5.13

Everything’s more fucked up than it seems

Words never near enough to explain anything

The devil has me in hand again

Have you ever seen God in it

Everything’s more empty than it looks

Everyone so distant and can’t say what I should

Have you ever been to hell, this week

From the back of your skull where it carries

Have you ever been so thirsty but cannot take a drop

Have you ever seen 

Tell me, where did you find God 

With eyes sewn shut

Have you ever for long stood so still

You see the dark man at the window sill

You held my hand once

But I can’t keep my balance

Have you ever slept with hell

So dark in the corners of this cell

Felt your heart slip from your chest 

bones separate from the sinew and flesh

Have you ever had the ground’s deep waters

But run for days only to find rotten cisterns

Standing in a circle clear

where no one knows that I’m here

With skin so thin

That It always seems to gets back in

I can’t see, you can’t understand it

And we wander

Have you ever seen God here

I would meet Him anywhere

Have you ever been to hell, this week

I’m standing in this circle clearing

There’s a devil and a scream that I keep hearing

This is all I’ve got

Tell me, have you seen God?

Three Seconds  Thought~2


I had heard a lot of talk thoughout the years of in death seeing a little white light through the blackness. I guess mine was just a train after all.
I don’t remember a whole lot after that moment. No angels, a few demons; but no evidence of hope or meaning. All I know is that night was when I first found out that life isn’t so simple, forgiving, or easy to escape. It was just another beginning-still outfitted with all the same old contingencies and prices.

It was then that I started to feel less like a soul, and more like a pawn on a chess board meant for begrudged service and flames either way.
Also therein was that which I had learned most intimately in my first couple times around- that everything had its price. For every seeming benefit or advantage of another’s that I had been tempted to look at and covet; each eventually came to me in its own time and acquainted me with a different flavor of disappointment. Don’t get me wrong, I have my preferences for which are more or less tolerable- but at the end of each, always the same cavernous emptiness remained; The same inescapable feeling that I was trying too hard, all to get nowhere.

I reluctantly subscribed that there really was nothing but subjectively fabricated meaning, and the tireless endeavor of mankind to try and help others’ suffering, so that their soul may move on to the next one. It’s not that I have no heart for others suffering, or wouldn’t help whomever I could- but there came a point at which it all turned into absolute overwhelm. Put out one fire and surely enough two more would crop up in its place, such as to imply that it was better to never sweep out the house in the first place and that human suffering was inexhaustible and inalleviable.
There was a saying at one point around here that love was the most important thing in life, made the “world go around”, or was the answer to “absurdity.” I believed it for a couple turns, but eventually somewhere (in my possibly hollow chest) conceded to the conclusion that it was fear that drove most things in this world. Fear of pain; of loneliness, rejection, poverty, failure-suffering. Love was a proposed salve.                                     I had thought that at least once a couple lives back I had experienced, or caught sight of this elusive, idolized concept- at least in the sense that humans revere it.

I remember it the most vividly among the countless things I had ever claimed to memory.

But regardless of such, the sweetest things are often the most short-lived, whilst the most excruciating last; marring everything the eyes can possess, and enduring long past the test of time.
I’ve had plenty of tries to learn how to live with the darkest, most ignominious, hidden part of myself. I’ve had nothing but time, trial, error, and reproof to grasp how to not allow these things to destroy everything that I reach for to attempt to make a life worth living. Yet every time around I’ve somehow inadvertantly managed to always end up back in the gallows; the edge of one blade to another- or pistol, rope, needle, bottle, bag; famine, the murky depths, or the company of another Black Widow to kill the time in between any other blissfully lethal overdose I could find in a similar chemical.

Daily Post-It Thoughts


I’m so hungry  

for nothing you can give me

I don’t need

Anything but to be free

It can’t hold me

You must see that it’s nothing

Nothing to me

To seek in vain

The next best thing

But as I change

I can’t be chained

To what I was. Should. Could 

be

I am me-

I don’t need anything

But eternity

~

To Hell and Back- and Back Again

image

                 It feels like this may be the last time for God-knows-how-long that I’ll be able to stand in a place alone, listening to the wind singing through the grasses or my eyes be met by the sunlight with a tinge of freedom. I take one long last  look at this place of refuge and breathe in the clear air and pure light, commiting them to my deepest explicit memory.  A large part of me fears that I won’t be able to again feel even this moment of solace, for reasons of which I choose not to relay. But I know that I will profoundly miss these calming winds, mountain peaks, and quieting skies-

Only because I remember how vastly different they can look and feel in different times and circumstances.

            But it’s my fault again.
I myself subtly, inadvertantly surrendered my ability to come and go at all. I made the mistake of lacking the appropriate ambiguity within my speech and  bought myself an additional indefinite stay in another treatment center.

       
FANFUCKINGTASTIC.

I should always have just stuck with speaking in analogous poetry.

But I’ve started with this and for whatever iota of clarity it brings me, I’ll permit myself the wandering ranting to try and figure out why this is so much harder than the last time.

          I know everyone is optimistic that this is going to help, but that’s what they said last time, and most people in my life can attest to it only having made things worse in the long run. Maybe I’m overly biased because of my awful experience of feeling like a fucking lab rat for which college interns to practice theoretical pharmacology and psychology. I can still see those oppressive bars over the windows, the little white cups with the yellow pills, and the stupid fucking observatory boxes. I’m reminded of being cooped up, claustrophobic, mind- numbingly sedate, watched and mistrusted. Even if there were no bars- every tiny aspect of my life will be measured and controlled by an independently subjective opinion about what “better” even IS.

Maybe there isn’t a solution for everything.

Or maybe I just needed to completely fuck up everything on my own.

              Maybe it’s just because I’m really fucking stubborn, and don’t tolerate being told what, how, or when to do or not do something. Because I did that for what seemed like a lifetime. Maybe that stubbornness was born from fear- fear of finding out the hard way again, that sometimes well-intentioned people don’t always know what’s best for me.

But I’m having deja vu and I’m freaking the hell out (yet a major understatement).

I don’t want to go through ALL of it again.

I’ve always said that I would rather die than go through treatment again- a statement that would seem absurd to most. Most, unless they are amongst the specific group who know exactly what I’m talking about.
I still feel that way. But don’t exactly have any choices.

           I know that’s part of why I’m pushing everything and everyone away so fiercely, Like a fucking animal backed into a corner. Yet I can only make  conjectures as to what it truly is about treatment that makes me want to do it alone. When this happens I just want to sink below the surface and save everyone from my most cold hearted of reactions…

But somehow, I have to continue to find strength in these times that I feel utterly trapped and powerless.
I never know how the hell I’m going to do it- but perhaps it’s when I have no other choices, that I will find the strength I’ve always had.

January 30th Thoughts

I saw you on the other side of this wide river
I called to you to cross over and meet with me
I see you weeping
With pain in your hands
I’ve always felt your suffering
And I swear I understand
I’m calling out to say
That you will see the answers face to face
All of your fears will dissipate
Just wait for the day
And when you lie undone
Just stay and look up to the sun
When the remaining stars in your heart
have all fallen and gone dark
I will hold you in my arms
And remind you of who you are to me
When the waters run too deep
I will be your safety
come out on the waters and swim with me
You will cross over, wait and see
I’m calling out to say
That you will see the answers face to face
All of your fears will dissipate
I’ll wash away your tears
And take your pains- just wait
Wait for the day

***

It’s amazing to me just how vividly
one can visit the oldest memories
But at the same, a cursed thing
Iliciting a view of the past
A dangerous place for a gaze to rest
But when the songs which once elated my spirit so
And the sights and sounds which once resounded with the purity of hope
Now evoke a whisper and a stroke of misery
I know of which never again shall be
As when we were such young, innocent beings
Filled with light and loving wondering
Simply caught upon the breeze
blowing gently in-between
Your heart and mine
Beating in being seen
So lost yet completely free
Underneath that rainbow encircled sun
I’ve only ever seen but that once
As if maybe everything would be okay
And fairytales could be real within this place
But now we’re grown and like we were made to know
Surreal isn’t the way it actually goes
And I can only feel pure when I am submersed in the painful melodies that I hear
When fate draws me here.

December 18th free write

Carrying through with the motions day after day
For sake of the evaporating
Image of success made
Delaying a resting place
Keeping a steady, even pace
But at its end, the disconcerting voice of imminence
still persists
Chiming, reminding of its
Ever increasing precedence
Dominating all that’s mundane
Silencing the beckoning charades
How can they not hear it?
How can they repeat, grow weary
And speak of being content
Surely even Sisyphus yearned for release of spirit
Different people, the same intent
Or vary the scene, with equal consequence
No one
No thing
Satisfies spirit
In its tireless desire to ascend
So escape away to the place where one can be found while hiding
Revealing the true soul for this one moment in time
A lifetime of one’s spirit trapped inside
Tracing electric from skull down the spine
There is no connection
Cease searching for it
For there will never be
Anything but this
Eternal acknowledgement…