Pew pew pew

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Pew pew pew

Fed you rotten fruit-
Out of love and frustration.
Now there’s just space.

Broken mirror

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Broken mirror

All the things shed-

to make way for new beginnings:

replaced by ectothermic forces

reflection no longer representative

of the self recognized by Id-

ego

ego

ego

STOP.
Increasingly lighter,

more wrinkled;

mortal coil bound.

long life lived

experiences groomed

patterns repeated

for the chance to repair-

the choice to revisit-

the future of a soul

in need of trauma repair-

control dramas

daddy issues

abandonment

fear

and love

Shame overwhelms

influencing choices

like mercury retrograde
making all communication
futile; yet needed.

spiral spiral spiral

STOP.

who do we see when we look?
cracked and distorted

visions intuited

through a looking glass, darkly.

 

 

 

TuHaiku

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TuHaiku

How did it happen-
the only one alone here;
Me. Again. Of course.

Walking the damn line-
Praying for spiritual strength
And fast Benedryl.

Hallelujah

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Hallelujah

It’s strange:

How I find myself here

Cutting my mother’s hair.

When I swore we’d never speak

Never give myself the chance

to destroy her…

Like I know I could.

Curiously ironic…

Such a moment of grace

And a realization-

“I forgive her”

And for once,

It’s not about her.

Portrait of Blue

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I can’t stand the silence;

More so now, than ever before.

My emotional reactions-

Full of hope, I choose to ignore.

 

I long for grounding;

A way to separate our energies.

My sympathetic feels-

Overwhelm me with anxieties.


I recognize similarities;

Our resonant trauma echoes.

My appreciation of you-

Empathy tips the dominoes.

Artaxia

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Artaxia

Sorghum sadness

Artax-ia let’s say…

breathing in heavy yet noble, gases-

The vapors…

Tinkerbell feelings that expand

And dissipate in a few moments-

Except!

Except-

A certain adhesive melancholia

Sticky clouds…

Like a snare…

It’s a trap.

He super loves her.

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He super loves her.

Such an aberrant sentiment-

Unflinchingly given and reluctantly- accepted.

Growth is rarely a comfortable present;

at least not in the moment.

More of a gift to be appreciated when one grows older.

Cleverly disguised truth-

A Postmodern Jukebox manifestation of arrested development,

to be waded through both side by side

and often you taking point.

A partner and a challenge-

a teacher and a blessing.

An organized wish come through,

willed by his hands~

 

Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em

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Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em

I can go months-

Years without a cigarette.

Until I get a certain sad that only smoking (thus far) relieves… maladaptive or not…

it’s a coping skill too…

Said certain sadness passes…

Cue subsequent guilt for even purchasing…

Then! (as if to punish myself for it)

I am compelled to finish the pack.

Oy.

We’re never really finished, I guess.

Heavy in His arms

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Heavy in His arms

Surrounded by the ever present Spectre of death…

Mortality itself has haunted since the 11th year-

Family & friends dying like the Hemingways and Fondas having a competition…

Addictions and violence permeate a life… a society… a culture.

Supporting those you love,

Facing my own fears;

Tasked with aiding those in grief…

A lifetime of training?

They don’t tell you the right things to say…

Or even the wrong things to say.

“It will always come in waves… they just get further between…”

Weak tea for the knock kneed.

God

Life

Energy

Grief

Stages

Birth to death and all between;

Beautiful acceptance to righteous anger-

Fuck this mortal coil.