i will never be afraid again.
it steals things, you know. you know this.
i havent, yet, been where you were that night..
devastating...hopeless, dark things...hit so hard and heavy.
I pretend.
i pretend or very carefully introduce the idea that i can mask it. and detach from my social nature.
im easy, open and eager for them
am i just symptoms?
will they know, or have the perspective that i am crazy?
do they think im crazy JR?
the extreme chemical that "correct" that bad things.
they make stretching feelings in my reality.
the size of the universe used to infinitely terrify me.
but like my realization to allow bad days, as if we had a choice, to calmly happen and stay very far from feeling. kind of like that.
because i dont want to be scared. i accept an idea that just like many human restrictions, our brain is only made and needed for what we need and encounter here. It, then, doenst seem so scary.
im not afraid and i know you arent either.
i am not cement still certain that i can overcome or prevent [it].
ive come to not take for granted, when the dark feelings happen, the absence of fear.
because the worst has happened then.
and i will let it climax in horrible detail. not happy but stable.
I'm still not hurting about you. What is it like to be free?
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
I need someone to know. More importantly I need to know that someone feels and genuinely understands the depths of what words cannot explain.
I know now that words just don’t matter. Agony, torment, anguish, devastation, horrific. But I have to use them so you can associate some feeling to what has and is happening to me.
I was escorted like a criminal to a mental ward in a foreign place where they took my clothes, my shoes. And I was quietly in rooms with people talking to the walls and laughing followed by odd spurts of crying and mumbling.
And what quiet, pained thing I realized was that something in
Side of me belonged with them. Whatever brought them here
Brought me here. And no matter where they were born or how
Old they were or if they deserved this it felt like we were siblings.
A family of knowing.
And what makes me quiet. What utterly devastates me is that once my mind broke open I fell into an eternal, rapid spiral of agony that will never ever end.
And do not mistake it, it is not exactly the terror of psychosis, or of being afraid of dots ont eh ground or hiding in a bathtub in fear of nothing. It is this:
I will never perceive the way I did when I was
Five and nine and twelve. Or the way you do.
Or the way you do..
Rooms will never look the same. Fabrics will always appear different and I will forever be prisoner of my lucid dreams, sitting inside of them willing escape.
But there is this.
If in a moment of a day I feel calm,
I can sense the faintest twinge of
Nerves cascading down my spine
As if my brain were producing chemicals
Coercing a feeling of appropriate perception
And simply something invaluable.
Something that can only be bestowed
And not obtained.
I do not try to keep it in a box.
Or save it.
Or hide it from my fears.
Or anticipate its loss.
I very calmly sit beside myself under the sun and un-know.
I pretend I am naive and a young feeling caresses my cerebellum
And I become the shining glimmer of what I envision freedom is.
And some time passes as the dark things collide at me.
Fast and expected like a storm or war.
It is not a stolen thing.
It is not the keys you cannot find.
It cannot be avenged or created.
Or saturated in memory.
It is a fleeting moment of feeling.
Then I slowly collapsed into mysterious water and do not feel real.
I know now that words just don’t matter. Agony, torment, anguish, devastation, horrific. But I have to use them so you can associate some feeling to what has and is happening to me.
I was escorted like a criminal to a mental ward in a foreign place where they took my clothes, my shoes. And I was quietly in rooms with people talking to the walls and laughing followed by odd spurts of crying and mumbling.
And what quiet, pained thing I realized was that something in
Side of me belonged with them. Whatever brought them here
Brought me here. And no matter where they were born or how
Old they were or if they deserved this it felt like we were siblings.
A family of knowing.
And what makes me quiet. What utterly devastates me is that once my mind broke open I fell into an eternal, rapid spiral of agony that will never ever end.
And do not mistake it, it is not exactly the terror of psychosis, or of being afraid of dots ont eh ground or hiding in a bathtub in fear of nothing. It is this:
I will never perceive the way I did when I was
Five and nine and twelve. Or the way you do.
Or the way you do..
Rooms will never look the same. Fabrics will always appear different and I will forever be prisoner of my lucid dreams, sitting inside of them willing escape.
But there is this.
If in a moment of a day I feel calm,
I can sense the faintest twinge of
Nerves cascading down my spine
As if my brain were producing chemicals
Coercing a feeling of appropriate perception
And simply something invaluable.
Something that can only be bestowed
And not obtained.
I do not try to keep it in a box.
Or save it.
Or hide it from my fears.
Or anticipate its loss.
I very calmly sit beside myself under the sun and un-know.
I pretend I am naive and a young feeling caresses my cerebellum
And I become the shining glimmer of what I envision freedom is.
And some time passes as the dark things collide at me.
Fast and expected like a storm or war.
It is not a stolen thing.
It is not the keys you cannot find.
It cannot be avenged or created.
Or saturated in memory.
It is a fleeting moment of feeling.
Then I slowly collapsed into mysterious water and do not feel real.
Friday, November 26, 2010
drive.
the wheels correlate. over and over as my feet coerce their obeying circles.
and i am speaking with my mother about lines and dots and confusing things.
as i unmistakeleably loosing my easy mind.
and there it is.
my "personality", my soul, the soft heart i created begins to fade and flicker and
i am nothing.
chemicals singe and recreate something very real and i become the thing i feared
of homeless and rambling persons.
my vision recognizes no normal thing and dots on the ground become
terrifying.
and when i was two and five and seventeen never mattered.
because i am a thing.
that malfunctions at the sight and sound of environment.
i am afraid of dots on the ground and do not feel real.
what are dreams if i cannot differentiate them?
and i am speaking with my mother about lines and dots and confusing things.
as i unmistakeleably loosing my easy mind.
and there it is.
my "personality", my soul, the soft heart i created begins to fade and flicker and
i am nothing.
chemicals singe and recreate something very real and i become the thing i feared
of homeless and rambling persons.
my vision recognizes no normal thing and dots on the ground become
terrifying.
and when i was two and five and seventeen never mattered.
because i am a thing.
that malfunctions at the sight and sound of environment.
i am afraid of dots on the ground and do not feel real.
what are dreams if i cannot differentiate them?
Friday, September 24, 2010
er
Videotape
the tree bodes and gapes.
all i can remember is sitting atop a table. and he beckons at the edges and at my feet.
he is underneath and in between.
and the sky is void again.
dry and grey and the branches stretch out to the sky.and the shadows stopped dancing in the light.
and his hands were there.
and his words were stressed and starvingand in the night i hear themwhen i try and sleep.they crescendo.
they climax into abrupt flocks of screaming.
and he falls into the groundi walk past it.
the thin, frail arms stretch towards me and break.
the bark begins to crumble off and i can see its skin.
underneath and in between.
and he falls into the place, where the ground and stone is cold with namesand you are my greatest company.
because he begins to mortaland weak and fall awayin the distance i cannot make it outthe things he must conveywhere it begins to tear away my lids
so that i cannot sleepstarring at the ceilingwith the God that i am pleading.because you are my greatest company.
and he grabs at me and tears away my clothes
and the tree black, it aches and bodes and gapesit knows.at the table
i stay and pale and fade
he said [in words like rain],
"this is where love was made."
the tree bodes and gapes.
all i can remember is sitting atop a table. and he beckons at the edges and at my feet.
he is underneath and in between.
and the sky is void again.
dry and grey and the branches stretch out to the sky.and the shadows stopped dancing in the light.
and his hands were there.
and his words were stressed and starvingand in the night i hear themwhen i try and sleep.they crescendo.
they climax into abrupt flocks of screaming.
and he falls into the groundi walk past it.
the thin, frail arms stretch towards me and break.
the bark begins to crumble off and i can see its skin.
underneath and in between.
and he falls into the place, where the ground and stone is cold with namesand you are my greatest company.
because he begins to mortaland weak and fall awayin the distance i cannot make it outthe things he must conveywhere it begins to tear away my lids
so that i cannot sleepstarring at the ceilingwith the God that i am pleading.because you are my greatest company.
and he grabs at me and tears away my clothes
and the tree black, it aches and bodes and gapesit knows.at the table
i stay and pale and fade
he said [in words like rain],
"this is where love was made."
Saturday, February 27, 2010
[Insanity] noticed her.
but she would yell at it and give it bad looks.
It would send her drinks
though she unrequited in quite words about "dreaming"
and she would excuse him in dark liquid,
flowing steadily down her throat making it less heavy and arresting her mind.
until she slipped and spilled her thoughts on the floor, and they lay undone.
her thinking unpeeled as aroma blossomed her cerebellum into a calmer environment.
not her, but her [brain] exploded in surrender and
she didnt feel real.
go away.
but she would yell at it and give it bad looks.
It would send her drinks
though she unrequited in quite words about "dreaming"
and she would excuse him in dark liquid,
flowing steadily down her throat making it less heavy and arresting her mind.
until she slipped and spilled her thoughts on the floor, and they lay undone.
her thinking unpeeled as aroma blossomed her cerebellum into a calmer environment.
not her, but her [brain] exploded in surrender and
she didnt feel real.
go away.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
silk
This day, she felt the words creep unto her pallet and softly caress the roof of her mouth until it broke the silence, breaking into abrupt flocks of laughter that landed at the ceiling sideways and simple.
And happy spread warm over her, in light making the blood in her nourish like never before; a comfort feeling and something about safe.
A sleeveless length of silk cascaded down her chest and stomach. The ivory fabric scooped down her back withdrawing from her braided lacks as if touching would singe it in comparison.
-is that no one addressed them, it seemed adolescent; we were junior high girls in a fight. But we had never met, or laughed, or exchanged stories about pets or favorite colors; we were un-named enemies.
[and I do believe it un-requited, one sided, “up-nosery”]
And happy spread warm over her, in light making the blood in her nourish like never before; a comfort feeling and something about safe.
A sleeveless length of silk cascaded down her chest and stomach. The ivory fabric scooped down her back withdrawing from her braided lacks as if touching would singe it in comparison.
-is that no one addressed them, it seemed adolescent; we were junior high girls in a fight. But we had never met, or laughed, or exchanged stories about pets or favorite colors; we were un-named enemies.
[and I do believe it un-requited, one sided, “up-nosery”]
Monday, February 1, 2010
ratatat
ratatatat; a spiral exploded kneecap
stop the air depravity;
a roaring crash into his chest cavity
they turn up their mighty porcelain noses;
and it begins; the in between and sleep-like poses
and underneath the sheath of skin, their eyes begin to fade and flicker.
and with the condition of the room, the words
they spoke seemed to make him sicker, quicker.
the path is small, and blank, and tall.
i move in ballet, my feet end to tip.
and my body contorts to the shape it concedes.
i bend spine and bone, things i wont later need.
i am finding it quicker,
the door and the step.
the brass handle rotates,
and presents a new depth.
so i cascade down its halls
in its rooms, in its things
and i am hunting it viscously
where, in the ceiling, it hangs
because i only in between and sleep like poses
at night, in the dark things; i do not go
but somewhere i am resting, and person and whole
the endless places, the worlds i ache to show.
do you dream of things, like colored sounds
and if you do, at night
do the stars hold you captive, in the sound do you drown?
cause i keep covering my ears at the sight of sound
its the noise that keeps me
under the sky, above the ground.
cause i told God, i felt flat to the size of it
and he calmed and comfort me
cause the idea of size
is synthesized in it.
he said,
we may not beckon sun and ocean,
we cannot bleed infinite
but in his admirations
our souls expand with no limit.
"so even when they will not stay, underground; all the dead,
you'll take them away, the pain they put in my head?"
he said,
skin and bones cannot stretch,
your shoulders are frail
the tragedies you think to be
in my great eyes, fade and pale.
your vessel's too small
quiet now, overflow
your feeling's too big
start writing words you know
if you paint, the tragic will fall and age
and if you get it out, it will number and page.
if, in time, you write all the worlds
and there are no more left
ill help you to human
where dreams and sleep, you were utterly theft.
stop the air depravity;
a roaring crash into his chest cavity
they turn up their mighty porcelain noses;
and it begins; the in between and sleep-like poses
and underneath the sheath of skin, their eyes begin to fade and flicker.
and with the condition of the room, the words
they spoke seemed to make him sicker, quicker.
the path is small, and blank, and tall.
i move in ballet, my feet end to tip.
and my body contorts to the shape it concedes.
i bend spine and bone, things i wont later need.
i am finding it quicker,
the door and the step.
the brass handle rotates,
and presents a new depth.
so i cascade down its halls
in its rooms, in its things
and i am hunting it viscously
where, in the ceiling, it hangs
because i only in between and sleep like poses
at night, in the dark things; i do not go
but somewhere i am resting, and person and whole
the endless places, the worlds i ache to show.
do you dream of things, like colored sounds
and if you do, at night
do the stars hold you captive, in the sound do you drown?
cause i keep covering my ears at the sight of sound
its the noise that keeps me
under the sky, above the ground.
cause i told God, i felt flat to the size of it
and he calmed and comfort me
cause the idea of size
is synthesized in it.
he said,
we may not beckon sun and ocean,
we cannot bleed infinite
but in his admirations
our souls expand with no limit.
"so even when they will not stay, underground; all the dead,
you'll take them away, the pain they put in my head?"
he said,
skin and bones cannot stretch,
your shoulders are frail
the tragedies you think to be
in my great eyes, fade and pale.
your vessel's too small
quiet now, overflow
your feeling's too big
start writing words you know
if you paint, the tragic will fall and age
and if you get it out, it will number and page.
if, in time, you write all the worlds
and there are no more left
ill help you to human
where dreams and sleep, you were utterly theft.
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