Anxiety dreaming

I had an awful horrible dream. I was downtown for first Friday(an art and food thing) but I was also down there to retake a class in grade school. As myself not as a kid. And the teacher had reserved me a place right at the front. Then an adjacent classroom played a famous jazz song super loud and she started acting and singing like a jazz singer but completely out aync with the music and she had somehow transformed into a 1930s flapper. And the room transformed from a classroom to an upperclass parlor. Her manservant came in and offered her cakes and food and she declined all but a black and white. Then I was driving. I parked an headed to work but not before reminiscing with the crossing guard that this area used to be all construction and I remember drinking beer at lunch with my father on the job(never happened).

I was then in an elevator up to my futuristic bedroom and I met my older brother there and we talked about the woman I was seeing. After I talked to him for a bit I found myself on my phone. Scrolling through various messaging systems and I realize that this person I’m seeing has ghosted me. And I feel heartbroken and lost, like one does. I wander and find myself in a music shop where I meet a DJ who is demoing progressive drum and bass but who buries signal for some underground movement in it. I go to buy a copy but to do so you have to get it mailed an I don’t have any stamps. I pull up google maps on my phone and we have an argument about big data. Then I head off and I decide fuck it. I don’t owe this guy anything so I head back to my car with the intention of going home. I arrive at my car and find the windshield plastered by pseudo official tickets because there was a blue arrow painted on the ground to indicating handicapped parking. That’s not a clear symbol or a legal one, so I’m like fuck it. Then the security guard wanders by and she says “thought you could slink away, huh”

Then my alarm rings. And I’m left with this feeling of failure and sadness on waking.

Give me an enemy, someone to fight, but don’t give me this emptiness

Every word read cuts like a knife through flesh made tender by the pounding of fists
Glances through doorways during meetings sends the mind tailspinning through all the possibilities of what they are saying about me
And I know that these words weren’t written about me…probably
And I know that those glances are an attempt at distraction during a boring meeting…most likely
But feeling isn’t logic and pain doesn’t care why
It Wraps its chains and drags one down making each step harder
Until sleep is both the enemy and the only retreat
Until longing for arms to hold me gives me pause and exhaustion forces its way in and into cold plunges of water which mask the symptoms
“You’re looking better…”
For now, for now but sleep is the liar
And too much breaks the will as easily as too little
And blood on the water has the sharks circling

Poets rarely seem to have happy lives

Sometimes you have a good night. Not great. Not revealing. Just good enough.

And on these nights, I think. I think, if I died, it would be enough. Not good. Not right. But enough, I think.

Morgan is long gone. Even her faintest echos are lost to me.
All who I’ve loved have gone or walked into their own futures.
And while I love my friends, you can’t live for them.
They have their own lives. No matter how much you love them. No matter how much you need someone to hold you in the silence.

Enough. Enough now.

Post script
I’ll take no action. Fear of the horizon and hope for what might be, will always call to me.

But really, without that spark of music, that waking, that breathe that is love. Without…

Find joy in what you have. Best I can do is ready.

Only my own fingers touch my lips

Sky weeps
Steady dreams floating down
Crashing against glass
Bleeding into gutters
Tears fall from gods seeing into hearts gone silent
Slow yet terminal
Audible pop
Hitting concrete
So tiny the sting
So slight
What distance traveled to die on my skin
What did you hope to be
Before you fell
Thank you
Thank you
I have none left
Thank you for turning the world
Into my heart

Lost in the ruins of failed choices

Heart cries in pain
Mind searches for anything to feel
Anything but this
Grasping for short lived pleasure
Mewling when will fends away destruction
Holding on by fingernails
All the while yearning for someone to take choices away
To force sensation
Anything but bitter broken glass
But callous hands
Offered when the lights go out
When even grey Lifeless
Is better than drowning
Lost
Adrift without tether
Hopes quailed and fled

Mirror image frowns in too patient disapproval

I wish in these moments of quiet reflection that I was more than this collection of bones stretched thin and lips held silent

I wish I was filled with light and good choices and could see roads forward that led me to my hearts repose instead of being stuck on this roundabout

I wish I could be content in a life of being alone. In this days stretched out unrelenting without
So much easier to dream than live out paths of blood and hope

I wish…but I’m a contrary man, never trusting what comes too easy. Sabotage joy before it begins with choices made too close to the impossible
Begging to be chosen but setting the scene to be left
Or maybe I’m just looking for someone to blame and I could never cast aspersions on someone I love

In our silences, we must all find our own reasons to stay

In the depths
In the dark
Pressure pulling down
Feet covered in muck
Lungs slowly empty
No panic
Accepted endings
Dying by inches
Unseen in the dark

Faces peer down
Passing by
Looking into the water
Seeing only reflection
Smiling

Pushing free
Swimming up
Breaking surface
Breathing in
Forgoing dissolution
…and maybe peace

To spit in their eyes and stand defiant

Long slow fall to the cold stare of the middle distance

These long hours of silence
Of hearing white noise hearts and swift blood
Attenuation
Feeling cotton abrasion from old cloth pressed down against skin
The soft of new starched straight yet pliable
These textured off white walls and bed splashed crimson hoping to wake in core some semblance of joy

But the quiet stretches out
And too tired soul
Weary from fighting for smiles and hopes
Falls to knees
Beaten without solace

The shiver as hair raises against skin pushing out
Adrenaline wanting nothing more than a few minutes until exhaustion leads its way through collapse
The beckoning oblivion of sleep
To dream of lives unlived
To be for those few minutes happy

An edifice collapsing under the weight of its needs
Too much for any person to sustain
That subtle lack of home
While house stands

Places feel so empty
Without

Tapped out juggernaut

wish I could turn off my brain
turn it off and just be happy
turn it off and just remember
turn it off and just be

instead I dull it
break it
sleep away my time
passing away
as if time wasn’t all that I owned
and these thoughts that just won’t shut off

wish I didn’t read a thousand interpretations in a silence
in a smile
in a phrase

learned paranoia becomes just paranoid
taught myself to see all the angles
now I see right angles in circles
and I just want it to stop

and when I’m better
and when your there
I feel like I’m normal
like I got it mostly handled
and who are those people who feel like this
every day

who don’t see a cliff and for just a quarter of a second think about jumping
who don’t lose relationships because they second guess themselves until their person wonders why they aren’t second guessing too
who don’t work themselves into such stress that they lose sleep

who don’t find themselves awake at four am, yearning

But that’s not gonna be me
I’m the broken brain and broken heart
But not about you
just some weeks are harder than others
and I don’t know how to say it’ll be ok while I’m being not ok and just want to be held
but that can’t happen cause I’m supposed to be the strong one
the dominant
can’t show weakness though I’m riddled with holes
holes papered over but still bleeding
Never fully healed
but sometimes fully functioning

hard to know when to start talking
and never have I known when to stop