5.14


They throw these words around so goddamn easily

I don’t think they know about what it even means

Are you standing on a street corner now

Not remembering at all

How it came about

Or where you are

After driving in the dark

You can’t take a breath

And holding on so tight

Just to draw one more in your chest

But then you lose your eyesight

How can you fight

How will you ever get home now

But nowhere’s home, you’re by yourself

Just wanting to stay on the ground

But you’re floating up and looking down now

Just wanting to be touched

Just wanting to be saved

But you can’t let yourself

Need anyone or thing

When you’ve gotten so far away

And can’t find reality

Someone’s lips are moving

But you can’t hear anything

Longing just to feel

But floating too surreal

The terror and pain inescapable at your heels

Just wanting to be touched

Just wanting to be loved

But no one can make you whole

Because you’ve lost your fucking soul

We throw these words around

And I know we’re lonely now

But how can one get out

When no one can pull you back down?

5.12

So disconnected from this reflection

I can’t say why I let it happen

Where did it go, my heart grown so old

I won’t fool myself though

Nothing can hold or touch a soul

And healing is just a feeling, nothing more

All the things we labor and learn to ignore

It’s not me

But it’s me everyday

I can’t be 

Okay living in yesterday

A hole in my chest, an empty emotion

I run to the edge of this ocean

Just to turn back again

Who loves what’s been faded

I’ve become so jaded

A watered down version

Of who I was made

It’s not me

But it’s me everyday

I can never seem 

To be okay today

Everything’s the promise of the next thrill

A let down and its all going downhill

From here

Hit the top and lost

The rest of the feelings I’ve got

But I won’t know it until the time is gone.

Maybe Suicide IS the Answer

“Fuck you”

“There was once a story and around me I see plenty.

“I never would have thought there wouldn’t be one for me.”

“Never thought I’d be the one to cut down the family tree”

I’m scribbling on the chalkboard that’s in my head. I keep writing and erasing similar sentences. They just don’t come any closer to cracking this open. This isn’t what I want to say.

There’s a voice that’s screaming, carried to and fro upon the winds. It’s not mine. It is of a pain that’s not mine. Where is it coming from? Why can’t I find you,

whoever you are.

I turn over again, looking back at the clock for what seems the thousandth time in an eternal night. It’s still 3am. It’s been 3am for months. Or years- I can’t recall how long I’ve actually been here. I can’t bring to mind what I’ve done with all the time. I reach over for the little orange pill with the skull, pop another in my mouth, take a long swig from a bottle, and roll back over to stare at the little weeping angel above me.

I’m scrawling on my skin with red ink. I can’t find the right spot on my body to write what’s eating at me inside when my brain is screaming again. My sleeve is torn where I already bear a scraggled, twisted heart. I’ve finally run out of room.

I throw myself down into the icy waters and sink to the bottom. I lie there, studying the world’s dim light refracting through the ocean around me. Everything is silent here. Here, I’m OK. as long as I can hold my breath, which today is much longer than it should be.

I hold the knife to my throat again. The days are carved into my chest, just where you can’t see. A drop of blood and I remember what it is to be alive, but a river could never say the proper words.

I’m fumbling with the lock- the one that holds these chains together that are digging deeper, embedding into my skin. If I could just reach it.

I press the barrel to my temple and pause for the hundredth time. I study the weight of the instrument in my hand, and softly whistle a few notes to myself. Just one nerve impulse away.

All I need is once.

Riding On the Wings of the Morning

 

 

I’m feeling seriously uninspired and don’t feel like writing.

Or talking.

Or breathing.

But I’m committed to unblocking this throat chakra.

I can barely contain my enthusiasm. 

Let’s see…
Still going out to the frequency healing center every couple days. The visits thereafter mostly consist of sitting in a cushy armchair for a couple hours at a time, with electrodes on my wrist, or chest, etc. What feels like electricity pulsing though my chest is rather interesting. There’s also a working Tesla coil, which was intriguing to be able to experience the tangible energy pulsating through the air- though I kept losing track of my intention,

for reasons. 

I thought it rather peculiar how people come in through there to get their frequencies like it’s their daily cup of coffee. At times, sitting in the little white brick room with no windows for hours can make me rather restless, especially when the lights are also dimmed- though it’s definitely nothing complaint-worthy. I’ve met a handful of people with everything from Lyme to Cancer- mostly claiming that after as much as 40 years of searching for relief, that Mr. Beautiful Human is the only person who has been able to help (or cure) them. So I guess I’ll stick with this kind of voodoo for now.

I can’t help but still think about this particular older couple I spent a couple hours next to. She came in looking very badly- practically carried into the room. When she came around a bit more, they were discussing what to get for dinner- A fairly mundane conversation- yet I was so taken aback by the way that they Interacted, and the way he spoke to her was so remarkably telling that they’d been together a lifetime. His speech was calm and compassionate, most markedly devoid of the subtle exasperation that I typically hear in people’s words towards someone consistently not feeling well- and I’ve been around a lot of sick people. Given, perhaps he’s not always like that- but his wife allayed that suspicion. It was just something that brought up many vivid memories for me.  I couldn’t help but interrupt their discussion of steak to shake his hand and tell him,

“You Sir, are the possessor of a dying temperament. Keep it up,” and laugh because I probably looked like a sentimental sap.

He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said “Everything’s going to be OK. You’ve got a great mind that someone’s going to love. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise- you’ve got this.”

                                  OK old man, please don’t make me cry anymore. 👌

So the nosey little imp that I can be when it comes to personal stories- I found out that they’d been together for 48 years- since they were 20, and she had been severely ill with Lyme disease for 40 years before coming there. Her immune system and consequent health was further destroyed by the years of intense antibiotic regimes she had been prescribed for the Borrelia spirochetes- a thing I thankfully had refused to do, despite minor opposition. When her husband left the room she echoed many of the things I’ve said myself, regarding suicidality, self-guilt, a lot of broken relationships due to misunderstanding, and feeling like a burden- weighing down the potential life of her tirelessly patient husband.

 

As far as results from the frequencies, I must say that I did feel better after the very first treatment even. I woke up the next morning pain-free, clear- headed, and full of a fidgety, positive energy. My fever was down a degree, and I didn’t have any nausea. It was amazing to have even a couple days of feeling more normal than I have in a long time.

 

I couldn’t believe- is this how people actually feel?
Because it was fucking amazing.
I realized then that I seriously had forgotten what it felt like, to just be OK; to be able to be in control my own mind and body, instead of one or the other severely crippling my ability to do even the simplest thing without extensive effort or impairment.                                        I understand now why most people don’t understand me- or think that they do and therein attack me for whatever spiritual/emotional malady I supposedly have that week. For the last couple years I’ve continually asked and examined myself for in the case that I was simply losing discipline, self control, or becoming a generally weak person. I see now that the reality isn’t such, but is that slowly, insidiously; what I’ve been pushing through has really become that much heavier to bear.

Unfortunately, the bad days came back after those few good days- but I’m trying to believe that it’s a process with setbacks and that I’ll continue to regain my health and independence. But at least in those couple days I was finally able to gain some lucid perspective and strengthen my own resolve to fight for myself.