Having that hard time
Relating to young rhyme
Each year passing
Pushing me past
My sell by date
Not intended to make you feel bad
Just a life lived
Gives perspectives you’ll never have
That empathy gained
From the shard poking through skin
From years when
To touch me was to come away bloody
There is a broken
That hurts so much
That spreading that pain
Is the only thing that brings temporary relief
Until the pain you cause leads to the spiral down
And here I am at the end of a long road
Looking towards the next journey
And just wondering how to leave the pain
Behind
If I even can
Or maybe it’s just this deep hope
That maybe there is a future
Where happiness is present
Rather than at so so distant remove
The briefest hint of orange and chocolate
The phantom of a phantom
One step removed from a memory
Instead, just wandering
How to be lost when all around you are destinations
There’s no bells ringing here
No messages
Just make that decision
And wander into the break
One last attempt at drowning
One last retreat
A kiss made from yearning
Instead of a choice to be better
Words and pain tumble out
And only sleep
Offers refuge
#streamofconsciousness
Wind moves the tag on a pillow out the corner of my eye
My eye is drawn to movement and in movement I an free
In chaotic acts I am action and decisions
But in the quiet normal, that time in the calm which stills but is not still
In that time I am uneasy
My blood moves under my skin and I feel my heart beating
Open my mouth and hear the heart valves opening and closing
In the extremes of chaos and true calm
Whether in the heat of tumult or in the quiet where the world itself seems to pause
In those moments I am simply myself
And I am enough
And feel competent, complete,
And it’s so easy to live for those moments
But they fade and are gone so quickly
How can you live for what are just minutes in a lifetime?
Instead, I force myself to be
To try to see the chaotic spin and the terrible silence
In the normal day of going to work
Of going to meetings
Of just simple life
Because lifes too long to live for the thrill
And too short by far to wait for it all to be still
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Deep rifts which, bottomless, we nevertheless must jump
Broken down epiphany
broke, sitting outside a locked car
Wondering how to break in
Keys sitting in the ignition
Waiting to be turned
Looking around
Hoping the Gang in blue
Passes me by
I swear it’s mine
But what goods swearing when you are brown
Not gonna matter
Sometimes invisible is the best you get
I remember
In my youth daring anything in the world to touch me
A promise of bloody retribution living in my heart
How naive I was
Or was it that without anything to lose that life was just less valuable
My life and theirs
Though I still hold no value for lives of those who wrong me
Now, I hold my life valuable
Forced to acknowledge that the path that was past
Is long gone
And any action has deep repercussions
Though I think about the last hurrah
And play a game
One I’ll likely never put my quarter into and roll the dice
What can we do
Shouting from the rooftops
Wondering if we’re heard
Wondering if it matters
Just a silent majority
Our voices hoarse from screaming
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Spinneret
Give me a good time
A time of rhythm and rime
Past wrongs right
Past lives given fines
Traveling past the barrier of mind
One last trip round the sun
Then I’m gone
Just a spec of dust
Made from stars
Waiting for the wheel of wheels to slow down
Another lifetime
Another chance
Challenge nightmares to a dance
One filled with hope and broken feet
Pains just the memory of being whole
Give me a taste of that sweet beginning
That first rush when power is realized
That first crush when it fails
I miss that blind certainty of youth
Yearn for days perceived as good
The mythic past
The mythic future
One more twist
One more thread
Oh, give me a life well lived
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Almost rhyming makes me sleepy
Fever from exhaustion and aches from reluctance
Stress responses to unbearable situations
Call me broken
Of the mind perhaps, the body certainly
But not the heart
And ain’t that some weird shit
To have things flipped table like that
But still that familiar song of close but not close enough plays on the radio
Turning that dial, looking for a stronger frequency
Rolling those dice hoping for a triple hard eight
To run the board and let it ride
Until dreams become reality
But reality is wicked
It does care what you want, only what bargain will you make
Because that’s how it is here
We sell our time, physical or mental
And what’s the price tag on a new life
Hard to buy when you are still making installments on the one you have
Just broke enough to know that you aren’t broke
Alive, paying bills, told to cut back on that overpriced coffee that tastes like freedom and for a few sips you get to forget that the rent is due and food is running low.
Buying everything cheap
Instead of well, because saving costs to much, can’t go to work if you aren’t wearing shoes
Pull yourself up by your bootstraps
That’s some non-newtonian physics
Smiling faces like they’ve done you a favor
Tired of this broken wheel
This simulation
Fucking programmers
Always introducing new bugs with each new sketch update
Fuck it
I gotta live here
What happens when it goes away
Futures uncertain but still
I can always depend on being wide awake when it’s time to sleep
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Hunting for beginning
The problem with writing about inner turmoil is that as you deal with your emotional trauma that voice which drives you to write gets quieter and quieter
Sometimes depression yells pretty loudly, sometimes anxiety breaks through and gibbers all over the page. But that bleak dying cry from the abyss is silent. And this is better, I know it’s better. It’s just hard to reach that emotional depth. And I wonder if the wounds are really healed or if there’s just so much scar tissue that I can’t feel through it.
I feel like I cry about things which never would have touched me before. I don’t know if that’s progress or emotional honesty. I’m on a self guided journey. There are good and bad things to celebrate in that, but sometimes, you just want someone to tell you that you are doing the right thing. But who can? When you are adrift in the wilderness.
Even when you are with someone, you are alone. What else could you be, in the white noise silence. In the space of their lives and the distance between you
Pelgris 