Tank-Headed

[possibly inspired by real events]

“You need to dodge.”
“I’ll be fine, it’s nearly dead.”
“So are you. Dodge.”
“No.”
“You are deteriorating faster than I can heal you. Just dodge.”
“I suck at it!”
“You’re going to suck at surviving in a few seconds.”
“I can kill it first!”
“Why can you not use the other joystick to simply move out of the way??”
“That slows down my kill time. I can handle it.”
“Did you put any points into dexterity at all?”
“Of course not. I pumped it all into strength and constitution.”
“This could be why you’ve died five times more than I have.”
“I still level up. Once my stats are high enough I’ll be fine.”
“When you hear the word ‘tank’, do you not also picture a mobile armed attack unit?”
“Pretty sure your skills reset already, you wanna heal more and harp less?”
“No, I want to address the underlying player health issue here.”
“Really?”
“Dodge, or I will stop healing you.”
“Let me die and you’ll have no one to pull aggro.”
“Alas, if only I had a living, moving tank.”
“Fine, we’ll both die together.”
“I hear I will still level up.”
“Whatever.”
“Indeed.”
″...”
″...”
“Is there a block button? Maybe I can block.”
“You’re actively trying to provoke me now, right?”

Coping Mechanisms

I've done all I can 
Meditation 
Breathing 
Exercise
Nutrition

I've tried, I swear
Clean living 
Cutting back 
Stepping out 
Thinking hard

I've got nothing 
No clue
No ideas
No hope
No excuses

Because it's still beating 

And 

It won't stop
 
For you. 

Blind Love

I love people.
I hate intolerance and injustice.

I love white people.
I hate racism, particularly from long established standpoints of cultural privilege where it is the most harmful.

I love men.
I hate toxic masculinity and patriarchy norms.

I love peacekeepers.
I hate systemic abuses of power from positions of authority.

I love civil servants.
I hate political diatribe, corruption, and empty rhetoric.

I love hard workers.
I hate the notion that one’s work ethic or ability defines their worth as a human being.

I love people of faith.
I hate blind devotion to traditions that cause others harm.

I love businesses.
I hate unfair oligarchies and market practices which favor the few over their fellows.

I love the ignorant.
I hate the belligerent refusal to educate yourself.

I love the educated.
I hate self-righteous bullying over common sense and decency towards others.
------------------------------------------------------------
I may love blindly
But I must hate with precision.
’Lest the things I hate
Turn the things I love
Into perpetrators
Rather than vessels for change

Healthy vs Unhealthy Distractions

Alright – I think I hate Twitter.

Well – let me clarify: I think I hate Twitter for any discussion which requires serious thought or consideration.

The issue with discussing serious topics in a format of only 280 characters lies not only in the lack of obvious ability to say much in 280 characters, particularly on social issues which are complex and multifaceted – the easy shit like “Hey, let’s be less racist”, like that works – but also in too much sharing of individual experiences, too much skewing of individual experiences to fit generalized world views, and not. enough. context. ever.

Like so much lack of context. No wonder everybody’s so angry / anxious all the time, you get to hear just the good, the bad, and the ugly – and most of it’s ugly.

I do however enjoy the jokes, the random thoughts (thoughts – not opinions), and the ideas. These things fit well in a 280 character format, and often require little to no real context because they’re just there, you throw them out and see if they fall flat or not. Like pasta on a wall.

Therefore while I told myself this in the beginning – I’m new to social media, honestly, and obviously I’ve mucked it up my first go and hey let’s be real I may muck it up a few more times – moving forward when I feel the need to Tweet I will try to ask myself the three queries above: Is it a joke? Is it a random thought and NOT an opinion (i.e. does it start with the words, “I wonder” or “I believe” or “Sometimes” or “Maybe”, engendering the idea I am not sure/knowing but am pondering only), and lastly is it an idea.

Now, I won’t say whether it needs to be a good idea, bad idea, dangerous idea, or stupid idea – that’s subjective thinking right there. Just any idea, really.

Also – I must watch myself on these points particularly when REPLYING to things because knee-jerk reactions are painful and only add fuel to the fire which is our globally-warmed collective social conscious.

…maybe I’ll only check Twitter on days that start with a T.

The Stuff Legends Aren’t Made Of

The daft elf stood, stark and pompous, like a tree barely bending to the wind. The wood of his bow curved tightly around slender hands that could barely grip a sword let alone a proper weapon. I imagined smashing the bow but not the hands - I’m not that much of a monster. 

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.” In some all-knowing voice, as usual. Thinks he knows everything just because his precious ears curl upwards like fancy head ornaments. 

“Are you sure?” I always ask, not because he’s not - he always is - but because I enjoy the irritation in his expression from being questioned. 

“Of course.” He denies me my pleasure. Asshole. 

I grunt in my usual form of communication and pick up my axe - the only true partner I’ll ever have - and heft it over one shoulder. Sure, I’m posturing - but this idiot does that every second he breathes. “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” 

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?” He smirks and I really, really reconsider smashing some bits of him. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” I grin with all my teeth - especially the pointed ones I get from my father - and his expression falls a bit. Ha. Take that, toothpick. 

-----

I can feel her gaze on my back and I know she’s already judging me. I’m too scrawny, too pale, too adorable. She’s written me off probably a thousand ways in a thousand imaginary death scenes. Gods I hate her. 

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.” I never let her ruffle my feathers. I was raised as a ranger, a noble profession, and without my expert guidance her elephantine ass would be lost in these woods. 

“Are you sure?” She always questions me. I hate it. It’s like she doesn’t even listen to me the first time I speak. Or else she’s just trying to goad me into anger - a purely infantile emotional response. I’ve fallen for it before, in moments of weakness. But not now. 

“Of course.” I keep my face calm and serene, always calm and serene. Don’t let her get to you, I remind myself for probably the hundredth time.

She makes a sound indicative of her upbringing before adding, “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” Always on the move, that one. Probably outrunning some inner demons from her past. She looks like the brooding type. I should have listened to my father and not gotten invovled with people who carry so much emotional baggage.

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?” I don’t just smile - I smirk. She can tell the difference. She judges me enough she’s probably catalogued all my expressions. Stupid half-orc. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” She flashes those teeth - those awful, pointy teeth, the stuff of nightmares - and for a small second I feel a tingle down my spine as I remember exactly what her people are capable of. The people my people helped create, I admit to myself a half-second later, lest I fall victim again to my own bigotry. Her existence is as much my father’s fault as her own. 

I still hate her though. 

-----

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.”  The noble ranger declares, his bow cocked and ready for a fight. His long hair whips in the wind and he strikes a truly noble pose, indicative of his good genes and upbringing. He is the last of the Willowbenders, defenders of the Halls of Eyria. To travel with him is an honor and a delight. 

“Are you sure?” Our fearless leader questions. She was born to lead. Her thick armor hides a noble heart, born out of a forbidden love that brought together the humblest salt of the Earth and the harshest of its so-called defenders. Even the Willowbenders are not without sin, after all. 

“Of course.” His keen sense of direction can never be wrong. 

The daughter of the abhorred makes a deep noise that rumbles in her heavyset frame, her natural strength on display as she shifts her axe over one shoulder with ease. The power in such a motion cannot be understated. “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” 

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?”  The verbal volley is expertly thrown, the companionship between these two respected warriors palpable. I hold my breath, waiting for magic to happen. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” And there it is! She’s obviously flirting with that expression - such sexual dominance, a Willowbender should be so lucky. I swear I can see a small flush crawl up his ears as they both turn towards the path ahead, the chemistry between them lost to our quest. One day, perhaps, when the world allows them to lay down their weapons, this thing between them might rekindle into the fire that longs to consume them both. 

“Hey - bard. Are you coming?” Oh dear - they’ve spoken to me.

I clear my throat nervously, “Oh, right! Just jotting down some inspiration, maybe some ideas for an edda or two. Coming!” I quickly finish my scrawl and leap to my feet. 

There is no rest for the stalwart witnesses to history. Someone must chronicle these moments, these hidden thoughts and emotions, lest future generations forget or worse disregard the bonds that draw us all together. 

Dominant

So easy
just to give in
and feel
power
unabated
unchecked
unfettered
flowing through veins like fuel in an engine
a heart
on fire
with no
fucks
doubts
checks
just total certainty
unbound by the chains of day-to-day life
a wolf
in
sheep’s clothing
stalking
grinning
biting
howling
as the herd parts like waves before me
You know
I could
crush
you
consume
you
conquer
the very edges of your lush plains of flesh
my eyes
glowing
like
ember
before my flames burn through your core
my hands
pulling
apart
the pieces of you
one-by-one
...until
You look back at me
with
absolute
trust
And it is I
who fall
shattered.

Kick Your Shins

You suck. 
You're argumentative. 
Fully negative. 
Selfishly attentive. 
A short fuse chasing a spark.

You drive me nuts. 
Like metaphorically. 
Probably actually. 
Maybe literally.
Draining every sane light with your dark.

You got history. 
Lots of neglect.
Not much respect.
Already wrecked. 
Yet you never give up the fight.

Except for the social. 
Honesty brutal. 
Personality duel. 
Resistance futile. 
It's take you or leave you, alright.

You love me.
You don't show it.
Think I know it. 
Afraid to blow it. 
Or too stubborn to give me up.

You still got me.
Little tired. 
Caffeine wired.
Temper fired. 
My kicks to your shins ain't let up.

On Your Bones

Those hips though 
really 
slope so smooth
hugging planes 
outlining grooves 

Where lips or fingers
beg to 
touch 

I won’t press hard
or linger 
much 

Those hips though 
really 
hold up fine
over the bed
underneath mine 

Where bodies join 
align 
as one 

Much like our love -
not easy, 
fun

2 AM

It’s 2 AM 
And I know 
I should send you home 
...but
you live three hours away 
in the mountains
with snow

what if you crashed?
and this became our first
and only date
I can’t risk it 
Nope
Not now 
so...

It’s 2 AM 
And I know 
You shouldn’t stay
...but 
I’ve got a spare futon 
in this room 
out here 

and I swear I can sleep 
alone for another night
it’s only been 
too many 
Nope
It’s okay 
so...

It’s 2 AM 
And I know 
You’ll leave tomorrow 
...but
I don’t have anyplace
I’d rather go 
or be

and if you don’t get up 
right away at dawn 
or if you 
pull me 
Nope
I’m weak 
so...

It’s not 2 AM 
I don’t know
what time it really is
...but
laying here beside you 
with these arms
around me

I honestly don’t care 
about the time 
the day 
or the hour
Nope
I’m where 
I always wanted to be.

Oh Well

Dear Love, 

Please send me: 

a cat lover

short is good

some nice padding  

tanned or darker 

patience is a virtue

as is cooking, too 

my mom’s kinda overbearing

so hopefully they get along 

and ooh - curly hair is cute 

a reader is a must 

someone who likes to listen

and puts up with indecision

maybe someone who enjoys cardio 

so we could workout together 

and has a big family 

like the kind that cooks a lot (emphasis on cooking!) 

but doesn’t want kids necessarily

but gets along with kids of course 

and has a gentle spirit 

that’s happy to laze about with me 

...........

Oh. 

...........

Well, huh. 

This works too.