I enjoyed reading all of these - all the different perspectives and the intensity, events and people and feelings and where everyone's head's at

paperdollpoet- through reading your first piece i identified but it made me realise how much i value the concrete?
my piece sprung from yours..


Pisces just being Pisces:::

Nothing makes sense on paper, or the telephone. Not the escapes, not the stub-armed man in the van offering me a much-needed lift home; legs dripping with orange streaks of antiseptic, suggestions of forced sex, blood and confusion; train stations at 4am, nor the stabbing supposedly standard pain of after-laser surgical procedures performed every day of the week except June. Definitely not hospitals, doctors, wards, gerrymandering, television and airports. Engaged signals, zebra crossings, Svalbard, moss, stain-removers.

Not moons in pisces, suns in pisces, venus in retrograde, not almost everything, really. Mercury in aries though, that I can see; the warrior in me. Never say never. Never deny me. Never lie to me. Never practice in the arts of deception or you’ll find yourself sad and lonely or at the least, without me.

No right and wrong. No memory. I might as well speak gobbledygook, treat it like a fairytale. Make it make sense by leaving everything that stirs my senses, my sensitivities, make it easy. Erase the clouds. A perfect day. No, I don’t remember the world at half past 11 on the summer day I was born, leaping out only a moment shy of a once every four year birthday; ”Pisces just being pisces” I guess.

No, I don’t know why he threatened to kill me, but people don’t make comments about having participated in torture nor their gang affiliations without some ulterior intent behind them do they? And it wasn’t only me. Do I have any friends left? What’s lacking? What’s been left behind.

No, 5,000 miles is no longer a simple slap in the face, a fact, I mean that’s all I ever really wanted to do to her. Not sit down for tea, not suffer pleasantries nor pass my ring across a table in a gesture of defeat by default; fed-up with those deaf ears, lies and civility. An emptied shell, a pretence of placation. No. That opened crater in my so-called sanity wasn’t an open invite for all and sundry.

Yes, I was naïve. Still am. I know you are but what am I? A long way to go and yet I was hoping for complete honesty, without really understanding how it all adds up. Lies and truths and meaning and action and ego and negativity and interactions and relationships; space and time, events in place and company kept, no and yes; ergo it’s so far far beyond me.
When you get high, how far from earth are you in all actuality?

“how many cabs in New York City
how many angels on a pin
how many notes on a saxophone
how many tears in a bottle of gin” ………………………………….(C-Paul Kelly “Careless”)

Yes.
Over my head though
It does feel good. Sometimes.

To know I’ve made it thus far, and there’s still a ground beneath me. To know care, know how he heals and holds me, even without knowing, needing to know. Now. It must be like the future. When they’re able to finally come above ground. Like drowning in rough seas, saying goodbye, then somehow rescued and coming through to consciousness, breathing that first longed for pure air… awakening.

I could have cared less
But then I’d have felt less
I guess
“Pisces just being pisces”
Never a dull moment - I’ll do me.