"when nothing has changed in your life"...

 "when nothing has changed
in your life"...

-school of seven bells - heart is strange

when everything has changed
but nothing has changed
different location
different faces
different job
different "no job"
different friends, different spends
different "you", different truths

different dates
different dare to be hopeful
sit and waits
different, but
the same "forced" strangers
same awkward conversations
(so many people hiding so much anger)

same new ends
without any want
any chance for any kind
of anything, begin....

off the "dating" app treadmill
off the anti-social on social media spell
surgically opening my psyche,
"cracked hell",
looking back, trace the facts
for where it was i went wrong
and fell...

apart
inner crumble
took the wrong turn
as "the right one of course",
so i tumbled..

downward, inward
"warped pup, batter up"
to hit my ball, far out, left field
the fucked up shit we do to ourselves
in some bizarre attempt
to work through our wounds and heal

guess what?
the darkness, a devouring effect
and no prism of light,
is beheld, while gorgeous, to be perfect

so, the search, an infusion
of human allowance, flawed
more nuance, less illusion
chaotic chords, inner wiring, a mess
"the shit that arouses me,
when i get undressed"....

or,
a pavlovian dog
when the right voice, right vibe
his song spoke, silent knowing, sung
then my bell well oiled, conditioned
well groomed, salivate heart, rung...

"no one wants a bitch like you,
giving all your power so easily",
best friend says,
stings, confuses me with (his?) truth..

"i guess I'm a bit twisted,
so rare is the chance, I'll be loved,
but i mean well, so there's gotta be someone that gets me,
my kinda devoted, kinda bent, but wholehearted impassioned love"....

right?

no idea.
but it doesn't look good.
all the errors, mistakes
all of my perpetually
"too much" mixed with misunderstood

as i count all my failures,
fuck ups, within
the list, damn, it's long
"...yet...if...only..i..could"....

change my life...

I'm the only one
who can change my life..

from the inside out,
my mixed up wiring
that misinterprets meanings
that feels so many god damned
poetic, intense feelings...

about shit no one cares
molly ringwald's "fresh horses" poster stare
book of love's, they never made it,
fifth record
tatum o'neal's problematic past,
childhood, chequered...

and all the wounds
and scars of others,
the true friends, not friends
but really lovers

and the men, few, I've fallen
that i make, treat like gods
I'm worshipful
to that rare connect feeling
as in, it's a gift, and i know it
to me profound, so fuck me
"floored, so moved, hit the roof,
through the ceiling"...

met hundreds of guys, in my life,
fucked a third
so when i tell you, it's rare
to feel love,
i honestly give you my word

i may be broken,
but my word is not
all the liars and the loveless
the bullshit they reap,
it cannot be forgot

problem is, i confuse
feeling a sense of love,
at times, for finding it, love
but believe me,
I've paid, twice that price
and so what if my dick gets hard
over being called names
some would say are not so nice...

to each his own
on the "go it alone"
the lucky ones, they find it
with another, that sense of
being so, together, "at home"..

so yes, i am trying
take a true, transforming look inside
but the laws of a good man,
i will always strive, no matter how
damaged i am, in my head,
soul, to abide

change the bullshit i perpetuate,
my end
and to the ones i love
who read this shit

thank you, your time,
heart, precious to me,

and real affection, your reflection
of beautiful,

i send.


bowen hart roselli
10 september 2020
ringwald love