system works. I could sit here, and explain all of the details of why the bank took 3 NSF fees from me today. Yesterday I went in a cashed my check--that I worked for all last week--and they absorbed it for themselves. I'm sure I could tell all the reasons why they took my money, how it's all my fault, how I'm living beyond my means, or how one mistake can absolutely FUCK yourself out of having any money all week. But why is that? I think that's the most appropriate question.

It's obvious that I'm a low end sack of shit that doesn't deserve the luxury of actually getting ahead in life; or is it that I've just been stung by an unfortunate string of events that constantly keep me from moving ahead, and continuously pull me backwards.

Broke; Friday the 13th

I've been awfully depressed over my financial situation here lately.  What had done happened was I've probably been in a grand worth of debt since last year; with that, having to pay for clerical errors at Beckwith's Car Care, missing about a weeks worth of work during my job transition, and with nameless; death & the my week off that followed, I've missed a lot of work. It's amazing how much two weeks over a two month time can completely throw off everything. What are people like me supposed to do in situations like these? All of my bills are behind, I've no resources, or saved money. The best part about it is that I called my family back home, and asked for help... Needless to say they didn't reply to my messages. My expectation were fulfilled.

I think it's important to remember that forgiveness doesn't always mean reconciliation.

So what is the big deal? Am I doomed to be the victim of a cast society? Will I always be an underachiever by the standards of the American Dream?

nameless; a ghost left behind.

It's one of those mornings where I've not much to do immediately, so I find myself floating around the internet whenever I shouldn't be. It's easiest for me to land here because while I'm typing at least I look like I'm doing some work.

The truth is that I haven't had much to say. My thoughts about nameless have been easy to deal with, but have to be dealt with none the less. I find myself moving into a place where I just want to isolate myself away from everyone. Whenever people offer their condolences, it's a very nice gesture, but after a while you just don't have much to say about it anymore. My mother had been visiting her brother's in Hawaii; she just returned last weekend. She, nameless, and I would often hang out together. We would laugh, smoke pot, make jokes, and ride the streets. Now that she's home, and we've had the opportunity to talk about him and cry about him; it's been very healing.

The reality of him being gone is probably the most strange of things. A month and a half ago he and I could be found wrapped up in each other's embrace, but he's gone now. All that remains is the fading echo of a life once lived. One finds themselves reaching and grasping for whatever articles or personal effects that have been left behind in order to preserve what has been.

The truth is that I'm past a lot of the physical. Now it's just the ghost that has been left behind.

nameless; Lusting for the Dead

Lusting for the dead is something foolish indeed. I find myself longing for his body. It's a separate attraction than what makes me miss his countenance. Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber Until I realize that it was you who held me under

Felt it in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack All around the world was waking, I never could go back Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open And finally it seemed that the spell was broken

And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

Snow White's stitching up your circuit-boards Someone's slipping through the hidden door Snow White's stitching up your circuit-board

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

Snow White's stitching up your circuit-boards Someone's slipping through the hidden door Snow White's stitching up your circuit-board Someone's slipping through the hidden door

"Blinding" by Florence & The Machine

nameless; Suicide One Month Later

It's been a month since he died. I spoke with The Lord last night; just in mere conversation with Him His greatness reveals the loose ended stings that lead to my grief and heartache. I'm learning that healing is going to come only from The Lord in this. This is starting to become, what I believe to be, a great understanding. There is an outcome behind all this that is starting to show itself in the most vague of visions.

It's time to begin again.

nameless; Dream

In two days, it will have been a whole month since he killed himself.

I dreamed about last night for the first time; we spoke to each other. It was two days before he killed himself, and he looked the same as whenever he was in high school. He knew he would kill himself--or perhaps be put to death by his parents--it wasn't exactly clear. I remember him hiding me in his room before his parents came home.

There were also dinosaurs and giant explosions.

I miss him, but at the same time I can't imagine him being here anymore. It's like he was a dream, and I woke up alone.

I wish I could see him, to tell him everything that's happened in the last month; all the music I've listened too; and how much I love him, but not just as a lover--as my brother.

This is a very sad way to wake up on Labor day weekend. A very sad way, indeed.

--

Later in my day, I'm reminded of his death. As this Labor Day weekend presses forward I'm reminded that I've no real plans for myself outside of pet sitting for my sister. Not that I should have something to do, but I find myself in these small moments of aloneness where the thought passes through my head: "I'm gonna call him..." or "I wonder what he's doing." From there I'm pushed to think of the terms of his Earthly body: cold, swollen, trapped away in a box made to harbor death void of the light.

How I miss him. How my heart aches in his absents.

Death comes to us all.

nameless; Bon Iver

The more time that passes, it's as if he never existed; it's as if he and I never went through what we did. We were friends for three years, and what an intimate three years they were. This morning I don't miss him like  I did yesterday.

If he was here I would tell him that I found this remix CD for Bon Iver's last record. I would imagine that he and I would enjoy hearing it together. It's right up his ally. He had a beautiful taste in music; however, his intake of new music was very slow, so he was also one of those people still rocking the hits from two summers ago.

I can remember a time from the summer of 2011 that he and I were riding around Kingwood in his little Toyota pick-up truck after softball practice (or were we just running laps together). We had been talking about Bon Iver; the record had just come out. We listened to the whole thing as we weaved through the wooded streets of the North Houston Suburb. It's times and memories like those that I'm most thankful for. It's times like these that I began to long for long before he killed himself, and after we started having sex.

nameless; I Was Here

Haunted.

One could say I'm haunted.

Not only have the effects of grief crept up and blindsided me, but my antidepressant are about gone. I have only one pill left, no appointment with the doctor, and the "brain zaps" have begun. This is not a good time to be broke. An element of giving up or giving in is rising behind my eyes.

I miss him. About two weeks before his blunder, he and I had a conversation about us ceasing to be sexual with each other. We spoke about how it was necessary for us, if we had any intentions of moving forward spiritually in our walks with Christ. The sadness of it all is that--in this moment--and plenty other ones--he's all dream about. These dreams are not that of sexual desire alone. We held each other in sacred protection, and at times would waste much time standing in my living room wrapped in each others embrace. It was something beyond homosexuality; it was filling a need. Though we decided that it would be for the best to keeps our distance, I can recall the thick tension in the truck that evening as we spun around the 610 Loop. He didn't want to stop; neither did I.

Now that sacred protection, that rib rubbing trust, and our forbidden love has been removed in the strongest of ways. For months I'd been praying to the Lord to do something about nameless and I. I wanted out desperately because of toxicity of what he and I had become, but on the same leaf, I had no idea on how to escape; I wasn't prepared to be separated from the drug that was our love.

He's dead now. The good things are gone as well as the bad. There are no options to pick and choose from anymore. It's just over.

Experience & Experience

So to be real for a moment.

the click... or should I say these clicks. With experience comes wisdo... trut... well, really experience brings experience. The ability to remember things that you didn't have the opportunity the first time. Every lap; every round; every revolution; every year brings more experience.

One thing I've come to learn about my homosexual nature is that my expressed desire to dismiss my role in it is strongest whenever a relationship with a man ends. I immediately become disgusted with my homosexual identity, but I think the more honest answer would be that I'm disgusted with the co-dependant mask that I've created in order to sustain the relationship.

So, I go through my cubbies and spaces to rid myself that attaches me to that person; it's as if it was an effort to erase that person from my history, and trace the lines backward to the person I was before I met the man.

The past few attempts do dismiss my homosexual nature was because of the relationships that I was in was a horrible mess, but the truth is that I was homosexual before I met those men.

It's time to reexamine the evidence--and more importantly--my own motives regarding the total case for my homosexual nature and the conflict between it and my faith.

Artistry and Shifting

Artistically I'm looking at moving forward;

Before nameless died, I'd begun my third click. What is a click? It's like making full circle, or another lap around the sun; however, these moments or seasons are not defined by any specific length of time. However, they seem to occur every five to six years.

Every time one of these involuntary levels of understanding are reached, it's as if I start over on a new canvas, but knowing a little more about my gift, art, and craft. With the new canvas and new understanding, I'm able to approach my work with more control over the temperamental variables of song writing and minstrelsy. It could also be said, however, that I'm able to better create under those variables despite their measurements.

I've learned of the divination of my art;

It was something that I only suspected to exist, but--given my recent history--I know what the ultimate ramifications of it's power can be. Humility is now more necessary than it has ever been.

Three Weeks Later

I find myself thinking about my nameless love. Over the weekend I went through, and removed his name from most of my writings. His earthly self wouldn't want his name propagated as I have been publishing. Not that I have such horrible dirt on my forbidden lover, but he was my forbidden lover none the less.

I miss him this morning, not in the since of lovers, but something else. The homosexual condition is something much more than just two men falling in "love". The reality of the situation is that, for me, "love" has typically been the furthest thing from what is going on in these relationships. Codependency is probably the best way refer to it all.

Codependency is defined as a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another who is affected with a pathological condition (typically narcissism or drug addiction); and in broader terms, it refers to the dependence on the needs of, or control of, another. It also often involves placing a lower priority on one's own needs, while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others.

nameless and myself were extremely codependent on each other. We noted this problem in our relationship far before we started to have sex or go beyond standard nonsexual male on male interaction, and because of that--in early 2012--we separated as to move on with our lives; however, my addiction remained on the hunt, and wanted him alone.

Today makes three weeks that I learned of his blunder.

If Circles Could Get Over Themselves

nameless; In wild dedication

"And I see you fogging up the mirrorVapor round your body glistens in the shower And I want to stay right here and go down on you for an hour Or stay, and let the day just fade away In wild dedication, take the moment of hope And let it run, and never look back at all the damage we have done now To each other "

"Blinded"  - Third Eye Blind

Mem;

That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. Phillipians 3:10-11; I like the way that sounds./

If, by any means What so ever. I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.

That I may attain a heavenly identity I need to set my mind on the things of the spirit

Seek those things which are above.

Two Suns

Last night I dreamed of two suns. The second appears in the night sky, and burned a glowing orange that could be seen by my sister and I as we drove through the country. The heat of the new sun was so intense that I could feel it burning on my face. My sister and I embraced each other to keep from the burn. A scene somewhat similar to that of when Claudia died from exposure to the sun in "An Interview with a Vampire". It became more sinister once our original sun rose the following day. We took shelter in a cottage in the woods; an old man and woman was living there. There was also a young guy that was my age. The heat crept in through the windows, as we hid behind couches and banisters. I thought to myself, "I wonder what the internet is saying about this phenomenon", but dismissed the thought due the seriousness of the situation. I remember the guy approaching me as he was shirtless. We put our hands on each other as if we were going to have sex.

Regardless of the second sun's purpose or reason for showing up, and what potential damage it would cause to this tiny blue planet, the fact was that it was there, and there was nothing on earth that we could do to stop it's power: true powerlessness.

nameless; Purpose and Conspiracy

"Today was a good day--better than most--didn't see me no demons; didn't fight with no ghost." A thought runs through my head: What if Lester really isn't dead, but he's been hidden away by his family & the powers that be, so as to keep him from he and I's relationship. I imagine one night, while sitting on my balcony, I see him running towards my door in a panic after he's escaped from whatever place of captivity he would be in... I'm pretty sure that's denial. I assume I woke up in that place this morning: denial. However, as beautiful that moment would be, it's not going to happen. I watched them roll his body out in the black bag from his apartment: he's dead. Last night I screamed a dialog to him, "I'M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW!" Then the flood of tears followed.

My boss told me that I need some sort of purpose from this point on. Another friend told me it's a good day to focus on the blessings in my life that Jehovah has given me. It's hard, especially waking up in this place of denial. Mariah should be in town today. It's time to find some purpose, I guess. I'm tired, however, and I feel like just giving up. I feel like inviting death in to end the grief. Not death by my own means, but a natural means. All of these thoughts are fleeting, and grasping for straws. I'm still alive, and I may have more years ahead of me than I think I do.

nameless; Grief

What do you do whenever the person you've invested so much into is all of a sudden gone? I miss him so much right now. I'm tired of being human. I'm tired of dealing with loss and imperfection. I can't get him off of my mind. The scary thing is that I fear he'll be on my mind for the rest of my life: like some distant echo of a forbidden love that was never cut out to make it. I'm so angry right now; I just want to lay on the ground, kick my feet, and scream. As toxic of a situation it was, I loved him, and I sacrificed a lot to maintain our relationship as long as I could.