Oh misery
Once all I had was my love and my work. One to fuel my passion, and one to loose my fire. Now I lie here at the climax of something incredible; to be proud of and to be grateful for, and yet I am more numb than ever.
I don't want to see it, I'm disgusted by anything I have touched. What was once such a source of pride and achievement is now no more than a sticky hindrance; sand in my gears.
Losing both my fuel and my fire, I don't know where I am. What should I do when all seems to be so opaque. In the past a direction has been clear; a path to seize and a hilt to grasp. Now I see nothing. I am tired and unhappy, and I have no clear remedy for that. I could once again lie and pretend all is well, but that makes me feel ill. When I am dishonest my dreams explode, more prolific than before, with a violent fervor I fear so. Instead I am honest, I do not want and I do not need. Oh misery.
I've never had to lie; I love! I crave, I need! No matter how fruitless my efforts or how dire my circumstance, I was true. For love, and for what is next I will enjoy the letting of blood. Now, even with a hopeful escape hatch provided, an honest hope for a hand is no longer.
Oh lust, where hast though gone? Oh hope, why have you left me? At last, I may have given up. What a shame, what a loss.
Neverending moments (thank you)
Neverending moments; fleeting but not lacking. Whose noose coiled tight? Not mine! Which hand held tight. Yours! Thank you for the welts upon my skin, and for the marks left within my kin. Long branches crawl to sparkling stars while comets rain down through snatching fingertips. Bright lights, city signs, and bricked streets soon return to me. I look to my everyday, this holy manor I get to be. Whether short and sweet, or long and tender, it's of no matter. I am grateful for the sweet sin of pleasure and pain that I let drip down my chin. I'm awake, I'm alive, and I laze in winding rivers of the ecstatic centre. Thank you for sharing; I feel alive.
A poem about sitting on sun covered grass.
Whose heart could be so cold while mine is so full? Black pants; sun felt through. Long breaths as breeze catches in my rags. Deep shores pull great walls of wind towards me; never ceasing. I miss the valleys, but oh how I worship standing above the sea. Hold me tight, ye mountain tall. Hold me down on grassy knolls so muscled. I feel anchored here, like a solitary stone holding out against mighty seas. Build me a tower on its brim, build me a fortress from its stoic stability. Let me stare into the sun, let me breathe in its lust. Oh life, how you make me whimper!
Tell me something
Tell me what you think, tell me what you know. I'll be here ear turned in your direction as long as I need to catch up. Small doses, no overflow. Basin catched more than fallow fields could bear. Small hands grasp against vines tied tight around breathes barely caught. Who's realm is this? So constrictive while every breath is free. No hands tear through my throat, no hands stealing air not yet caught. Why then must I think so effortlessly, and speak with such force…
I do it because I am free! I do it because I am pee-bee.
Tell me something pee-bee, tell me your name.
king for a day
The series of three instant photographs is a collaboration between pee-bee and Latina, captured in the heart of spring, 2026. King for a Day attempts to capture a distillation of the beauty found in growth within a partnership, and the sense of safety that can emerge between two deeply intertwined people. Over the past two years, pee-bee and Latina relocated to the island and began weaving a new life together. Latina is primarily focused on her work in science, studying environmental genetics, while pee-bee is, at last, fully devoted to developing new bodies of artistic work in their new nest together.
Closest friends,
hands held tight.
Lovers breath,
in arms so right.
