Sweat takes over my skin peeling layers of invisible masks yearning for chemical feedings. It's been days- I've been thinking slow and fragile. Bedtime has no name and it hurts. There's caution in my eyes screaming " Stay Away"! Drowning in my own body of water. "Come Clean" he whispers.
Solace and silence. I want. Dirty migraines to migrate forever. Shivers to shed as I travel back into time -not swallowing so much inside to feel OK with chemicals balancing brain beats. "Come Clean" he whispers. Flashback: I see the love of my life holding a ring on the day strange beauty died in his arms. Images creep of a little boy begging for my wake. Awake I stay.
Beginnings to a next day with no recollection. Trying to find expression in lost graphs and schedules that were once dictated by "the medicine". It made sense. Cycling back and forth through highs and lows trying to remember that God made all things. "Come clean".
In this moment I want to live only because in the next moment I'll be dead- again. I can hear the race of my heart and I want a beautiful design only because in the next moment I will come down and want nothing." Come clean".
In this moment I convince myself to skip my daily dose only because a PHD took away the nightly dose. "Come clean".
Relapse. In this moment I swallow untitled entries to close my mind from a few moments.
Drapes of madness cover the sky
As fiends run and cower to hide
Nevertheless they prey on the young
As the young go to sleep
When the light breaks through the village womb
The delirium burrows to sleep
Oil paintings of bride and groom
Made for fiends to keep
Friends of fiends mope and mope
Lamenting in fear; they cope and cope
Hence their gentle persistence
To shy away their evil
Sky shifts from orange vigor to madness
The fangs of loved ones feed off one another
Fiends run and cower to their only Mistress
Deep within the sappy dark cypress
When their bodies frolic with need
The pale eyes of love dance and feed
Luminous they are in front of black cloth
Draping the beautiful sky
Once I undertook a journey,
Out upon and completely around,
the very face of our entire world.
To view for myself the many pictures,
And written descriptions of all the writers
In all those History Classes, books and movies.
My personal Quest to see with my own eyes
What I had only experienced second hand.
And in my mid twenties, like a dream,
One foot in front of the other,
There I was doing it.
I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands,
Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry,
fried snake and even monkey brains.
Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands,
Along the shores of many Islands and the coasts
Of Four Continents’.
Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects
And cultures. Smiling and laughing with,
The beautiful children of all of them.
Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men,
Heard their chants to their gods above,
Or upon the land and sea.
Clapped my hands and moved my feet in
Their Ancient mystic dances.
Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared
Grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood.
Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains
In the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the
Face of the God of my youthful teachings,
Mildly disappointed when I did not see him, or Her.
Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted to me
By Red robbed Monks from within their chants of
Peace and wise earthly enlightenment.
Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year
Old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of
Nearly forgotten once great Civilizations.
Explored Modern Euopean Citiadels of wealth and learning.
Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks,
Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways,
Rented motorcycles and cars. Walked perhaps a 1000 miles.
In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting for over three years.
And why you might ask, why travel so far, for so long?
And what was I looking for? A fair question indeed.
When a boy, I read a simple five word line,
“Seek and thee shall find”.
And it stayed with me all my life.
I read books, saw films, did Research,
all in a quest to understand,
what those five words truly meant.
After a stint in the Military,
still wondering and seeking,
I embarked on my own personal,
physical and emotional Journey.
The next obvious question you might
of course ask is, after all that;
“What did I find?”
Well I guess the answer is very simple,
after all that, I found myself.
She was not a cliché kind of beautiful,
but she was not a ‘rare’ kind of beautiful.
She was humanly beautiful, in the most natural way.
She was earthly though she didn’t mean to be, it came easily to her without effort.
She was intelligently beautiful, with wit and charm that came smoothly.
It didn’t make her intimidating though, no no, never.
She was kindly beautiful, in the way that
someone could slap her and she would retaliate with only gentleness,
but that did not make her vulnerable, it made her mature.
But most of all, as many may of seen it, she was physically beautiful.
Not in the sense of a perfect body and flawless features, no, she was beautiful to look at
because her face radiated all her other beauties.
You could see her charm in the way her eyes dazzled, and you could sense her wit in the way
she smirked before she said something.
Her always blushed cheeks eternally made people around her feel comfortable, even if
they disliked her..
for she was understanding and soft, like a young girl.
And lastly, she was beautiful appearance wise.
Though she was not perfect, for the boy didn’t have a definition for that yet,
he found her peaking towards it.
Her smile was not one of a model or an angel.
In fact, in his eyes, her worst feature was her smile, as horrid as it sounded.
To the boy, she had never smiled.
Everytime she laughed or ‘smiled’ as someone greeted her, she looked pained..
like she wanted to cry.
Her smiles were never real, though he knew she wanted them to be genuine.
That was the thing, she was genuine, but her smiles were not.
He knew, as much as she denied it, that her smiles were always forced and never true.
He knew this in the only way one knows when they’re in love.
He’d watched for countless nights as she reached her fantasies, sitting by herself,
books scattered around her as she read her favourite fairytales for the hundreth time.
He watched as she giggled over the same jokes and cried over the same deaths,
but he focused on her especially when she reached her favourite part of the story.
Her eyes would brighten and her shoulders would rise slightly,
and she’d do this silly little thing where she would put her tongue in between her teeth,
that drove him mad, but he grew to love it.
And at last he had seen her smile, as her soft dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth,
and her eyes crinkled ever so slightly, nose scrunching up the tiniest bit.
But just as he found himself getting lost in her beautiful smile, she would look up from her book and leave her world for a while, smile dropping and shoulders hunching as she told him
to get some rest, for every following day to her would be a long one.
And that was how he knew, the girl would never be in love like he was, she would never,
as understanding as she was, grasp that someone could possibly love as madly as he did.
She would never allow him to peek into her fantasies, let alone give him her heart.
But the boy was afraid she already had his in tight grip, and he would never have hers.
Souls standing in line
As the world pulls out its knife
To whittle them down
Carve up their lives
Does it have an idea
An insatiable need
As it keeps whittling
On them endlessly
You do have to wonder
What it truly sees
As it carves on you
And whittles on me
Like an old mountain man
By a cool mountain stream
With Father Time standing by
The world keeps on whittling
And it'll certainly not tolerate
Any back talk from you
Just sit still and be quite
Like a good piece of wood
As the world whistles
It whittles away
Impressed with itself
At the carvings it's made
But if it whittles to much
And doesn't care for the you that it's made
The world tosses you out
And lets the dogs play
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I take a breath and hold.
I tell myself,
“Pick up the pieces…
Because nobody else will.”
You’re not coming back.
And why would you?
Why would I expect you to walk backwards through this cold, storming heart?
It’s freezing rain,
I guess you could say I trust myself about as much as you do.
Trust, what a funny word, I think,
Because everybody wants it but nobody gives it.
We walk around demanding trust from each other,
But nobody really gives the benefit of the doubt to anyone else.
The ones that do end up cold and broken,
Singing sad songs in their cars on a drive going nowhere.
The thought of driving makes me dizzy now,
Because being able to feel something for the first time in months
Has made me not want to let go of the air lying still in my compressed lungs…
To feel the burning of desire for oxygen,
This internal battle reaching for the end,
Lungs squeezing tighter, suffocation…
Everything is so dark right now that it is beginning to look bright.
Funny how the lack of something you can’t live without makes you delusional.
When you’re so caught up in something that you could fix,
You forget how to fix it.
Like that my lungs know all I need to do is inhale,
But the lack of oxygen in my brain is confusing my entire body.
It almost feels good, being able to feel the pain.
Sometimes I think I deserve this…
This pain that is rushing through my veins at this very second.
Like it is my own fault,
And I feel I need to prove the capacity of my own breathing,
The ability to stop it if I want to.
And I know that if you have been following along,
You and I both need to breathe because your lungs are about to give up…
I finally exhale.
I take a large breath in,
And feel my heart rejoicing as blood pumps through rapidly,
My body’s way of thanking me for not ending it now…
Instantly, I’m crying.
Because I feel numb already.
Numbness is an interesting feeling,
Or lack thereof,
Because even though tears are leaving my eyes,
My nerves and emotions feel unsettlingly calm.
It feels like when I swim out far enough into the ocean that
The waves stop crashing on you and begin swaying underneath,
Moving you as you float on your back.
That moment of utter peace and confusion before a wave finally carries you back.
I’ve been floating out here for some time, now, though,
Waiting for my wave or my raft or even my shark,
To either save me or end me,
Because I am so sick of this emotionless limbo I am stuck in
Due to the fact that I have forgotten how to swim.
Out here, peaceful music plays,
And I forget about everything for a moment or a lifetime.
I think of all the things I have messed up.
But if there’s one thing I wish I could change,
It’s hurting you.
I’m feeling myself being slowly pulled back to shore,
By a figure who looks just like you…
Suddenly, I am remembering how to move my arms and legs,
You just stare at me, though,
You don’t try to help me and you don’t acknowledge my presence.
It seems as if you’ve been waiting to watch me drown.
I don’t have to wonder why you aren’t extending your hand for me.
I wouldn’t help me either.
Finally, a wave falls on top of me, spinning me in circles.
You seem so close, though,
Almost ready to pull me from this high tide.
Are you ready to pull me away from the ocean?