I just can’t be it
Leave me behind,
I don’t want to go
with you
unless they go
But they won’t
They’re far too inwards to understand
situations out of hand
But they know
there’s no answer
I can’t do what they all
want you
to do
So now
we’ll lose
everything we start to keep
for our lives
Their hands
I don’t see that they will change
for you
and your good will
They take what they can
for themselves’ own ends
Believe
A victim
A last farewell
and we shall run
--
End
=
The medicine is all we need
to keep us away and hidden
We can only see the sunset
We can never see the sunrise
In our funny little homes
we’re really quite alone
We’re just a sitting target
for your superiority
But the medicine is all we need
to keep us away and hidden
We can only see the sunset
We can never see the sunrise
Alone and unaware, the landscape was transformed in front of our eyes. Buildings began to stretch wide across the sky, and the air filled with a reddish glow. The soundless dawn came alive as cities began to mark the horizon. Mechanical sounds cascaded through the city walls and everyone reveled in their ignorance. A brief moment of clarity broke through the deafening hum, but it was too late. Our happiest days slowly began to turn into dust. The sixth extinction crept up slowly, like sunlight through the shutters, as we looked back in regret…
All the favors
The favors that you pull
Will be repaid
Repaid in more than full
Just close your mind
Because nothing’s really worth it
Just close your mind
Does that not feel so good?
So we litter the land
What we don’t need we want
You give life and then don’t feed it
It’s all smothered beauty
All the favors
The favors that you pull
Will be repaid
Repaid in more than full
Just close your mind
Because nothing’s really worth it
Just close your mind
Does that not feel so good?
So we litter the land
What we don’t need we want
You give life and then don’t feed it
It’s all smothered beauty
All the favors
The favors that you pull
Will be repaid
Repaid in more than full
Just close your mind
Because nothing’s really worth it
Just close your mind
Does that not feel so good?
So we litter the land
What we don’t need we want
You give life and then don’t feed it
It’s all smothered beauty
Reaching arms, a tree at night
Burnt and black, it stole the light
And you know what it is that I feel
And you know what it is that I feel
And when your fingers pull and fight
They braid and weave inside
Making planes and trees ignite
Destroying all that they feel
Growing bright above the planes
What has happened to the weight?
And you know what it is that I feel
And you know what it is that I feel
When your fingers pull and fight
They braid and weave inside
Making planes and trees ignite
Destroying all that they feel
Are we so right we stopped searching
Are we so lost we stopped walking
Are we so right we stopped searching
Are we so lost we stopped walking
Are we so lost
Are we so lost
Cold in this soil
and longing for your embrace
Growing old
as time takes what’s left in state
Then
the trees
are brown
and we all sleep
Heart filled with love
Despairing, descending day
Will they take
Both hands will wrest away
Flesh
and bone
and time
will free us
Exploding with leaves,
the wind is the painter’s brush
Finding lines
and filling the heart with love
Down,
the trunk,
the roots
will feed…
Trying to be Human is exhausting and disappointing and obnoxious.
Everyone just wants chances to condescend and be superior. Frontal lobes don’t exist anymore.
Always shine
Always shine
Always shine bright down on me
Mother Earth
Mother Earth
Mother Earth, take the pain away
All we are
All we are
All we are we’ll never be
Always shine
Always shine
Always shine bright down on me
Mother Earth
Mother Earth
Mother Earth, take the pain away
away
away
away
away
away
away
away
All the ghosts that haunt us don’t scare
We’re just too selfish to be that aware
Why believe yourself
Why believe yourself
Dull clouds line the pathways to ugly skylines
Rivers flow to grey buildings
Sweet air
Bitter taste
Why believe yourself
Why believe yourself
Why believe yourself
Why believe yourself
Why
Time to feed the monster
I don’t need another friend
Comfort is a mystery
crawling out of my own skin
Just give me what I came for
and I’m out the door again
Lie to get what I came for
Lie to get just what I need
Lie to get what I crave
Lie and smile to get what’s mine
Desperate days,
when solutions are sold
for a price too high
for the exit stage
Can’t wait for long
All that my past would tell
Could see all the silence
plain as day
Plan until the end
I won’t defend
The altercations all fade
Spin out of control
like all the tolls that I expected to pay
as madness settles in
Comfort yourself
Grant us our subsidy
Our contentiousness failed
Passed along
Descendants of the acts themselves
No sense in rising up
when deceptions gone
I said
You said
We said
Kept a log
of every exclamation saved
Plan until the end
I will defend
The altercations all fade
Spin out of control
Like all the tolls that I expected to pay
as madness settles in
Comfort yourself
Startled at the truth I might get old anyway
The coefficient’s off
save for the life ahead of me
No sound can cull a tendency
to react to some,
but disregard the ending scene
Plan until the end
I won’t pretend the occupations are sane
Feel out of control
I can’t emote
The expiration is real
Comfort yourself
Resolve to fail
Makes sense if you’re sitting still
Seal off all cares
Shame, I selfishly will not feel
Resolve to fail
Makes sense if you’re sitting still
Seal off all cares
Shame, I selfishly will not feel safe
It’s in my head now
It’s in my mind now
It’s in my face now
It’s in my brain now
City of mutants darken the night
Evil illusion, guided by light
The friends you thought, they never were
Egos and icons, they just don’t care
You hope to die quiet, laying in bed
It’s better than pointing a gun to your head
It’s in my head now
It’s in my mind now
It’s in my face now
It’s in my brain now
See these fools that surround us
Make their rules that define us
Seeing reds that confound us
Make your rules
The gates we see are never open
For you and I, they create purpose
A sense of worth, but lost in Heaven
Our only hope
They’re the architects of sight
Building walls to block our light
Only in dreams we’ll make it right
Only in dreams will we take flight
You’ll be there at my end
Like my only friend
You know that it’s true
It will only be you
You’ll be there at my end
Like my only friend
You know that it’s true
It can only be you
I’m dead in the water
A silhouette turning over
I’ll wait for you here
And I keep forgetting
where I meant to be
All so far
yet
all so near
So tell me
Just what are these gifts that you bring?
This life is amazing
but the colors keep changing
And I’m sure
We shouldn’t be wasting away
My rotting history
Will find its place
So don’t go
so cold
So don’t go
so cold
I’ll not be afraid
It’s taken this long
to come back again
And yet, I might suffer
the fate of another
Of shit and the bones
and all things considered
I walked with my hands held out
I walked with my hands held out
to
you
and
all
that’s
good
And I’m sure
we shouldn’t be wasting away
And I’m sure
we shouldn’t be wasting away
And I’m sure
we shouldn’t be wasting away
And I’m sure
we shouldn’t be wasting away
Living
back
words
I’m
living
back
words
I’m
living change
back change
words change
I’m change
living change
back change
words change
I’m change
living change
back change
words change
I’m change
living change
back change
words change
One thing I fear is what I might lose
Kiss on the mouth to remind me of you
Take it in turns to decide where to go
I’m looking for something that God only knows
And in my arms, on the way down
Are you still calling me? And how do I hear?
The morning sun swept to give me pause,
with light beaming into every pore.
Under the depth and weight of pureness bronzed,
she tried to steal my open eyes,
she tried to take my only growth;
to her, it was a darkened sore.
To her, I was a changing tide,
and she wanted me to flow for her.
I have slept beneath the bones of life,
under miles of everything rotten and blind,
so that I could know the reach of sight.
I lay here so I would know myself,
even though I've grown morose and deaf.
It is mine as it is oceanic breath,
But I would not change that for the acceptance of morning.
--
If you come to know the rupture
and withdraw into the sculpture,
the form of held enclosure,
you can see what I hold dear.
It's wordless and uncounted,
belittled and discounted.
The faceless, voiceless fountain,
it gives strength and definition
to neurosis, to ignition.
And in this deepening abstraction
is where I watch the endless crashing
and find freedom and salvation.
Release through retention;
contraction and expansion;
I suffer every tension,
am crushed beneath dissection.
What has begun as distention,
agony and dementia,
brings whole the separation.
I drink from this dissension
to wring out my ascension.
--
As thoughts start seething
And blood mixes in with what I'm feeling,
Like a tangled web of tears and sweat,
Of prospects sold to be unmet,
I claw away the mildew stains
To froth and foam spherical regret,
While you forget the words you've said,
They fuel the fields inside my head.
With rusted blades, scorned dull and bland,
The shit I've grown inside my soul is just too bare to shove away.
I can't even catch a single breath,
Nor find myself for one last stand.
This is the well, dug deep into bone:
No water, no stone; I've been sweating, feeling windblown.
The brown of autumn's face,
Inked darkly.
--
I can't sleep. When did this hill become so steep? I just want to lay my head down and be greeted by some peace. When I picture your face etched in my mind like flames, all my thoughts become whitewash, and I feel like I'm insane. I love you, even though you're hell, a concrete swell in an ocean of muffled bells. It sounds like pain and tears and grime. And it's all mine. I think about you all the time... I still think about you all the time.
--
Low place like home
I still feel the pangs of needs that bring me back to my adolescence. It’s ridiculous.
I’d just like to turn my brain off for a few months and not worry about it now. But, I guess that’s what I said a few months ago; here I am.
It’s so silly to feel the kinds of basic yearnings that are so aesthetically human. I hate the kind of people that are always looking to take advantage of the opposite sex, or to fill their own loneliness with physical intimacy. And when I yearn for those kinds of things, I dismiss it. I think about where it would end up, and the unsatisfying tinge that paints sex when it’s with someone you don’t love absolutely.
I think about the frailty of human interaction, and just how much is based on your own reflection in the first place. I don’t meet the kind of people who are genuinely interested in me or my thoughts. I’m just a sounding board, most of the time. A brick wall.
But I don’t really care about that in the same way that a self-conscious person would. I just care about the idea of actually meeting that other kind of people. It has to happen someday.
I didn’t have it with people I’ve known my whole life, and I haven’t found it in the myriad forms of succubus that have clawed at my heart. Half of it is because I’ve never met anyone I wanted to share that with, and the other half is that nobody really tried, anyway.
But, in a few days or a week or two weeks, I’ll be back in a manic phase and schizoid and it won’t matter for a month or two. That’s what’s so goddamned silly about it. It becomes easier to repress yourself when you’re harder to suppress.
The part of me that just wants to get laid is ugly, because it goes against what I’ve learned and my own principles. The part of me that regrets the past is ugly because I still mourn the death of someone that never gave a shit about me, and sank into self-loathing bitterness. I mourn a lot of things, and none of them really matter at all, because they either happened in what seems like a past life, or they were pointless and stupid in the first place.
The man in me wants to feel attractive to the kind of women I feel attracted toward, even if I blow them off or act strangely. I at least want the satisfaction of feeling like I’m not just a bitter, mentally wrecked loser.
Being around such banal people has made me realize just how extraordinary my upbringing was. Or, maybe it was just my own intelligence that got me through it. I’ve seen the dark mouth of Hell, and I’ve lived in a black hole, and I’ve been to places that cause me to laugh inside every time I hear someone talking about their “dark shit”. They don’t know what real, mind-shattering psychoses are, and they don’t know what real trauma is.
I attribute too much to the importance I place on past memories. But, I’m not the kind of person that lets go just because it’s not important anymore. My past will always be important to me; so I tell myself.
The more I live through it, the more I realize that I would hate myself if I did lower to that bottom standard. If I became another douchey guy; if I manipulated people in such a condescending way, as if they were objects to me; if I eternally sought to raise myself above others so that they knew; If I became the kind of person I hated, just for bland, bleak fulfillment; How could I really live with myself after that?
Sometimes I feel like I have every single moment of my life stored in my head. Then I think about people like Nietzsche, Staley, Turing. They all died in abject misery. So maybe that’s a kind of badge of honor I can hope for.
In the very center of my soul, I have always been the kind of person to hammer myself down into absurd and selfish things. I pound and break and stomp until there’s less than nothing left. I’ve carved my opinions into the foreheads of the kind of people that were too stupid to realize I was better than them. Part of that is never giving up on its weight, never putting it aside just to be a sheep long enough to sate their thirst of the animalistic.
Tension in the ranks is what I see
Trickle through the planks into the sea water
And oh, well, it was too bad to see you drown
Tension in the ranks is where it ends
Captured by the ones who killed my friends
If you should break them to release me
Well I’m dead…
Every day, I feel a little more unfulfilled by what I’ve spent my time doing: Working, eating, sleeping.
I think it’s just another cycle in the life of an un-medicated manic depressive, but it’s hard to rationalize those kinds of things away, because they are a part of what you feel about everything that you come into contact with. I’d like to have that kind of confidence I used to wear on my sleeve, and flirt with girls, and forcefully make people uncomfortable when I realize they’re idiotic… But something about living here makes me adopt my persona. Something about working at a job I loathe makes me adopt my persona.
It feels like it’s what I have to do to get through this part of my life. I need to turn my brain off for as long as possible, let time warp around me until it’s a year later and I have money saved. But, I won’t have nearly enough money saved to justify a year’s worth of shitty, unrelenting, unappreciated work at nine dollars per hour. I never thought I would work for that amount ever again in my life.
But, really, I’m not the kind of person I used to be. I have an ugly soul, and ugly personality, and an ugly heart. I am nothing more than a borderline, living and breathing and always distancing myself away from a breaking point. So, I will never really get the satisfaction of being myself in this situation, unless I do reach a point, and start to break apart and lash out against such a shitty, depressing landscape.
My favorite feel is nearing the end
I feel a timebomb ticking closer to my house
And you’re free to go if you care
Closer to the way I felt before you in my heart
My favorite feel is nearing the end
My favorite feel is nearing the end
My favorite feel is nearing the end
My favorite feel is nearing the end
Closer to the way I felt before you in my heart
Closer to the way I felt before you in my heart
Closer to the way I felt before you in my heart
Closer to the way I felt before you in my heart
Closer to the way I felt before you in my heart
“And in the spider’s belly: Bones of the butterfly.”
Flight breaks, the outer limits fade
And inner lights on thin ice slowing, undone
Beyond my eyes, like deadly infants with limbs
The frequency’s scream begins
I’d like to fall, but the infant’s mind so blind, so dimmed, forever
And mine was gone, smelling bleak, this dies
You ain’t god until hush
Say it mother, what if, hey, something’s not quite right here, may
Feed the anger, feel what made the midnight sunshine go away
Pain, pain, go away, see the game to see the day
And what was once a monster stays
and sees that nothing lasts forever…
Sister’s gone,
a crown of red
You said I missed;
a mistake
In the dark,
I thought her you,
and shot
I hear your voice
calling me
from a calendar
anniversary
Wake up, empty head
Ringing bells
You said you heard her voice here
An eastern wind
on branches bare
No moon, no stars, no passing time
And all you ever wanted was my embrace
Rather you stay inside your hiding place
I hear your voice
calling me
from a calendar
anniversary
It’s February
You’re two years gone
and I am lost
I am lost
It’s February
I can feel your hand
and here I come
Here I come
You cannot hide yourself
I’m everywhere
Common places
Haunted past
With all the woods now gone,
I knew it wouldn’t last
All those faces
are question marks
Up and down the street
Looking down the block
Common places
Haunted rooms
Wandering inside
Contemplating doom
It marks our faces
when we don’t smile
Don’t get me out of bed
I want to lay here awhile
So come another day
Today, I just can’t
The faces are out there
This is your last chance
Collapse the veins
Crush the heart
Snap the tendons
Dissolve the bones
Flood the brain
Burn the skin
Pierce the lungs
Collapse the body
Stars now beneath our feet
We’ve known the terror
and still not stopped
Swarm down and forgive me
Rain down and forgive us
--
We became parts of a greater whole
The black hole sees a light
--
Hive been fed
Fill my soul
One way in
Fill my soul
Fill my soul
I been high
Still can’t see
Devastated
Come find
Pleasuring arm
Tempted to bleed
Hollowing
Dares my soul
I been high
Still can’t see
Devastated
Come find
Our inventions split their cocoons
And the whir of wings was deafening
Rain down and bring
A gentle time
The definition of religion:
Segregation with a vision
Armageddon’s ammunition
Man, I call em like I see em
I see a cold, dark planet headed straight for the end,
like it was all just a figment of our imaginations
You try to hold me tight through that long, dark night
And you try to hold me down
But, now I’m ready to fight
I’m dead right
Never lie down for them
Never lie down for them
No, I’ll never lie down for them
there was a time I thought mind would force the body – there was a time I thought mind would force the soul – but then I went evil – but then I went mad – but then I went evil – but then I went mad – but then I went evil – but then I went mad – but then I went evil – but then I went mad - evil is ruling over my existence – evil is ruling over my existence
there was a time I thought mind would force the body – there was a time I thought mind would force the soul – but then I went evil – but then I went mad – but then I went evil – but then I went mad – but then I went mad – but then I went mad – but then I went mad – but then I went mad
evil is ruling over my existence – evil is ruling over my existence – evil is ruling over my existence – evil is ruling over my existence – evil is ruling over my existence – over my existence – over my existence
there was a time I thought mind would force the body – there was a time I thought mind would force the soul – there was a time I thought mind would force the body – there was a time I thought mind would force the soul – there was a time I thought – there was a time I thought
It’s weird how I always seem to spontaneously start thinking of a song in my head, and then, when listening to it, realize that it has more to do with the way I feel than I thought.
There’s something to be said for waiting
Despite the knowledge it’ll never come
In the face of doubt
Learn to go without
and within
And there’s something to be said for action
To see the consequences get played out
In the end, you find
You’ve run out of time
and space in your heart
Okay
Alright
You’re okay
But it’s not fine
And now you’re coming ‘round the corner again
And you’re leaving everything behind
Out of sight, out of mind
You’ve run out of time
and space in your heart
Okay
Alright
You’re okay
But it’s not fine
Where did you go to?
Nothing left to hold on to
Can you just close up?
Can you just give up?
Life
has betrayed me once again
I accept some things will never change
I let your tiny minds
magnify my agony
It’s left me with a chemical dependency
for sanity
Yes, I am falling
How much longer ‘til I hit the ground?
I can’t tell you why I’m breaking down
Do you wonder why I prefer to be alone?
Have I really lost control?
I’m coming to an end
I’ve realized what I could’ve been
I can’t sleep, so I take a breath
and hide behind my bravest mask
I admit I’ve lost control
A deep sore dragged through ages
The sores are my own, I know
Wounds collected through a lifetime
And wisdom I pick up along the way
I received the spit from a snake
And the snare cut real deep
I was caught in her womb
Something spreading in my veins
Those walls I faced alone
I crept on bounded knees
The own will just vanished
I wept my compassion away
I wept my compassion away
With tears that flooded your heart
No river leads back to mine
I bow down in soil and whisper
And gather strength to spread the disease
--
Somewhere along the railway
A body divided in two
Somewhere between the screams
Those visions were never seen
I understood the voice
An ancient sacrifice
Buried in a wreck
To rise up in a gaze
In marches the bitter man
Fire away again and again
Hang dry curtains are down
Sink down in dumping grounds
Sirens scream in your head
When the march lingers on
Hear the echoes of the ceremonial doom
Hear the echoes of the dying
The march lingers on
The march lingers on
The march lingers on
The march lingers on
--
Through times I thought of what we created
For greater causes that brought us down to this
In elderly forms and surroundings
In the flesh of spirits incarnated
They’re here for the hate forgotten
A rearview mirror to all lost souls
A slow burn shattered the field
Pain through body
Fire-drained vein
Walk down to the watchtower
And with the right kind of eyes
See waves roll in and over
Never could you see the watermark
The ground is shaking
From all the people below
One thing I’ve learned from this is
What you reap is what you sow
Man marches through the rust and dust
The burning fields will soon be ashes
Bodies woven in smoke and skin
And clouds descend to the sea
I see the bonds that tie belief
For this I choose to sink
I see the bonds that tie belief
For this I choose to sink
Walk down to the watchtower
And with the obscure shapes
See smoke roll in and over
Never will we see the lights
Ever thought that when you stare at the sun,
you’re blind but you can see?
Ever wondered why when you’re in love,
it brings you down to your knees?
Ever look deep inside yourself,
and didn’t like what you found?
Ever shouted out to Jesus Christ
when there’s no one else around?
and your lips were sealed
when you broke my heart
and these cuts don’t heal
as I fall apart
now you’re in love
with another man
and it tears me up
knowing what we had
and my fate was sealed
when you broke my heart
and these cuts weren’t healed
as I fell apart
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
don’t tell me you don’t feel it
Something about being on the bottom of society makes people feel so inadequate that their default interactions with others is to look pissed off and always challenge everything in an ego-centric way. Bitch about your job constantly, bitch about other people, bitch about how you are getting the short straw over and over again. They desperately want people to think they don’t give a shit. But I am the true face of someone who doesn’t give a shit, and it’s not glamorous at all. It is the most misunderstood kind of person, and I never take the time to impose my ego on others or explain my views ad nausea.
But it feels good to move through with that kind of apathy, because it lets you get rid of all the ego that makes daily life such a chore. If only my entire body wasn’t sore from the past two weeks….
Sometimes, I think I am purposely abiding the death of time so that I can move forward. I am purposefully abiding.
But there is an emptiness in being part of the machine, and there is a filling notion that comes from the fantasy of uplifting its structure.
It’s hard to live in the moment. But, it’s even more difficult to find a moment to live in.
If I were an aphorism, I would be opposite poles of the same languid statement, but I would pierce through every facet of existence.
I am beginning to wonder why I am so overly polite to people, now, especially when I am treated like a fool for acting so. Anger is just so tiring, and destructive, and fetid. I feel anger often, but I try to get rid of it as soon as possible. Most people don’t know that suppressing or feeding anger just makes it worse. To truly let it go, you have to devalue it until it doesn’t exist anymore. It’s hard to do. Feeling persecuted by fate, or subjugated by your own decisions… or feeling weak at the thought of having the strength to carve your own path. This is the sadness of post-modern capitalism.
--
The Collapse of Romance
Will that I burn slowly
in the fountained fields of mercy,
while the fire creeps its travel
along the edges of my psyche.
Give the air around me
to the pyre ever-devouring,
so that the soil will never touch me:
So I speak, into the flowering.
In this pulse of ended story,
crows are patiently stalking.
Their sight is fixed on what I’m hearing.
Their taste is waiting for what’s coming.
I see the rotten, worn-out warnings
and I hear a different story,
of the light that keeps me going,
not the weakness of my mooring.
I still dream about a future
signified by pulling closer,
held by the small of your back
and the outline of your shoulders,
and I feel that breath inside me,
the spark I never let forget me.
I bide afire, burning slowly,
until the day you whisper to me
that the rain has come to claim me.
Atom
Are you faring on seas of tempest,
while the ocean shudders to pull you down;
are you grinding the finish away,
until there’s nothing left to drown?
Are you falling against yourself,
or are you falling straight down?
If you sow and cannot reap,
will you turn the harvest in on yourself?
Weakness and Fear
I shed beside the altar
all my worldly things,
and an other finds an opening
to tie itself to me.
Lift and Break
I am the wanderer,
bound to burning effigies,
pupils wide in anger,
straining from a winter.
Stretched thin for elegies,
strings smoldering; a lesion.
A lesson for belief,
my skin is leathered myth:
The shining proxy, crumbling.
Statues of weltered sin.
I can’t reach the width
required to douse myself.
Silent fires are burning;
raging storms, unyielding.
And I am silent,
for I am a silence.
=
Years ago, I went on a date in D.C., to meet a girl I didn’t really know. I waited outside the metro station for 3-4 hours, trying to call her from a payphone to see if I was wasting my time, getting strange looks from the people around me for just standing there for so long. It was a depressing event. I’m pretty sure the same kind of thing just happened to my roommate. If only he’d listen to me when I say that being over-enthusiastic when trying to date random women is a complete waste of time. He was all geared up for starting a romantic relationship, and I kept telling him it was pointless. But he did what he always does and says that I don’t know what I’m talking about. But, I’m always right in the end. If I was a pompous asshole, I’d feel good about that. But I don’t.
The times we had;
oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow
were not all bad;
we put our feet just where they had, had to go
Never to go
The shattered soul,
following close, but nearly twice as slow
In my good times,
there were always golden rocks to throw
at those who
those who admit defeat too late
Those were our times
Those were our times
And I would love to see that day
That day is mine;
when she will marry me outside,
with the willow trees
and play the songs we made,
they made me so
And I would love to see that day
her day was mine
--
And I know winter will pass by slow
Without my heart, what can I do?
You’re in the halls
The bell gives way to a larger swell
Without my heart, what can I do?
And we grow fat on the charms of our idle dreary days
Seen the shadows grow;
see an ominous display
With no alarm, could we say
we’d have expected this away?
Our desires have died;
give incent to play
--
When I feel alive,
I try to imagine a careless life:
A scenic world, where the sunsets are all
breathtaking…
=
I just had two of the most surreal, insane dreams in tandem, in about 2 hours of sleep. It was/is nuts.
I hate not being able to sleep when I desperately need to.
“I know him. He’ll get confused, lost in his own philosophizing and wallow in self-pity. He’ll vent his anger and hack at anyone and anything he comes across. Then, in expiation, he’ll do some grand, but pointless deed. In the end, he’ll be slain, stupidly and needlessly, with just a stab in the back.”
Coming around,
the knife takes its place;
falling and crawling under
Brother of mine,
come out from your cave;
you can not be defeated.
--
Father, now listen close:
You have become another ghost,
just like me;
just like me
Now flowers fall from your glass;
a bitter taste
The girl is back,
in dancing lights;
in dancing lights
Dancing lights, flowers fall;
A bitter taste;
the glass is full;
an empty hand;
an empty hand
In dancing lights, flowers float;
bitter taste;
the glass is full;
an empty hand;
an empty hand
An empty set of colors crawl
through the door into the hall;
the knife is dull;
the knife is dull…
=
Whenever someone asks me what any of my tattoos mean, I usually just say something like, “I used to do a lot of acid,” or, “it’s kind of hard to explain”. Not because it is all that hard to explain, but because they’re personal to me, and nothing offends me more than taking the time to explain something that someone doesn’t listen to, anyway. Most people don’t take the time to use any of those neurons that help with really understanding the metaphors in Human expression.
When someone at work asked me if one of them was my “key to get into Heaven,” I had a momentary lapse and got a little bit excited that someone asked such an abstract question. Then, I realized that he knew nothing about pentacles, or geometric symbolism, or really anything at all. He was just another caricature of white trash with no real social awareness. He was just another idiot always trying to sound poignant, or always trying to say something in a way that belied something about himself. As all people do.
I used to take pleasure in finding out things about interesting people, but I haven’t met anyone I thought was the least bit interesting here. The only person I would consider friendly and trustworthy on a basic level, just ended up being another caricature in a lot of ways. Just ended up being someone who would end up awkwardly asking for something.
I just got a very weird sense of déjà vu.
I’ve only really ever heard anyone talk about tattoos in a ‘branding’ sort of way. They are accessories, things to make you cooler, not necessarily anything to expose your hidden weaknesses or psychoses. They are family names, or a cool design, or something to show others that you’re a hard-ass. People have told me before that mine look like I drew them on myself; that’s why they are there, really. I carved them into my own persona, to remind myself that there is much more than persona in this country.
People are so generic sometimes that it makes me wonder if I slept in during The Great Conversion, where the populace became sheep. Even the anti-conformists conformed to their own anti-conformity.
I never really connected my persona to my real emotions, because it never felt natural to relate to people in a real sense. But, I guess that’s just a symptom of my schizoid-ness. I am nothing but generic replies, generic statements and generic politeness when it comes to the masses. But, I also know that if I did some sort of ‘radical honesty’ thing, I would probably just spend my entire life berating people for not really thinking for themselves, even when they think they are. I’m not 16 anymore, so the thought of that just seems so… unclean. As much as I can look down on them from some corner of my own individuation, I can never bring myself to spit vitriol like that into another person’s eyes. Because then, they will just be blind, and angry. And I would get into too many fights.
All I can really do that gives me a sense of control is maintain that separation from other people, to make them think that there’s something behind my vision that is untamed and unknowable. Something about the way people react to my making eye contact with them makes me feel better about myself, like my eyes are still the massive razors boring through the thoughts of another. Or maybe they can sense that I’m completely insane from my glowering.
A long time ago, someone told me that I had soulful eyes. If that’s true, I wonder what that says about the black holes they’ve become, now.
Or, maybe people think I’m always trying to intimidate them. Maybe they think I desperately want to act like I’m hard. But that feeling of decimating someone’s personality by seeing right through them is so satisfying to me, it’s almost worth what I paid to receive it.
It’s taken me 6 months to find any sense of stability here; not just financially, but psychologically. It’s one thing to be solitary in an area that you’ve always known, surrounded by people you’ve always known. It’s another thing entirely to be solitary in a world that makes you feel even moreso.
But, this is what I’ve always wanted: To leave my life behind and find something new. Even if it exposes the fractured state of my mind, and makes me even more solitary, I can’t really complain about it anymore. I am sick of capitulating to dumb people and their shallow interests; to a social setting that makes women prey and men predators; to a structure of living that bleeds the soul dry.
I’ll do what I used to do. I’ll walk through life and push everything that I don’t like far out of my way, and if anything or anyone wants to stand next to me, they will have to earn it.
I realized recently that being in a social setting for longer than a few days at a time changes me a lot. Or, maybe lying in an apartment for the 4 months before that was what originally changed me.
But all of my social interactions are more or less the same. People try to be friendly to me, and I reciprocate in a very cliche` way, because deep down, I really don’t care at all about other people. But, dealing with those same people over and over forces me to adopt a layer of personality on top of my own. This started as me not wanting to weird out people I had just met and was going to work with for the foreseeable future. But, it made me realize that most people just like to talk about themselves to another person who is acting like he’s listening. It’s amazing just how much people enjoy doing it. Being around people that I haven’t known for years and years all of a sudden brings out the sociopathic psychoanalyst in me. I’d like to think that I say things uncharacteristic of my own mind just because I am reinforcing a person’s psyche and dissecting it at the same time, but really I just reflexively respond with whatever is on the top of my head, and only afterwards do I really think about it.
I forgot how much of my physicality and mentality were based on how much anxiety I was feeling at the time. It’s only recently that I’ve started to feel more relaxed, and it has let some of my real personality come out naturally. I feel like I haven’t really been myself since moving here… but am slowly returning to something that existed years before I even thought of moving, a level that was smothered by habits and emotional dislocation.
I am focused aimlessness. I don’t know when I realized that my life is too lonely even for me. But it is.
I need loneliness to survive, but I have no outlets at all anymore. I just swing back in on myself over and over again.
It’s weird. I guess I took a lot of things for granted. I’m just a solipsist by necessity.
I’m starting to feel like I have to fight against my brain on a daily basis. Something about my makeup is pushing me into a state of requiring stimulus to find the effort to stimulate myself. It’s the exact same condition that always made me start abusing things…
How do people just live, peaceably, without giving birth to some hungry demon inside of them? When people say that addiction is a disease, I think this is what they mean: Not an actual illness, but something fundamentally wrong with the circuits in the brain. They don’t operate normally, they only want and need and devour.
Maybe this is a sign that I really am returning to normal. I’m not longer sick from withdrawal, I’m no longer on the natural high that comes with overcoming the sickness… I’m just normal, here, and I can feel myself needing something. Not even anything specific, just… something to push me forward.
I start retreating into myself, and I start becoming disconnected. I have never been able to overcome that aspect of my chemistry. As much as I force myself into that state of happiness that comes with telling yourself over and over and over that everything’s alright, I don’t really believe myself anymore.
My entire world becomes obfuscated and replaced by this one simple thing: To find a way to be occupied, without the awareness that I’m only occupying myself for the sake of it. Outside of myself, everything starts to blur until it feels unattainable. The last month of my life still seems like a dream, somehow…
Canaries sing themselves out, way too hoarse
Their wings move as if choreographed
They are just acting each other – the missing, the imagined
They are only singing about how much more yearning they can hold
Mirrors reflect ourselves, way too clearly
The stares, directed another way, are cuddling together
They are just pitying each other – the reflections on the mirror
They are only pretending as if they are going around something
Next comes the lies, pieces of you, falling into place
Again you are used, made to feel you’ve found it out
You are for ever made to watch the same scene
At the same place, over and over: missing pieces
And you know you’ll never find them: missing pieces
-All the Missing passing me by
”At least I would like to stop them.”
”I am lonely… Ah.”
-Chasing its back
”I would like to keep holding this ‘should be’ there.”
The scene has already faded away
Now it’s time you stopped crying: missing pieces
Already faded away
Stop crying, stop crying
Missing pieces
‘Right’ branded on my brow
’Wrong’ graven on my mind
You see,
the sin is in me
When will it stop unfolding?
When will I ever be face to face
with the devil in me?
Let me burn you
Let me burn you
Let me burn you down
Let me burn you
Let me burn you
Let me burn you down
Burn you down
Let me
Let me
Brain wants to rule the heart
Heart wants to tie the hands
Unseat
the assassin in me
So you cry,
not to give it away
So you lie…
Let me burn you
Let me burn you
Let me burn you down
Let me burn you
Let me burn you
Let me burn you down
Burn you down
Let me
Let me
Burn you down
Born with a wicked charm
Torn by this driving harm
You see,
it moves into me
So you lie,
not to give it away
So you cry…
Head’s a wrecking ball
shattered against a broken form.
Grasp is pallid;
still crushing the throat of a porcelain girl.
The forest stained in copper,
throwing itself on desert flames,
without the recognition
that it’s all for the terms of the trade.
The moonlit predator,
breathing dust from the rays of the sun;
heaving through tension the will to destroy,
for the earth to build something else upon.
Despite the feeling of finally returning into my own body, I still have this emptiness that makes it hard to apply myself. I have no real interests, and while I can record music, and spend hours doing that… that’s the only thing that can get my mind thinking about something else. Whenever it’s late and I’m aimless, I start thinking about what I’m supposed to do in the following weeks… how I’m going to pay my bills… how I’ve seemed to gloss over the fact that my awesome, affectionate cat isn’t here anymore… how I know I won’t be able to fall asleep unless I spend hours doing so… it builds panic in me.
I feel fine sometimes, but even then, I know the anxiety is there. It’s always there. I have this spring-loaded trigger that is never set off. No matter what I do all day, it never dissipates my energy enough to make me feel complacent.
I guess I still am recovering, as much as I’d like to believe that recovery is over. It’s only day 24. It hasn’t even been a month. I would still be in a rehab center right now, if I had gone that route.
And at these hours is when I try to write something, just so I will feel like I’ve dispersed –something-.
Exercise… do the dishes… reorganize my possessions… clean the counters… do a few loads of laundry… none of it seems to really matter, other than giving me some faint reason to wear my body out.
I just hope it changes soon. Now that I almost have it, I miss the ancient feeling of being comfortable in my own skin. I don’t even remember the last time I had that feeling, but I know it’s in there somewhere… aside from all the feelings and memories that I’ve suppressed for years.
--
I feel something like a weakness
deep inside
One weighs stronger than the other,
something like…
Wrong emotions setting free
and fear I can’t love
One tear, a river drowns me
One bad principle
All this shit must keep you seeing
black and white
Oh my God, it’s taking over
Say you’re sorry
Three feet deep, a piece of you is staring at this
Seems skin deep, my smiling’s only a piece relied on
selfish solving, base-revolving words
Self-sufficient, educated idiot,
I took too much and measured out
Not too conscious, not too bored
But to realize,
it soils you
Pieces of this…
can’t describe it
A beautiful lie
on all five sides of it
Shut up
Shut up
Great Disaster
Let down
Let down
with resistance
Get out
Get out
when you come around
Let down
Let down
I’m allowed to say
I can hear you call my name, but
nothing goes to show your blame
--
Blissful wishes, floating in the clouds
I see ambition killing us, I’ve found
justified decisions knocking me down
Can’t stop this piston, flooded engine
Distant misses
Common excuses
Captured a glisten
of a smile that makes me smile
Now, I’ve looked all around me
and I am still deciding
who has listened to the strength in my sanity
I know
this is not a lot, it comes
too bold
and I swallow every drop
like it’s strychnine mixed with cyanide
I thought I tried
I’ve lost my mind
So pure
Not so
So sure
I will go
Good intentions
for bad predictions
I’ve lost my mind
Thought you’d remember me
from two days, for two weeks
You laughed, and I smiled
My heart can’t forget how
I lost my mind
I thought I tried for you
One time, not silent
The one next to you is not the one to blame
Come, we’re all sitting here in a circle of shit,
a million miles of shit
covering the ground
The love you plan
It still erases
The love you plan
It still erases
The love you plan
It still erases
The love you plan
It still erases
I know this is not a lot, it comes
two-fold
and I’ll swallow every drop
like it’s strychnine mixed with cyanide
I know I believe in God
it shows too slow, but
you’re all I’ve got
'cause it still feels good being different
Different from you
I thought you knew
I tried my hardest to keep you
alive
Thought you’d be honest
Thought you’d be true
It all turns my way
It all turned to grey
There’s nothing left to say
There’s nothing left to say
Nothing to say
Nothing to lose
Nothing to say
Nothing to lose
without you
Colors so sad,
they will make you cry
Lost in the innocence,
I’m lost in you
Colors so sad,
it will make you cry
Lost in the innocence,
I’m lost in you
Lost in you
Lost in you
Lost in you
Lost in you
Stumbled
and fell down
Nothing left to do but look around us in the end
We look for something to use
We look for someone to shove
Some we take as its handed
Some we take for granted
But some weren’t lucky enough
Some weren’t blessed enough to be standing on the lines
inside and everyone,
as their name is called
This is a roll call
This is a roll call
Tell me what is real?
Let me get the difference
Everything is shit
Just like your pale face
scared by the vision of everything,
turning to fire underneath your blisters
Everything is shit
It’s shit
There is a certain aspect of my feelings that I don’t let into my social brain anymore. Maybe I’m too introspective, or too antisocial to the point where it has changed my deepest behaviors. I always keep my motive to myself, in a sense. I never give those sweeping pinpoints of emotional communication like I used to. So, I will write it here, to myself.
Nothing has made me happier this last month than hearing her voice on the phone. It’s been years… but as soon as I heard it, I remembered how it felt back then. And I remembered how I trusted that voice. I have become such an emotional shut-in that I have forced myself to forget about my own desires in that sense. Probably because I just can’t deal with the lows anymore, so I avoid them entirely.
I know that if I do say what I think and feel, it will only start the cogs moving slowly towards destruction. Even though I tell myself that I’m different, now… somehow I still know that it will happen. It’s scary to always think that for your entire life.
But, even if that –did- happen, would it still be worth it? Even if it was only for some temporal relief? Isn’t that why I was addicted to things for so many years? Because I enjoyed the present, I didn’t think about the future or past; just the present. Maybe I was just numbing myself to what was around my life in that sense.
But just to hear that familiar voice, and to remember how it felt back then… makes me want to try to get it back, even if I feel like I never really can. I’m a different person, now: Even more wrecked, more aimless, more destructive because I have that death inside of me and always will.
It scares me, because I know I will feel that way towards anyone and anything I want… but shouldn’t I still want it? Other people with destructive personalities don’t wall themselves off from everything because they think they will destroy it; they want it, and then destroy it, and then want again. At least, most people do. Maybe we’re both different in that way.
I don’t even know why I sweat it so much, because it’s hundreds of miles of nothing, between two voices. Just thinking of that makes me sad to know it’s true.
Maybe I’m just trying in vain to latch onto something because I have nothing. Maybe I’m nostalgic because I haven’t had anything to be nostalgic about. Maybe I think I’ve changed somewhat simply because I can’t stand to be the same person anymore. Maybe I’m just alone and starving to death. But shouldn’t I still want it?
I have the feeling she would think these same things… and that makes it all the harder to avoid. And even though I am just talking to myself, I still want her to read it, just so she doesn’t think I am unaware. Because I always sound unaware, uninterested in some small way, because I can’t stand to face what is really inside me. The aloneness; the fear.
And even if it is just hearing that voice, I feel like I’m not so alone.
Thinking about the rotting carcass that is my brain right now, I don’t even think I could offer anything. I always feel blank, mentally bloated. Like everything I say sometimes is just noise trying to escape from a storm. I can hope that this feeling goes away as I return to myself… but that was always a part of me. The noise. The storm.
I just hate feeling so goddamned nervous all the time, with everyone and everything. Maybe this will quell some of that. Or maybe I’ll just look like a complete fool for being so strangely shy. I never used to be shy, when it came to my feelings in that way. I don’t really know why I am, now. It probably has to do with how thoroughly I’ve destroyed my sense of self for the last ten years. It’s only gotten worse. I can feel that nervousness infecting every action I take, and it makes me think that I haven’t found a job yet because of it. I wasted too much money on stupid shit because of it. I called someone I loved years ago because of it. I am restrained and diluted because of it. Something about putting myself truly out there just scares the hell out of me.
At least it feels somewhat normal to write as my old, morose, self-loathing, blackened self.
As the pressure grows
and these feelings flow,
trample on bodies;
bodies in holes of faith
The times I’ve asked the Lord
for forgiveness,
while kept under a spell
of sweating locust’s breath
No need to tell me,
as it’s written on your face
Sliding down, now,
with the black lights shining
I don’t care where you go,
you won’t get away from me
Black as the night is day
filled with no sympathy
Marching down the hall
for a misery
I don’t care where you go,
you won’t get away from me
Get away from me
You won’t get away from me
Get away from me
You won’t get away from me
Mouth tastes of sick
My stomach twisted inside
Everything is wrong…
and I can’t get away
The gravity of fear,
you can feel it coming near
It’s coming straight for you
It’ll twist you, drag you down
--
Seeing is believing, but I don’t want to know
Walking through the wasteland, I just can’t let go
Face down, I just break down when I see you cry
all the time
Hold on, please
Behind those grey and lonely eyes
Hold on to me
Unforgotten by time
Tempt fate, release
Reality is dawning
Escape
Someone now is screaming as the flames fly high
Think now that we’re lost here, but we don’t know why
Face down, I just break down when I see you cry
all the time
Our spirit is awakening,
and somewhere in the hurricane,
hope is waiting,
crying in the distance,
calling out your name
--
Is this the one thought it was insane?
Coming down against it all
Didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. Didn’t want it.
Twisted face of feigning beauty
Count the cost of suffering
Cannot see the day before you,
only feel what’s deep inside
Try to change, it makes no difference
Didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. Didn’t want it.
Didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. Didn’t want it.
Let me go
Let me go
Let me go
Looking outside, inside, craving for something
Hoping for anything, I’ll believe in anything
Who has eyes that see, who wants to believe?
In something, anything? In one thing, in freedom?
Looking outside, inside
Looking outside, inside
Looking outside, inside
Self-assist pandemonium; broken promises
Died alive, flying high, you caught me in your eye
Disintegrated, incinerated, this is not how I want to be
Too much is coming through, so please tell me what to do
--
Born to the glare of the senses
Spoon-fed reality infused
A new, inherent,
passive contentment
You are so easily amused
Here and now, we are
gone in a heartbeat
A dream in the passage of time
Chances are fading
This world isn’t waiting
The moment is passing you by
Questions lie beneath the surface
The fools are fooled once again
Benign coincidence;
we stole our existence,
and gladly cast it to the wind
Slowly spinning on the wind back home…
No future
No warning
Slipping away…
--
There’s always something you won’t dare to say
Your good intentions are boring; take me away
If it keeps you sane, then it’s okay
But if I played it safe… would it save me?
I’d like to get some rest now, if I can just ignore the truth
scratching at my window, this time I got to make a move
Ego-obliteration, stand back and watch me melt away
Dissolve all recognition
I’ve got burn this weight out of my mind
Running through my veins until I disappear
This feeling is over
This feeling is over me
This feeling is over
This feeling is over me
Climbing up my wall, gonna creep between the cracks
get out on my skull, tie the rope around my neck
Destroy all emotion; want to rip my face to shreds
Cut my eyeballs open
You know, I got to burn this weight out of my mind
Running through my veins until I disappear
This feeling is over
This feeling is over me
--
Floating with nowhere to hide
Unspoken twist back inside
How did we get here?
Life don’t belong here
Feel like I just never tried
to find a way back to the outside
It stops me from breathing
Kills all the dreaming
Talking to you from the other side of a wall in my mind
and it’s clear that you’re near to me
I think I found a way to understand why I couldn’t see what was happening
The fear overcame me
Took a trip on the inside, I took a trip on the inside
I try to hold on until this feeling is gone
Break through to the other side, need to break through to the other side
of everything that is hurting you
Because, you know I just can’t lay down and die
It takes a lifetime to understand why
It seems that you’re near me,
but you don’t seem to hear me
Because this fear’s so new to me
So new to me
--
You know you ain’t going nowhere:
You’re stuck inside while the mind is flying
You said you knew me in the morning,
twisting on pins into my eyes
And we’re driving on the ceiling below you
Facing up the walls with your crooked hands
While you’re miles away
Miles away
Miles away
I didn’t think it’d all end up like this:
Spiders on the wall and the stink of piss
Dead heads lying in the corner,
staring at me, making me feel bad
I cup my hands up to my eyes
but the holes in my palms let me find a way
to corner you
Corner you
Corner you
I can feel my chest crushing inwards,
sucking through my skin into my brain
Oxygen pushing on the window
The cracks in the glass let me slip away
I start to cry, I keep on laughing
I close my eyes at what’s left inside
and then I ran away
Ran away
Ran away
For all the time in this land
For all the time in my hands
Circle ‘round
In depth found
Calmness fall
once again
Once again
Once again
Once again
Once again
Once again
Once again
Razorblades floating in the warm bath
Air bubbles in your veins turning my hands black
Whispers coming from the next room
Window-cleaner, keep on spying
I put my hands up to my eyes,
but the holes in my palms let me find a way
to corner me
Corner me
Corner me
Twelve-ton hammer for my breakfast
Slipping off the edge in catatonic blood
Multiple decibel inscriptions
trying all they can in miles-an-hour
All face grey and looming downwards,
sniffing all the time for an ounce of silence
Screaming all the way
All the way
All the way
Numbers counting down inside me;
solar system thoughts circle ‘round my head
False teeth hanging from the ceiling
Feet looking for the goms of the Second Son
I eat my hands ‘cause my legs are crying
You broke my neck ‘cause I snapped my spine
I wish you’d die away
Die away
Die away
--
Long way from home,
nowhere to go
What made the river so cold?
The sweat of thoughts
trickle down my brow,
soaking and stinging my eyes
”You gotta face it head on,
so you can turn this thing around…
’cause this ain’t right”
Tell-tale sighs and cries
of dreams unfulfilled,
and time is running,
running dry
Panic-stricken bloodshot hearts
try to restart,
but no longer build the well to survive sweet oblivion
”You gotta face it head on,
so you can turn this thing around…
’Cause this ain’t right”
I got these feelings, and I don’t know why
I see all my fears in the darkness of light
What made the river so cold?
Never anyone to rearrange and fall to…
Time inside the empty
Call to the blameless: I am faithless,
placid, dying eyes
”You gotta face it head on,
so you can turn this thing around…
’Cause this ain’t right
You have to go eye-to-eye,
raise your face to the sky…
’Cause this ain’t right”
I got to believe when I say
only this is the way…
--
Deep inside the silence,
staring out upon the sea;
the waves washing over
half-forgotten memories
Deep within the moment,
laughter floats upon the breeze
Rising and falling…
dying down within me
And I swear I never knew how it could be
All the waves washing over all that hurts inside of me
Beyond this beautiful horizon lies a dream for you and I
This tranquil scene is still unbroken by the rumors in the sky
But there’s a storm closing in,
voices crying on the wind
The serenade is growing colder,
breaks my soul that tries to sing
And there’s so many, many thoughts,
but I try to go to sleep
And with you, I start to feel a sort of temporary peace
as I drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift in and out,
drift……………………………………
I still have all this energy. How do I still have so much restlessness when I’ve barely slept in two weeks? It’s insane.
And there’s only so much I can do at 10 pm. I’ve organized and re-organized my room, hung pictures and sentimentals on my walls… went through all my books, thought about reading one, and then quickly dismissed that idea. I don’t think I can sit still for that long. Games are getting boring. Movies are getting boring. Anime is getting boring.
The only thing I’ve found calmness in is eating, playing guitar, and writing. And trying to contact all of the people that I’ve alienated over the years… just out of desperation to talk to –anyone-. Anyone at all….
Anyone?
Please?
Talk to me.
Relate to me in some way.
I need it.
I am such a horrible person. In this new solitude, without blinders or mufflers or anything, I started reading through my old notebooks.
One of them was dedicated to the time I spent in Missouri.
I can still feel those emotions, and their resurging in me as I take in the pages is so discomforting. How do I convince myself to torture and eradicate everything? How do I keep from destroying myself completely?
I haven’t felt this kind of restlessness since I was a teenager. It’s been that long. But, anti-depressants are death. Anxiolytics are death. Opiates are not just death, but suicide.
All I can do every day is ignore the churning swirl in the seat of my stomach. The agitation that I sublimate every hour of every day. I hope to God that it disappears.
I am so afraid of trying to become a normal sheep, because I know that I can’t. I am afraid of being able to find a job, because I feel like I never will. I am terrified of fucking this whole trip up, of relying on my mother and brother for money until they get sick of me. But, this is all just the withdrawal-induced depression talking… isn’t it?
I also have never felt so alone. I have no one to talk to, and while my roommate is my best friend, I don’t like to relate to people in that deeper way, unless I’m doing a lot of drugs. Maybe back when I was 23, I would have opened up to him.
But I’m 28. I have no job, no income… a really bad case of The Itch, and a vague determination to get through withdrawals so that I can live my life sober. I can’t even think of what it would be like to try to relate to people here, or anywhere… because I know that there is always a 99% chance that they are the kinds of people that will just annoy me, or will never become the kind of people I can truly relate to. That’s just the way it is.
My solitude has never felt this encompassing. This strangling.
From a late summer, years ago:
My emptiness is the bow that bowed
under salted air and ocean blows
that fell ceaselessly until I was thrown.
I have empathy and the love in stone:
Timeless, instanced, windflown;
the feeling that I am monotone…
the feeling of a stretching undertow.
With the green and white, the colored Spring
flowing, pouring into my something,
sacred triangles are on false legs,
while I still want to be great,
like the undulating sea;
the same feeling that once drowned me.
I don’t have that phantom-shape,
the nonexistent hole of wasted space:
The hunter who cannot provide;
the author with only a weak reply.
It is no ghost in me;
rather, organic and encompassing…
And still, still I try,
as the horde of weights divide
and lacerate our endless shine.
--
For every cornerstone, a scratch;
each loophole, a catch;
routes to feel the crash.
I wonder how this all makes sense
when my soul, the floating wanderer,
the minstrel catches his breath,
stares in wonder of the path
and is afraid to step ahead.
”You feel this too, I know”,
I’d shout from my transparent banner,
my warcry, futile, dry.
At least it is to me, for I am nothing
if not determined, yet I have no way to breathe
because I have a lump inside of me.
I feel it is all a dead end’s growing seed.
What can I do for you?
What can I really do for you?
When could this ever be alight,
ablaze, except through fantasy?
--
The feathers in my eyes were just knives, turned inward….
It feels like It’s been years since I accessed my real emotions. I’m pretty sure it has been.
Everything is beginning to flood back in. The grief; the loss; the need; the destruction; the emptiness.
But, whereas before I would sulk and sink into it, I will not do that ever again. I will never become that low unless I let myself. Even if I have to kill off my own memories. Because I have to, to survive.
Emily is never returning. Brittany isn’t either. Linnea is almost gone; I’m sure of that. I will probably never see or speak to my father ever again. I will probably never see most of the people I’ve known throughout my life ever again. I want it that way. I need to leave them all behind, to move forward.
I have been sleeping in a death so absolute that I forgot I –was- asleep. And now, I’m beginning to awaken. And it’s so painful. But, this sacrifice will forever be a part of me, just like all those times when fate murdered the parts of me. Every single one of them.
But Humans are like that. We die, and we live again. No one else can resurrect like I can, because I don’t believe that anyone else has died like me and wasn’t snuffed out completely.
I remember walking around on campus, listening to music so loudly that it drowned out the blaring sensation of being alone in a crowd. I remember trying to grasp at a burning rope, to somehow get her back to me. I remember sitting in my car on the side of the road in the middle of the night, bearing my heart to someone that never cared about me. I remember watching the New Years’ celebration in a hospital room. I remember holding the blade to my wrist, and being afraid. I remember pumping my veins to bursting, and being afraid. I remember being a ghost, and I remember being dead. I remember all those ancient pains. I always will.
But, I will move forward; alone. And I want it to be that way. Because none of them ever really cared about me. I just wanted them to. But something’s different, now; I care about myself.
I’m nearing my second week of withdrawals, horrible opiate withdrawals. The worst imaginable. Suboxone withdrawals.
I never realized my state of mind until I stopped, though. I’m glad I did, even though the last week of my life has been utter hell. Sweating, cramps, restlessness, insomnia, fever, lethargy… I’ve slept no more than 2-3 hours a night for the past week straight. It’s ridiculous.
I’m 1,500 miles away from home, in a low-rent apartment, and all I have is $7.00. My brother won’t come through for me, as much as he says he “will”. I always thought people would help support me when I needed it. I guess I was mostly wrong. At least I have a roommate who is also in the same state of being….
