Tag Archives: mental health

Ache

Standard
Ache

I’ve subdued my urges-

As often as I can…

Quieting the undesired parts of self.

But still… it’s not enough-

Now, inactions aren’t enough…

Words now forbidden-chastised-shamed-

Acutely.

What next?

Thoughts?

Advertisements

Always ok.

Standard
Always ok.

It’s not crazy-

To question all of your decisions-

While holding your knees and rocking…

At the bottom…

of a dark closet-

Simultaneously:

lamenting;

and experiencing déjà vu…

realizing the trauma root to your aesthetic preferences…

synthesizing information, emotions, perceptions, programming…

Understanding leads to despair and experience leads to scripted good guesses…

“Fear is the path to the dark side.”

Leaps of faith…

Crisis of confidence?

Hope being what’s left and hoping because there’s nothing left-

Love or fear, only two choices…

At the heart of it…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Bottom of a dark closet.

Soundlessly chanting-

beneath the typhoon in my bedroom…

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m always ok.

it’s not crazy- it’s human, right?

Purpose required.

Standard
Purpose required.

Have you ever wanted something so bad,

you work and sacrifice….

Go a little mad…

Obtain said goal.

And then-

As though you had been…

chasing the proverbial dragon,

you are again unsatisfied?

Its easy to feel very sad and isolated-

Lonely in this big house-

Full of white noise and silences…

Inconsistently closed yet open doors.

Still trying to adjust- adapt…

Handle all the new noises

Suppress all the annoying ones,

Lament the loss of the old ones;

Not regret not covet-

Missing the tiny place somehow-

Although cramped quarters-

Happiness was found in those small spaces;

No choice but intimacy-

And shared purpose.

Oh me

Standard
Oh me

I live in a huge house now…

full of closed doors;

For energy conservation,

Of course.

Fickle Mistress

Standard
Fickle Mistress

How much can one heart hold:

Sadness-

Love-

Anger-

Happiness?

Swelling and contracting

Heaving like a deep breathing chest

Rising and falling;

like rapid cycling moods.

Hearts can heal

All too often it seems

Just in time to break-

again.

Love-

Love is a tricky bitch.

And hope?

Hope is a fickle mistress.

Like a flock of seagulls…

Standard
Like a flock of seagulls…

I dreamt you went away;

Quite literally, you ran, in fact.

I woke to find you there yet;

Still beside me, corporally, intact.

I decided to ignore it;

The feeling, dismissed, the context abstract.

Dreams for sale:

Standard
Dreams for sale:

Sold two wedding dresses today:

One, unworn and white.

The second; loved yet stained…. with the paint I wore to hide me.

Last remnants of a former self,

Sold to the highest bidder.

Eutetic

Standard
Eutetic

Thought I was the Gallium,

It seems I am the Indium.

Electricity shorts out in tears-

Frazzled charges,

you can’t predict.

I want to be surrounded:

Encompassed;

Supported.

Find myself mixing in

Like T-1000, shapeshifting

All the parts of myself

into a palatable poison.

 

It’s true….

I make a sufficient version

Of a reflective surface

To provide you foundation

For building.

Liquid transistors from

Your quick silver mouth,

Unintentionally spewing mercury.

Not understanding the rise in heat…

As I stretch myself into thin circuits.

 

While in non-consensual secrecy,

I constantly pour myself out.

Waiting for the reciprocal…

(All the while, knowing the odds)

Praying for a recharge.

Poking keys into outlets-

Waiting for the spark-

(That I known is going to hurt…)

Pressing tiny diodes,

Like perpetual LEDs,

Embedded in fully cured resin.

 

An unassuming alloy,

Hidden and presented as an ally,

(im)patiently waiting

for the moment…

you decide to let me in.

Another crystal lattice,

I should have known better.

(should know better.)

I’ve seen this pattern before.

But here I am,

Tonguing all the nine volts,

Wishing you would just touch me.

Shrinking dilation

Standard
Shrinking dilation

I feel myself, disappearing…

into this.

I’m not sure…

Not sure how it happened…

It was just an idea:

A dream,

A thought,

Based on a memory…

A reverie really;

Of a boy-

A boy with sad eyes,

a piano, and a weight bench…

Now he’s become a man,

with those hauntingly sad eyes.

But the weight,

Is now upon his shoulders.

And the piano?

The piano is gone,

And the music…

Well, music is a burden,

on his soul…

But!

But he’s full of love,

And faith,

And love…

And fear.

The fear creates a vacuum…

Nature abhors a vacuum, right?