We both miss your mother (part two)

Those blue eyes
of yours. They remind
me of her. The soft touch
of her skin, and the clicking
needles of the skein
becoming another useless
scarf. This bed

I lie
in, is another reminder
of her. The cold empty
space she once occupied,
the cat reminding me,
I only wanted another dog,
not another animal I couldn’t
relate to, in the house.

But your soft
padding towards the bathroom,
on this warm summer night,
I hear. I work the pillow for
coolness, as I try to sleep.
The residue of reality fades
as the door opens. Your wide
blue eyes stare in the darkness
as stare at the clock in the distance.

I have needed to oil
that hinge, but it allows
me to hear you, Rainbow
Bright, and your doll “Bunny”
enter into the solitary room.

You cry as I pull away
to clean myself off. I
hear those tears, and the cat
scratching at the litter
box when I wipe the cum
off my cock with the cheap,
store-brand toilet paper.

I am a Fish.

“You must write what you want to write, staying as close as possible to what the truth is for you, as much of the time as possible”
-Judith Arcana

This quote, by a woman I never heard of before, is true in many different ways. There is one prime example that I will show.
Believe it or not, it has to do with the events that have transpired of late in creative writing class.
Creative writing is not from the mind. To be truly creative, one must spew forth from the heart. How can one be creative in a structured environment? The truth of the matter is that one cannot be free while at the same time being fettered by mindless restraints. Creativity can have its limits, but not iron chains holding it.
In this woman’s quote, we see the truth of the matter. The truth for me is that I’d much rather be free. Essays such as this hold me back in ways that I don’t really appreciate. Let me ask you something. Would you rather see a tropical fish in a tank, or in its natural environment, swimming amongst the tropical reefs. Personally, I would enjoy scuba diving and seeing the fish swim free. How can someone enjoy a fish swimming in a tank? It is not free. The only place that you find a contented fish is free, in the open ocean, with no limits on where it can travel.
The point I am making is the truth for me, all the time. I want to say this. I am a fish. Once, long ago, I swam in the open ocean. I had no limits on the creativity that flowed from my heart, only directions to guide me to some uncertain point. That is what I desire. If you know where you’re going, why bother with the journey? My paper was that, a one-way trip to a dull form essay. I broke the chains, and now it is a unique creation. If these essays continue, the class will become a school of fish, trapped in an aquarium with no room to move. We have no freedom.
The hurdles placed upon us are too high to defeat, and our morale is broken. I congratulate you. Your purpose is served. Where once we swam free, we now have no desire to swim at all. The limits are too much to overtake, and we submit to you. Let us do the books. Let us swim free.

You are the guardian of my sins

You are the guardian of my sins
In you, I trust wholly.
In you, I have a confessor.
I have a confidant.
You are a source of my joy
In you, I have a light for life
In you, I have a companion.
I have a comrade.
You are the shoulder I need.
In you, I feel safe
In you, I have compassion.
I have consideration.
You are my best friend
In you, I have nothing else to ask.
In you, I have warmth.
I have light.