Temporaneousiality

 

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.

Nostalgic pathos…

 

--

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.

=

Feed

I don’t miss much;

I don’t miss you…

Dashed

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.

Life… Life is alright on the Rhine…

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…

=

Hunger pangs…

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.

Mój Ból

“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…

=

Mountain Halo

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.

Everyone walks alone; we don’t care, here we are; we proclaim the start of…

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.

They call it night, they call it night, and I know it well…

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.

Give me peace and chemicals, I want to run into…

 

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.

Abutting, Dismantling

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

Religion

‘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

This is just a dream,
just a flaw in the seams,
touching ground…
touching everything
This is just a dream,
just a flaw in the seams,
touching ground…
touching everything
This is just a dream,
just a flaw in the seams,
touching ground…
touching everything
This is just a dream,
just a flaw in the seams,
touching ground wide…
touching everything

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.

A Fine Day to Exit

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……………………………………

Viva Emptiness

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.

Apologies; the frame is fried.

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….