ofbearsandboys-blog

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

by Michael Cleary

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

BLOOD ORANGE

Split open like fresh fruit, malleable and delicate, the ridges of my brain roll between pain and zeal in seconds, a dull ache familiar to childhood and overwhelmingly empty. Juices flow from every crevice at a moment's notice and the tears brine and pickle in a way that preserves that moment for just long enough for turmoil. It's alright, they said. You'll be okay, they said. But what if okay is a state of being that I never knew for years, and one that fleeted so fast that I never had a chance to hold onto it to begin with? Seeds spill from the flesh onto the chopping block and every ounce of me is exposed to either grow or be tossed into the trash deemed useless and bitter. Splitting is what we do best, our peels gripped with our own force, ripped away from the inside, left to choose between vulnerability or consumption. I choose neither. Some of us choose to sit on a counter for others to rip us apart, acid spilling onto their hands, juicing us against our wills and grinding our zests until our bodies are nothing but bitter pith and our insides hollowed out. Some of us do this ourselves, choosing to sit in the back of cold storage, rotting and molding slowly, the white hairs of doubt and fear covering us in a warmth we cherish. I choose neither. This skin isn't for anyone but me, bright and beautiful, the color of the sun in the evenings. My pores are deep I own the dirt inside them as something that makes me whole and real. My juices are to be shared with only someone who will squeeze me gently, save my seeds, and plant them somewhere bright where it will be nurtured and cared for. My zest can be pungeant and bitter, and so can my attitude, but it's still a part of me and is to be enjoyed right along with the rest. Every fiber of ME is worth saving, sharing, and waking up to in the morning inside of a beautful glass. Nourish yourself.

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Obsessions

Obsessed with the obscene, obsessed with the clean, inside and out, pillars of doubt, check check check, wreck wreck wreck, nothing is there to scare scare scare but whittling away are my care care cares. Three is a number and past present and future, I want to stitch it shut with an even suture. The drums bang hard and keep me awake, everything around me swirls in the fake. The falsity of this demon, the hurt it brings, in harmony my rituals sing sing sings. Admit it to no one, you're crazy inside, I'm fucking done with it... I will no longer hide.

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Waning Wonders

Why am I at a loss? I've conquered everything but this one part of me, and it clings like a child. I clung as a child too, no wonder the ghost isn't so easily dismissed. A huff of this wonder and a warm hand on myself are what I needed to feel a little whole after guilt settled in for nothing in particular. We say sorry when we don't mean it, and having done nothing to warrant it, I wonder why my thoughts hold such transparency yet so much strength. I am a constant beating heart, a rabbit waiting to be swooped on, standing in a corner where there's no hole in this fence. A force that moves constantly even when standing still can't understand such a calm heart, I'm so jealous of it I could scream. I will get there. I'll have a warm interest in things once cherished, I'll spend my days okay alone, I won't anxiously hope for things that don't fix anything because ain't shit broken. You've shown me how much I mean to myself, you've breathed into me something I couldn't exhale on my own. It's a place unfamiliar and growing more comfortable by the second. The places we're going are wonderful, and we will nurture seeds for a garden in the coming months and make something together more beautiful than this ugly I see inside myself. Melt it like snow, freeze it in it's tracks, we can stop the cycle. You're my Prince, and reigning supreme is something you don't even have to try at.

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Devil

That slick black leather, suave and tight against metal teeth piercing the holes outside of me in ways that tickle the fancy and stroke the ego. Demonic, ugly, shame, shame, shame. We can't go to the candy store and lick all the lollipops anymore, it's one and done and get used to it, whore. The undressing of so many men with my eyes all day made my devil so happy, so longing, so confused at the old testament I held against myself. Flipping between you and them I found nothing but a vortex of a complex, nothing medium about it. I'm getting to that flat line, that medium, but I feel like fun is fun and love is love and hopefully you'll have fun with toys too. I don't want us attaching, but detaching because of strange cock is a strange way I deal with things, even if just fantasy because love overrides any sort of temptation. There's a piece of me who wants to watch you be as wild as I can be, who wants to see you let go and enjoy sin.

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ONLY CHILD

I'm a brat. I'm not used to being alone, and my whole life I've been caudled and taken care of. When left to my own devices, I've been a danger to my health and health of others. Now, self aware and happy with everything around me, I still find ways to criticize. Leave it to me, to wish you'd come snuggle with me by surprise and be let down when it doesn't happen or when I expect something you don't know I want. Leave it to me to overextend myself sexually and not get the response I want. I disappoint myself, you don't disappoint me. Purposely setting myself up for a letdown is a new thing for me, not quite sure when it started or how to stop it. I know one thing, I've wanted for less and less by the day and that old clock is melting by the day, because our love is limitless.

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Flatline

A death of something crippled, savage, and rough around the edges has happened and mourning it is no longer a priority or a consumption. Instead I fill with vibrancy and promise and tiny doubt is dismissed with notions and smiles. There is nothing but forward from here, the base is flat and the time for ascension is upon both of us. I've no doubt that with our hands intertwined we can pull it into fruition. The pick aparts, the obsession with the temporary, the focus on the alternative has been drowned out with your catchy tune you've got repeating from your lips, or the touch of your hands on the small of my back. Ready for your heartbeat, I wake with no barrier with warm sun and parted curtains, looking at the birds and your yawns to start my day.

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

Things I Love

My self awareness, even if it can be painful. Our quiet nights with candles and hot n ready pizzas, good movies, and raucous behavior. The way you drive through parking lots ignoring the lines. Our forgetfulness. Your perfect nose, your gleaming smile. My willingness to work through my madness to make myself better for us. The special things I find in my room after work. Those moments you touch my shoulder when you know where my mind went to ground me. The times you hold my hand when I'm upset because we're connected. The kisses in the cold rain. Your devotion to your mother and your family, and your dedication to yourself and others. Our penchant for making fun of celebrities and shopping for thrifty things together. Your tolerance of my non PC behavior. Our cats. Our tree. The way you have to wash your hands after getting them sticky because you just can't stand it. Your cooking methods of throw it in the pot it'll turn out great. I love everything so much, no wonder I've hurt lately. Getting used to warmth is hard for those used to cold nights alone in spirit and in reality.

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

Wrapped

Inside of a box there's always a piece of tape you can slit open and peer out to see who put you inside, a border to bang on for release, and a darkness that's criminal. It's a place where you're safe and beautiful because no one's opened you yet and can't see the unwanted gifts or flaws in the content. The unknown has always been inside of the box, waiting for the paper to be ripped off and for fate to cut the tape and pry open the lid once and for all. Anticipation becomes excitement becomes anxiety becomes guilt becomes sadness becomes the holidays. We have a picture in our minds of what we want cheer to be, what we expect, what we crave. What we don't have is the present in which it's opened before us, and the latter makes life's puzzle a piece short from being complete.

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

Dichotomy

My heart races, my mind erases, the worn down smears of the many faces. The tried, the true, the old, the new, nothing replaces this time with you. A whisper of past can trigger a guilt, fine portraits of lusts painted dirty with silt. A reminder of now, of here, of us, the flesh fades away in a chorus of dust. There's a place in the front grabbing for help, and my mind in the back putting books on a shelf. The pages turn, burn, empty themselves onto a floor, gathered at my feet in litters of bore. Creatures of sadness find respite in pain, a hardship pokes through like a needle to vein. The rush of a promise is enough for a doubt, a mind full of worry so swollen with gout. A childish reminder to clean up my toys, and at the end of the day, boys will be boys. Men will be be men and sin will be sin, and nothing feels better than the power within. The smiles aren't forced, aren't feigned or spread open, the warmth that surrounds me not borrowed or broken. Your hands always cold, wrapped around me in slumber, six months with a phone, your company, your number. I lie here plugged, waiting for use, and your conscious shows me it's been my noose. A closeness not gained from trials of the weak, those demons didn't care, know, or speak. They filled and took and hid in plain sight, edges so sharp stabbing future with fright. A menace to them, to me, to you, disappearing with every heart felt woo. A touch, a kiss, a hand in my hair, little soft punches to my back in the air, a smile beams over to a face with care. The thousands of times I feel amiss and upset, could never replace when we met. The spark won't fade, and WE won't let it, and I in turn, will never forget it.

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

Beard goals

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Daddy.

Meant to take a G pic butt didn’t see the mirror :o Oops ;)

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♡ me n bae

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Me every day

[ofbearsandboys-blog]

SAFETY

I should've left it alone at advice, ran with the natural, and said no to the pharmaceutical. Learning is important for everyone, and I've learned a lesson of mental anguish most don't get to experience. Shivering in the shower, gripping my body and clamming up feeling like I was about to explode with anxiety and thoughts of self sabotage and harm, the self is challenged to the core and stripped away to nothing. In this chasm of fighting and hurt, digging for answers and realizing mistakes aren't covered by medicine, pain didn't win. There's nothing wrong. I simply couldn't accept that I deserved love, not what I was filling myself with temporarily all these years that I equated with it. Hurting you hurt me too, because every word I breathed was false and picking you apart and making excuses is what that devil does best. You don't deserve it. Not a piece of my failures as a man should be taken away as truth in statement. I wonder sometimes if we can erase it, start fresh without my stabs and jabs, but I can only hope you forgive me. Challenging myself is a sport I'm not winning at lately, and challenging you is always a losing game because you've already won me over. A woman who was due this week came through my line, and I kept thinking about how great it is that you're here, and that you were brought into this world to make everyone laugh, smile, and be the caring man you are. You deserve better, and I'm determined to be it, for myself, and you. ♡