Burnt Popcorn

Burnt popcorn is a disgusting smell. It permeates everything from the inside out. The air nearly radiates with it. Burning your lungs and searing your taste buds. But even beaneath the stench there lies a a pinch of desire--one can still sense the possibility of salty buttered crunchy goodness upon your tongue. So, you try to eat it.

Bluh.

Its disgusting.

And yet if you are hungry enough, if the craving is strong, you can't help but continue to attempt to eat it.
Hoping to find one soul kernel of popcorn heaven.
Unfortunately, popcorn, when burnt, seems to contaminate the whole bag; even if its just one kernel.

This is my experience with men.
They all seem to come from one big ass burnt bag of popcorn.
Now don't get me wrong. I like men...a lot. I just can't get enough of them.
That said, lets be honest. Some of them are burnt. Messed up. Tore up from the floor up and turned inside out.
And no doubt, once you encounter one like that, the taste lingers in your mouth.
Suddenly, you can't help but smell and taste the smoke in all of them.
Nevertheless, hope prevails.
The craving is strong and you convince yourself you'll find one whose taste doesn't make you sick.
But before you know it the burn begins to stick.
You too become tainted.
The cloud begins to cling to you. Your hair. Your clothes. Just sittin' all up in your nose.
Brought into the fold until you too become just another burnt piece of popcorn contaminating the bag.

Free Writes

[It would be an understatement to say...]
It would be an understatement to say, “This is complicated.”
It is obviously confusing and the sheer number of parts with which we are dealing is innumerable
They lay, this ridiculous smattering of legos and puzzle pieces, sprawled across the floor of our hearts
So many, so messy, that we each, like children, rebellious to clean-up, deny ownership, refusing to claim any part of this disaster
Our Mother, our conscious, hovers over, pushing us to reconcile within the midst of this playmate situation
We are admonished to pick-up the pieces of life
Beckoned to place them on the appropriate shelves
To store them in bins and hope chests allowing the dust of age to settle upon dreams until they gray, years past turns them nightmares
But at least this playful moment, though chaotic, still beams with youthful bliss and ignorance
We have an obvious fascination for one another
Fancying the disposition of the other above options far less laborious because the challenge leaves us elated
We thus seem fated to sit in midst of the mess
Me in this dress of frustration and you in those pants marking you for an emasculated manhood where I will become your full-time nurturer and part-time lover

[With you...]
With you, life is so easy and yet love grows more and more complicated
I’ve trained myself to ignore this ever present tension
Our friendship remains the most painful position but I am convinced that the pain is merely a sign of how much it is worth
My heart and mind are always contorted wrapped up wishing that we could once again have this conversation cause I still can’t understand why we can’t be together
Our friendship flows like water
Forging paths through uncharted territory, namely my soul
And your presence a slow moving glacier leaves me cold to the many fish of the sea
They are a poor man’s love
But despite this knowledge
I turn to him with whom life is hard but passion comes easy
Never fully being what I’m wanting his touch is just enough to fill the gap
And each morning leaves me,
Fleeing the darkness that holds emotions compressed between the twilight of night and the dawn of day
The light of the passion expressed in action and the darkness of feelings never expressed in word
You hold my heart while I hold his hand leaving me heartless bound in the flesh to another man