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Moochie’s Meandering Missives (and a pic or two)

I feel contained
Like someone has come in while I wasn’t looking,
Bottled my thoughts
And emotions,
And then ran away leaving them inside me,
But without letting me gain access to all of them
As I usually would.
I feel frustrated without reason.
I feel nothing and everything so much.

I’ve been brainstorming why I’m feeling like this all night,
And I think it may be many reasons combined...
Which is infuriating and also manageable with time.

I feel impatient and I want this feeling gone right now.
I want to be myself again
And not feel this... off.

It’s funny because I like to be physically bound.
A lot.
I like the feel of being squeezed and held
As much as I like the feel of being caressed and snuggled.

...It is just this vice grip on my mind,
This involuntary confinement of my thoughts,
That is driving me to claw at the inside of my skull
Because I feel so...
Blank.
Dull.
Nothing.

Any time I go to write,
I find myself here,
Staring at the bottle,
Grabbing it by the neck,
And trying to smash it against the wall.

It’s like looking at rope
That I used to be wearing,
And wondering why I ever took it off.

Image removed on 3/21/22
 
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I was just thinking of you, so I came looking. I am old...I forget good things so easily.
 
Inner turmoil, always difficult to shift but not impossible.

Thinking of you.
 
Moochienanu said:
I feel contained
Like someone has come in while I wasn’t looking,
Bottled my thoughts
And emotions,
And then ran away leaving them inside me,
But without letting me gain access to all of them
As I usually would.
I feel frustrated without reason.
I feel nothing and everything so much.

I’ve been brainstorming why I’m feeling like this all night,
And I think it may be many reasons combined...
Which is infuriating and also manageable with time.

I feel impatient and I want this feeling gone right now.
I want to be myself again
And not feel this... off.

It’s funny because I like to be physically bound.
A lot.
I like the feel of being squeezed and held
As much as I like the feel of being caressed and snuggled.

...It is just this vice grip on my mind,
This involuntary confinement of my thoughts,
That is driving me to claw at the inside of my skull
Because I feel so...
Blank.
Dull.
Nothing.

Any time I go to write,
I find myself here,
Staring at the bottle,
Grabbing it by the neck,
And trying to smash it against the wall.

It’s like looking at rope
That I used to be wearing,
And wondering why I ever took it off.
Click to expand...

Yeah.
Exactly.
 
y=mx+b said:
Yeah.
Exactly.
Click to expand...

The problem is that,
At the same time,
I don’t want to stop writing... you know?
I don’t want to stop
Because if I do,
I may not start again...

But at the same time,
I have nothing to say.
Nothing new.
Nothing interesting.
Nothing exciting.
Nothing fresh.
Just Nothing.

So it all seems futile
As I stare into the blank.
 
Moochienanu said:
The problem is that,
At the same time,
I don’t want to stop writing... you know?
I don’t want to stop
Because if I do,
I may not start again...

But at the same time,
I have nothing to say.
Nothing new.
Nothing interesting.
Nothing exciting.
Nothing fresh.
Just Nothing.

So it all seems futile
As I stare into the blank.
Click to expand...

Then you force yourself to write the most meaningless trivial shit.

Because that’s how it works.

Something good will come out if it.

I have a billion words locked in a box nobody will ever see.
 
Sent over miles
With care in the act
They fly.

Once,
sometimes twice a day
They find you
Where I imagine,
Feeling the presence,
Your hand reaches out,
Grabs hold of it,
And pulls it close to your heart
Where it belongs.

I found,
Or maybe I felt the one
Sent over the weekend,
And the way it flew
On it’s mission
Through the grey.

I plucked it from it’s zooming path
Through the air,
And,
Holding it tight in my fist,
I pulled it close,
Pressing it to my chest,
I whispered three words
And hope it is mine.

Image removed on 3/21/22
 
Last edited:
Moochienanu said:
Sent over miles
With care in the act
They fly.

Once,
sometimes twice a day
They find you
Where I imagine,
Feeling the presence,
Your hand reaches out,
Grabs hold of it,
And pulls it close to your heart
Where it belongs.

I found,
Or maybe I felt the one
Sent over the weekend,
And the way it flew
On it’s mission
Through the grey.

I plucked it from it’s zooming path
Through the air,
And,
Holding it tight in my fist,
I pulled it close,
Pressing it to my chest,
I whispered three words
And hope it is mine.

http://forum.literotica.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=2089577&stc=1&d=1580120627
Click to expand...

They have your name on them and searched you out, so must be for you, don’t doubt it.
 
Todger65 said:
They have your name on them and searched you out, so must be for you, don’t doubt it.
Click to expand...

There is always a degree of doubt.
Of fear.
Anxiety.
Worry.
Unease.
Trepidation.
...

Always.
Even if it is just a kernel,
It is still there.
Because sometimes,
That doubt is based
In a cemented reality
I will never shake.
 
Moochienanu said:
There is always a degree of doubt.
Of fear.
Anxiety.
Worry.
Unease.
Trepidation.
...

Always.
Even if it is just a kernel,
It is still there.
Because sometimes,
That doubt is based
In a cemented reality
I will never shake.
Click to expand...

I know where you are coming from. Very deep seated insecurities are so difficult to shift.
 
I am almost done reading a graphic novel by Tamaki and Valero-O’Connell titled ‘Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me,’ and the whole book is great, but I have to say that these pages where the two characters meet for the first time resonates.

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I’m letting the words flow today,
Getting them out and not turning back
To see what nonsense has made it’s way
Into the front of my brain.

I’ve started many pieces already this morning,
But each one was off,
Like me.
Each one didn’t say what I actually wanted them to,
So I erased each in turn,
And am now hoping
That something will come
Of this disaster.

Disaster is a good word
I don’t feel like a disaster right now,
Instead, I feel like the aftermath of one.
I feel like the leftover crater
After a missile explodes.
I feel like the ransacked house
After a thief has stolen all that matters
From the secret hiding places
No one will know about.

I feel the wrong kind of empty today.

I want the right kind of empty.
To have every thought leave my mind
Because you tell me the things
That melt my brain
And leave nothing for to say
Except predictable, agreeable phrases.
To have every bit of my body
Used up,
Leaving nothing but the blank canvas
Of exhaustion and sweat.

I could say more,
But I fear all of my words today
Are just a way to scream into a void
In a way that isn’t helping anyone.

I do have a small secret,
Which is keeping me from sinking...
And it is held in hours
Which tick past
With an end in sight...
And soon.

Image removed on 3/21/22
 
Last edited:
Moochienanu said:
I’m letting the words flow today,
Getting them out and not turning back
To see what nonsense has made it’s way
Into the front of my brain.

I’ve started many pieces already this morning,
But each one was off,
Like me.
Each one didn’t say what I actually wanted them to,
So I erased each in turn,
And am now hoping
That something will come
Of this disaster.

Disaster is a good word
I don’t feel like a disaster right now,
Instead, I feel like the aftermath of one.
I feel like the leftover crater
After a missile explodes.
I feel like the ransacked house
After a thief has stolen all that matters
From the secret hiding places
No one will know about.

I feel the wrong kind of empty today.

I want the right kind of empty.
To have every thought leave my mind
Because you tell me the things
That melt my brain
And leave nothing for to say
Except predictable, agreeable phrases.
To have every bit of my body
Used up,
Leaving nothing but the blank canvas
Of exhaustion and sweat.

I could say more,
But I fear all of my words today
Are just a way to scream into a void
In a way that isn’t helping anyone.

I do have a small secret,
Which is keeping me from sinking...
And it is held in hours
Which tick past
With an end in sight...
And soon.

attachment.php
Click to expand...

😭


Much :heart:
 
Moochienanu said:
Hey!

We made it to 2500 posts in this thread!

That deserves a celebration...

Or something.

attachment.php
Click to expand...

Hey very nice. And good choice on the Bowie. Although you could have easily picked ‘Lets Dance’ in honor of your milestone or ‘Queen Bitch’ as that is probably my favorite Bowie song but this aint about me so Heroes it is.
 
Mr_Underground said:
Hey very nice. And good choice on the Bowie. Although you could have easily picked ‘Lets Dance’ in honor of your milestone or ‘Queen Bitch’ as that is probably my favorite Bowie song but this aint about me so Heroes it is.
Click to expand...

I love ‘Let’s Dance,’ but it didn’t feel quite right... and yes, this is mine. Can’t take the skies from me.
 
Congrats, need I say more . I'm sure accolades and fanfares far better than any I can produce will flood your in box💐
 
Polranny said:
Congrats, need I say more . I'm sure accolades and fanfares far better than any I can produce will flood your in box💐
Click to expand...

That’s kind of you to say, Dragon. 🌷💜🌷 (The truth is that I get as fewer PMs than comments on my posts these days... seems I might be too intimidating again.)
 
Moochienanu said:
That’s kind of you to say, Dragon. 🌷💜🌷 (The truth is that I get as fewer PMs than comments on my posts these days... seems I might be too intimidating again.)
Click to expand...

I rather think you deserve and get public admiration, for everyone to know.
 
In the early morning,
Covered in a half-darkness,
Warmth paid for
With movement,
A tree and a flower kiss.

Resting atop one another
While on their sides,
Wrapping arms around,
Pulling closer
Unable to think of parting,
Knowing soon will come again.

A strong, solid, sentinel
Holding
A soft, safe, seedling.

Image removed on 3/21/22
 
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