Call This... “Us”

To the present day “Joanna”s:

On behalf of those with your ear and not your attention; towards the benefit of those with your attention and its spoils; for your health and happiness; because of our unheard desires: see thyself as those with your ear do -beautifully badass. Let not your heart wander so far as you to forget that... for those with your ear turn to whispers the farther away you drift, and those whose possess your attention are not promised to be attentive.

Don’t lose sight of yourself; nobody in this world is worth you losing your shit. There’s no reason to act jealous, be possessive, and allow yourself to become sad and desperate. If someone doesn’t like you, who fucking cares? Find one who does. If your significant other makes you feel like shit — they’re fucking shit — bury them in a sandbox, forget about ‘em, and move on. Don’t be like Joanna of Castile. Don’t ruin your life and your reputation with insecure obsession . . . Born in 1479, Joanna (Spanish spelling, “Juana”) was the third child of Queen Isabella of Castile and King Ferdinand II of Aragon. But this royal privilege didn’t stop her from working hard to improve herself. As a young woman, she spoke six languages, excelled in religious studies, was active in equestrian sports, played music, and could dance with the best of them. Plain and simple, Joanna was a fucking badass. She was smart AND beautiful; this obviously attracted the attention of men. And, in 1496, she married Philip of Habsburg, also known as “Philip the Handsome.” Seriously, the dude’s nickname was PHILIP THE HANDSOME — are you fucking kidding me? He must have looked like Idris Elba and Ryan Gosling had a baby the height of Dwayne The Rock Johnson. My point, even Philip’s handsome ass wasn’t worth “losing it." But, Joanna couldn’t resist, she let her imagination get the best of her and became paranoid that he was going to cheat. Her insecurities intensified and her mental instability grew evermore apparent around the kingdom. She was like a fucking vulture, constantly swarming over Philip, checking his iPhone, and demanding his email passwords. Needless to say, it was sad to watch. She was once such a smart, intelligent, confident woman. Not even Philip’s surprise death in 1506 quelled her insecurities. She wouldn’t allow nuns to approach his corpse before his burial — afraid he’d put his ghost boner in one of them. In the end, Joanna of Castile became known as “Joanna the Mad,” leaving behind a reputation of being pathetically jealous, instead of beautifully badass. Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome. Now, enjoy your Sunday, you beautiful idiots. #SUNDAYSCHOOL

Continue to enjoy your immediacy, your wanted moments, your convenient satisfactions, your less offered infatuations, you right now

Although the statement of “the whole world does not revolve around you” is a truthful statement... its delivery and sentiment is bestowed upon one as spiteful and controlling and imposing on one’s motivations... therefore I intentionally repeat:

Continue to Enjoy Your Immediacy, Your Wanted Moments, Your Convenient Satisfactions, Your Less Offered Infatuations, YOU, Right Now!!!

-Pati3ntWo1f

Statement of Intent

You okay if I take some of that weight on my shoulders and I intent-fully commit myself to your honest expression - as a form of homage to self, respect, recognition, reverence, release, restructure, renew, reenergize, … and potentially so many other plusses that there can be no minus….? May I? Yes?

Statement of My Intentions:

I intend to not pressure but be an available reminder. I intend to not burden but to ease. I intend to not limit or define or expect. I intend to accompany, to balance, to provide presence and mutuality. I intend to do more by doing less. I intend to serve and not be served. I intend to stand in the gaps where i fit and be a reinforcing echo of your own intentions. I intend to be weightless but felt as support, safety, encouragement, reassurance. I intend to be complimentary and accepting of you as you are, however you are, wherever you are (in mind or spirit or emotion) at any given time.

- pati3ntwo1f (080322)

So even-though it is torture, because my dream cannot be completed... i will do it anyway, because the dream is worth enough, worth the pain and burden of never being fulfilled... and those few moments - although incomplete - are so enriching and magical. If i am left to only feel partially and woefully, then so be it, because i cannot deny my desire to feel. I’ll be the sad story and tragic ending that troubled souls cure their moments of loneliness in, when they hear it or see it. I’ll be the warning of what to avoid and how lifeless and bleek things can really get. I’ll be the bottomless abyss, the void, the emptyness and hopeless and romantically make them my home... and the opaque that, by contrast, gives the heroic, redemptive, compassionate, enduring, triumphant, joyful, desirable, fulfilling, optimistic, happy-ending stories their array of emotional fragrance, their textures of enjoyability, their sweet palpability and enticement - their thrill, their signs of life and worth living.

- pati3ntwo1f (091120)

10112019

I’ll state my intentions like they were a poetic password to be played off of my lips sincerely and into your ear sweetly...

an offering, to your goddess, of my soul - to come and taste of it and know that i am one with my truth...

I will bow and kneel, submitting myself to your waist... pleading with my wet lips upon yours for your acceptance - of me - to moisten and flow and grant me access to you, yours, heaven...

I’ll play praises upon your vessel with my fingertips, positioned around you like one would be if passionately playing the cello - as a cellist is to their instrument - your body being my instrument that i focus on; study on; practice on; repeatedly earning my way from “a gifted talent, yet a Passionate Novice” to “Purely remarkable Professional” to “Mastery”... mastering the art of keeping you with me, safely, ever-prepared, and In Tune... mastering the personal connection and the art of this instrument -your vessel - to the point inwhicb either of our names is inseparable from the other... and on demand or at whim i can bring angelic vibrations, in the form of pleasure’s song, up from within you and resounding out from you... a symphany of sensations made by two acting as one.

-Pati3ntWo1f

Crazed

I'm crazed by how the thought of you overwhelms my immediately/ and expodiciously exposes my vulnerability exceedingly/ needing this fix, shock, wake up call/ to awaken my ability to be enthralled/ shock becomes awe as numb becomes dumb/ to the sensation that mundane can make ones sensation become/ u conquered (my defenses) I saw (felt u while senseless) we came (and climax consistent)/ forever changed (ever-present and persistent)/ for I thought and dreamed and knew you/ I wished and believed and knew you/ I doubted and denied, coward and lied to myself in the face of your truth/ knowledge of you is spiritual, protecting you is ritual/ wanting you is now habitual, as the idea of living without you is minescule/

-Pati3ntWo1f

Cray… how a few typed words spark anticipation’s all-be-it accepted agony

I’m feeling her shadow

Again…

Anticipation is blind to Surprise and on sight, I was

Brain willing my body to “be cool. Be cool. Ice cold.”

While My heart beat accelerates “0 to 100 real quick”

I no longer break eye contact for your preference but for my own… prescription, to dull the extent of my vulnerability

Already lost in time, and dismay - 100% felt, 0% displayed… i should know better

The words thought for me are empty aught to be. Actions prove accordingly. Always have and will always be. If its not Mutual than there’s no Treason… yet myWants needs no Reason… to keep believing, my hopeless dreaming

Ripping the bandaid I walk away to step outside and see the sky acting as my eyes cannot. But feel as they could.

Its not sadness. Nah… it is. But its not, tho. It not the outcome drives my eyes to envy the sky right now…

It is my fault, my fallacy, my fiction… It is

The excess of my excessiveness…

Of these feelings.

-pati3ntwo1f (032822)

900 words

I see - easily - 900 of the thousand words a photo is worth

And each one is a word of praise

To your effort and success

To your intent and vulnerability

To your compassion and critique

To your honest expression

To your physical beauty

To your mental wonderland

To your spiritual depths

To your loving heights

A pic is worth 1000 words…

And a 900 of mine are expressions of why I love you!

-pati3ntwo1f (012625)

“The magic of your waters... sweet and refreshing. The majesties of the wonderland that is your body, its valleys and peaks... breath-taking. The twinkle in your eyes, tempting me to look deeper and longer into the universe behind your eyes... mystifying. And i know this place is home... because that moon - same moon that’s in your sky - glows in my memories and dreams.” -Pati3ntWo1f

Thanx @geyashvecova for the inspiration!

Design graphics Geya Shvecova (Neon Arctic Ice_211019)

Questioning Butterlfies

“After the determined caterpillar climbs its heights and death defyingly dangles from its limbs and commits to a CrossFit Games effort to cocoon itself… there is nothing to say that its cocooned transformation is painless. In a state too vulnerable for the everyday elements it exists in, left with a shield like barrier and itself, it submits itself to a process that literally resculpts its entire being. And there is no evidence that it just slumbers peacefully; or basks - spa like - im a sauna of in-depth and intrinsic and intimate transformation. Physically and mentally. This being is being equipped to fly. One, that could only walk, is now expected to be adept to and have the awareness of one whose means of transports is inexperienced and virtually unfathomable. And there is no evidence that this transformation is painless. As such, I no longer imagine or anticipate my transformative moments or years to be pleasant, or calm, or comfortable. I now prepare for the fears of vulnerability; the burns of recasting my metaphorical heart; the blunt traumas of forced change; the spasms of exhaustion; the fatigue of trying to understand and link past, through my present into my future. And there is no promise that I can even fathom the awareness, comprehension, and/or the innate instinct that i will become. I wish that I could ask the transforming caterpillar: ‘What keeps you going? Do you even know what a butterfly is? Do you even want to change?’ Because I have been burdened, I have climbed and begun to cocoon myself (out of instinct, off of reaction) and amidst being fully committed to seeing this transformation through - I’m finding myself vastly under-aware and under-prepared… and that is slowly becoming okay. I remind myself to, ‘Trust your Nature’... and then… forcefully Trust my Nature , again… until I have transcended form - anew.” - Pati3ntWo1f (09132019)