"These are the tales of a 20-something young "man" in discovery of means to balance being an adult and being fabulous at the same time, while exploring his potential for either, or what they both mean. Everyday is a quest to understand oneself; their entity, state of mind, success, sexuality, sociality, emotions, assets, inner peace, and conflicts, in order to support, motivate, cherish, provoke, and protect that life which he so vehemently tries to explore the purpose of...or prospects, its exciting."

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Titus Androgynous

Titus Androgynous
© Titus Ezekiel Abad

Monday, December 2, 2013

the storm inside

     Sometimes I notice that I feel colder than usual, and its not because of the weather, its because of the things inside of me or the hidden entities in my life that are nipping at my constricted capillaries right down to the very blood flow of my body, crippling and hindering my movement, my motivation, my hopes and dreams and whatever abilities I though I might have.
     Sometimes this coldness happens for an instant and I can shake it, laugh it, or cringe it away, other times it ensues and tangles me into a fatigue of anxiety, uneasiness, and well, basically a black hole. My mother might ask me to clean something, my fathers' presence, his very footsteps ricochet through my body, I become alert in a heightened sense of, despair? Despair yes, because the cold immobilizes me, I become nothing, I cannot act, I cannot do, I don't know how. I loose my way, And no cigarette, no bust, no cup of coffee, liquor, or whatever pill can change it.
     Somehow he would have to activate something inside of him, a hidden warmth, reserve of energy, maybe ignited by some sense of purpose. But what purpose, what purpose could he possibly have lying therein an array of stream-of-consciousness ideas, and unspoken conversations with alter egos inside his head? Goose bump hills cascading upwards as more of these memories, nightmares, and truths unveil themselves to wed only his mind without a witness.
     Life continues to go on in all places around him oblivious to whats happened, or has happened, or is still happening inside. Flip a switch they say, a perfect lie, a perfect transgression that only enflames his demons more. Once upon a time I used to have a self that could take charge? Once upon a time maybe he could have stood up and walked away in a better direction, instead now he dances in some temporary sanctuary, but against this frigid mist, against these cold winds that never seem to stop billowing towards him, my candlelight can only flicker, wax, and wane, until it goes out. Maybe it has gone out. Maybe it just needs to be relit...

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