submerge
Noah’s Flood from Gustave Doré Bible engravings
familiar twinges
my mind body recoiling
my muscles ignore the brain
inevitable, they say succumb
to the warmth pity immerses me
presupposes sorrow
and never be happy
find joy and sorrow
in what has not come
regret the past
All you have present.
failure
failure
quitter
quitter
quitter
wordsthatfloatedthroughtheairandmy
head
sure is what i say because all are
true, yet all are not bad
better now than later,
better here than there,
better i tried than not
sure is how I feel
scared…my future
wheredomydreamsgofromhere?
tom
2-25-01
lazy flies
piece and void
sucked from my heart
as the melody is brought in
love and friendship is momentarily gone
loneliness takes the place of smiles and wonder
the pressure of a non-functioning brain pushes
the last of my creativity falls
splashes like so much blood onto the page
fingers twitching in the final throes of life
typing its own eulogy
putrid
authoritative-decapitation no longer
stymies
progress, only encourages.
grudge and spite, only for self-indulgence, are
at the wayside of
creativity
spit
on and
rub
away mucky
smudge,
I see the embryo of hate move within
open and dig through the
sludge
for the
stainless steel nugget,
black core of
truth and self worth
What was once mocked and derided as miniscule,
ineffectual
now screeches its call, its warning
Its one eye ever more vigilant without its mate
It is vengeful
It is spiteful
It has no mercy
Despite who is worshiped in defense
It claws open to see inside out
the putrid filth that caused
deception, corruption, and hate
It has no mercy
Olaf
Jan 26, 2011
liMbo sskin
skimming along the lip of the flayed film of a life that is barely
mine
my leash had frayed, torn and I have been running
free
in a fog ever since
limbo between one’s light and my coveted
darkness
this darkness satiates me replenishes my
lifeblood
feedback loop of perception my only reality
pieces of others lain across my skin, I mimic others
a shuffling and moaning
facsimile
mishmash ransom note cut of a
human
customized Abyss
Head swimming and
cajoling to the piercing sound of
nothingness
Eyes pushed nearly
out their sockets
by his rebelling mind and
soul
Sneers of regret bred
from the fornication of
sloth and eroding
self-esteem
–Jan 30, 2008
loathsome
A lot of times, I feel as though I waste my time or that I am a waste of time.
“Why am I not doing that? Why did I do this when I could have done that?”
I could be a better father.
I could be a better husband.
Because I could be better means that I am not good enough.
If I could be better, I should be better; If I should be better and I am not, then I’m screwing up.
I feel insufficient and insecure.
I project that onto my loved ones, probably not as much as I think…but I do.
I yell, but not as much as I used to.
I get angry at my son, and that makes me feel guilty.
He’s autistic and sometimes I don’t give him enough slack.
He yells, I yell back.
I ask him to do something, and he yells at me and/or calls me names…more often than not I take it personally.
I feel weak.
When I read or work, I feel guilty. (I don’t work that much; it’s been slow.)
When I am tired, it is not always obvious to me that I need to go to bed.
I’ll watch a movie or research.
I have felt apathetic a lot lately, almost to the point where I need to remind myself to breathe.
I feel sad a lot.
I am on anti-anxiety medication and am in therapy.
I went from seeing my therapist from once a moth to once a week because I told psychiatrist about my apathy.
I lash out at my wife with sarcasm.
I have also opened up to her and stopped holding her responsible for our lack of communication…
I’m just communicating.
I have been listening to death/dark metal a lot.
I have also been listening to classical music.
Techno or electro rock, too.
I listen to anything that is loud and repetitious or sporadic and chaotic.
I make intermittent and random noises sometimes when things make me uncomfortable and awkward, such as thoughts or memories.
I love to watch horror movies if I am angry.
Sometimes I shut out my kids and my wife. Sometimes I run to them.
Sometimes I want to run away from myself.
Today, I told my wife that I don’t feel happiness like normal people.
I have been spontaneously crying at nothing a lot lately.
Sometimes, I am afraid to go outside or come into contact with anyone.
I indignantly point out to myself what other people are doing wrong.
I am scared of pretty much everything and everyone.
I hate talking on the phone to people.
Large crowds make me nervous.
One day, I am so happy that nothing can go wrong,
The next, I’ll shit on your doorstep for looking at me.
hollow
Tears well then flow
spontaneous
I move forward at snail’s pace only because that’s what I know
an automaton set into perpetual motion,
fueled by denial
No longer intimate,
estranged
I have separated from my self-esteem, we sleep in separate beds
I am wooden.
I am dormant.
I am hollow.
void
numb
numb, no tears
numb, remind myself to breathe
numb, withdrawn inside my head
numb and alone
alone
The scream, wail, and thump.
a tear flows, audibly scraping and scratching down my stone cheeks; ears thrum and my face is awash. In a sigh, my face tingles and courses in a flush of heat. Anger and sadness wash out. Floating before me in a steam, only to return as I inhale.
the scream, wail, and thump.
momentary respite from the lashing and flogging,
a layer of frost appearing after a warm breath, the numbness returns.
apathy slackens the muscles, sluicing away all emotion, an all too customary ablution in my cubicle of unwanted, yet comfortable loathing.
Brain Fodder
The rubbing on my cranium, an embryo shifting and turning; gestating and growing, my brain has become fodder for the ideas of the throbbing that skulks to the other side of my head, bedding down for the long winter that is night. Sibilance in my head masks the conspirators coming to the front as independent thought and then flees of into the night, lost.
Blank and staring, the balls of my hands melted in place, I type without letters and the digits are missing, a caul over my mouth, scabbed and sealed, but my eyes are glued open wide and my ears filter out no decibel.
bURN&bLEED
I wanted to write before the responsibility block I am experiencing turns into writer’s block. In a funk. Financial issues are slowly coming to a head, and my wife and I are avoiding responsibility. For once, I would like to act and not think of the consequences. To do something and not worry about it, analyze it, break it down, and justify everything. Sometimes I just want things to go away. Not everyone, just all the things that make this life suck.
It is so easy to blame. Blame, however comes with guilt. Guilt for knowing you are wrong while wanting to suffer someone else the same. To make them look into the mirror and hate what they see, to loath their own existence and bloody their knuckles and fingers smashing their reflection…too scared to harm themselves.
The life and love we create have nothing to do with us, ourselves, as individuals. The life and love we live are mere manifestations of who we want to be. We marry who we love, but we also marry who we wish we could be, and we love what we create, but we create who we wanted to be. We put leashes on both wanting to protect, but we restrain and hold back.
The mirror is smashed because I know I can never be who they are, who they will be. The mirror is smashed because the knuckles need to bleed and burn. The mirror is smashed because life is foreign and domestic. To live, I need to burn. To live I need to bleed.
Bleed and burn and live.
The Brain of hawkdad73 