I am afraid.
Today I woke up
Scared of many things.
Scared like I would be anyway
That tick tick tick
In a few days
You will be gone altogether.
Scared more because
I feel myself reaching for you
And I can't stop.
Just because I haven't heard your voice in days
And something happened inside me
That needs that comfort to heal.
I was scared of my pancakes.
They were a challenge.
It has been days since food has made me anything but nauseous.
They steamed on my plate
Hot and sweet and doused in thick syrup.
I stared them down.
I tried hard to lift my fork.
Set it down.
Moved on to my coffee.
Its sweetness, too, sickened me.
I was afraid of that coffee.
As if it would suddenly strike
Like a cobra.
I was afraid
Of every person in that room.
I was afraid
Of my hands.
I was afraid
Of my heartbeat.
I was afraid
And your silence.
I laughed with my friends
And I was afraid
Of my laugh.
Afraid of how they didn't know
How scared I was.
Afraid that I would just slip and tell them
And they would support me
And it wouldn't help.
I excused myself,
Went to the small private little bathroom
I locked the door and tried to cry.
I felt sick
But nothing there, either.
Finally I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror
(You called them beautiful the other day)
(That thought flashed through my mind
And I saw it strike a spark of longing inside them
But it quickly died.)
"I don't want to be mean.
But if I'm not mean, you don't listen.
People say never to put yourself down
But if I am not harsh it doesn't get through.
You are being stupid. Grow up. Live. Eat something
Nothing bad has happened.
And if you do not see her again for six months
You have lost much, much more before.
You stand up tall like you've earned.
Come on, just stop this."
I stared back, hollow looking.
I pulled up the bottom of my shirt
Let my stomach out as far as it would go.
It made no difference to my waistline at all.
I was afraid
I pulled it down and grabbed the edges of the sink,
"You are DYING. You are starving inside,
Don't do it outside.
Let me eat.
Now you're going to go out there
And you're going to smile
Like nothing has ever scared you.
And none of those people will know you thought any of this
And none of those people will see your terror in your eyes
Will be your strength.
If you refuse to feel better
I'll be damned if anybody will see it."
I took a deep breath
And in the mirror
My face settled into a calm mask
The face of a girl who had just had pancakes for breakfast
Who had a final to study for
Who had friends to laugh with
Whose day was ordinary.
A hint of a smile on my lips
A lift to my eyes.
I know just how
To rearrange my face.
(The goal is
People's eyes will slide right over it
And not take in any traitorous details.
Feng Shui, and all that.)
And the satisfaction settled over me
That at least there was that.
All of a sudden
The girl in the mirror wasn't afraid
Even if I
I walked back out
And laughed with my friends
And ate my breakfast
With every bite.
When I was young once my pastor taught
The tale Genesis, how God with care
Unto hard clay breathed conscious thought.
As the wind would blow I’d say a prayer
And feel His breath, the hot gust of air
The trees that swayed were His great chest
The leaves that fell were kissed and blessed.
I spread my arms towards the sky
And knew He could make me fly.
I closed my eyes, and on tip-toe
Soared high to heavens, earth below.
Far above the pale green pastures
And winding roads, filled with rapture
I saw where the path would end,
What the course of life would lend.
Unchained and free, I knew at last
What shores we'd reach, when we are passed.
Our clumsy bodies tie us down,
But souls are free, and never bound.
And as the day faded to night
I had to end my sacred flight
Fall back to earth, where reason rules
Where those who soar
Are simple fools.
Am I sick?
I think I need some help or a swift kick in the ass perhaps
Maybe I need meds
Maybe I need to be committed
Perhaps i'm just depleted
I've been used, abused, and so misunderstood
Such a dumb girl
With such a broken soul
No tears to cry or place to call my own
I am alone or at least that's how I feel
No one gets it or cares to even try
So why do I?
I am dead
My insides are black and rotten
My heart is like stone
My spirit does not shine
There is no light in my eyes
No spark in my soul
Just a dark lonely hole
I am empty, hollow
so tired am I
I'm weary and cannot find rest
I am heavy like the heart in my chest
I am a nothing, a nobody
going no where in this place called life
A good for nothing mom
I have no patience
I have no time
No purpose or cause
Nothing I believe in
Nothing I strive for more than to escape
I want out of this hell I've made for me
Bitter and made of stone
I have nothing more to give
My bones feel so brittle as if one big squeeze
would cause them to disintegrate into ashes
Every angry, cruel word spoken cuts me a little deeper
Promises made and words not kept
have made me so numb to anything anyone could ever say
No dreams for me anymore
Nothing to hope for
My blood sometimes boils with anger
I get hot all over
So much pent up aggression inside me
If I were to ball up my fist and punch something it would explode
Glum is a good word to describe how I feel
Tattered and torn
Why was I ever born?
What is my lot in this life?
What purpose am I to serve
Dumb ass feelings
Stupid ass pride
I have nothing
I am nothing
If I could find a dark hole I could just crawl into
I would stay there forever and die there too
Why are people so bad to each other?
Why do we hurt each other so?
I'm tired of feeling confused
Unable to make decisions
Sick of the consequences
Tired of being walked on
Sick and tired of being lied too
So exhausted from being confused
I don't know what everyone wants
or what I want too
Trying to please everyone is getting so old
Always put myself last
Yet you call me selfish
What am I suppose to do?
How am I suppose to feel?
What does everyone want from me?
I'm stretched so thin
I'm about to unravel
I'm always riding the fence
Get drunk and cut is about to be my only option
Run away and never look back
Leave everything I've ever known
I'm so unsure all the time
It's almost as if I'm paranoid
Always watching my back
scared all the time
When will this all go away?
I don't know how much more I can take
I'm about to burst into a million pieces
My chest is tight
My lungs about to explode
It's like I'm always trying to escape myself
It's like I'm drowning
I want out of my mind
I don't want to think
The more I do the faster I sink
I want to scream and let it all out
I want to have faith and never doubt
Will someone please save me,
I'm begging you to!
Don't let me slip back into this dark abyss
I don't want to feel like this anymore
Please won't somebody rescue me?!
Please save me from myself!
Don't let me die like this
Copyright © 2013 by Ashley Rodden
I'm not proud
I'm not proud to be black
I wanted to be born white
I want my hair permanent straight
without relaxer or hot combing.
I can't be white I want to be lighter skinned.
I want my skin bleached and
I want to be lighter brown like white men like.
I want blue eyes
I want green eyes
I want to be pretty no ugly
I want contacts and hate my glasses.
I hate me and want to be white
I wish I wish I wish but wish
The Night King Ego died...
The time, the place, the setting:
T'is some hour for sleep, prescribed,
For me, the reality of sleep, proscribed.
The strains of Bach's
Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major
Richard II's words
Give pause, precision refinement of my cause courant.
“No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth”
Two am in New York, sleep,
Literally, a passing acquaintance,
Doesn't make it to
The side of the bed occupied by
100% of me.
Seems he went
From chimney to chimney
This past Sunday morn.
Not having a chimney,
He flue right over me.
Ego and moi,
We, had a long talkie.
A bit of a wrestle, a staring contest
In a mirror, we watched ourselves,
In the pitch black
where clarity is perfect,
For nothing else exists,
But ego and me,
To distract us.
“I'll read enough
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
Give me that glass and therein will I read.
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine
And made no deeper wounds?
O flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity
Thou dost beguile me!”
Called my lawyer just now,
ordered her to commence
the divorce papers, serve them ASAP,
I need to rid myself of
My oldest nemesis, my oldest friend,
Mine vanity, my ego.
Let me explain
myself to myself.
You may tag along for the ride.
Writing is more important
than any of the individual
That feed this addiction.
Without sound, sight, touch, smell and taste,
I can live quite well,
But bloody boy mind needs to write
No write, no life.
But bloody bad boy ego is a curse,
A contaminate of each and every
Line, stanza,word and verse.
"Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin”
At first, for an audience of three
Me, myself and I.
But the suckiness creepeth in,
and etches my distorted face,
Salutations and gradations,
Of Shakespearen magnification.
Do you like me?
Do you love me?
Curse ye King Ego and your vainglorious occupations,
Divorce me, from the sad isle of
Pride, vanity insurance,
The most deadly of the seven
Ego desperate in kind responds:
"I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?”
Slime and slippery, want is what you feel,
Taste grief, need friends,
Sly devil, you twist thy cunning tongue,
The reverse, your plain meaning!
You need nothing but subjects,
In earnest and forever praise,
Absent them, you mood and whine,
A pretender, a poseur, a drug addict cursed!
Let us purpose to dispose of thy spirit earthly,
Slow starvation too good for you,
Poison, arrows, the hilt of my blade,
The neck, thine bowel,
Let me embrace,
Prefer your steel hot or cold?
If we both must expire, then it be so, for
My honor taken, my life forsaken,
My poetry in disrepute,
Until that day when I write for me alone,
And ally my scripts, in coffin, with me interred.
"My dear, dear Lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation; that away
Men are but gilded loan or painted clay...
Mine honor is my life; both grow in one;
Take honor from me, and my life is done."
Number me thus, in the company of
The good but the forgot,
Still will be of cheer goodly,
For tho Sodom could not be saved,
Not one good man found in the bloody lot,,
Except for one, the truest audience of one,
Thus I will be saved, thus, call me, Lot.
My battle to destroy my ego is minute to minute hand to hand combat. That is me, and my truth.
Fully expect a few reads and even fewer "likes."
Which if the poem you comprehend, that would be,
a river. a sister born without eyes. a sponge that is not your mother’s mouth.
commonplace is a toddler’s map. memory an unremarkable trauma.
I sign to sister how there’s no hot water in the house & count father’s burn money
where you can see it.
the son most likely to catch a program on flamingos
thinks of himself on one leg
and of a land
a man is standing on a kitchen table gripping a broom.
his inbox will fill for three days
before the dogs
memory does not serve the woman
more to love
than the once
a day glimpse
or quick meet
on the field
with her love
time to talk
or to kiss
she wants to
to make love
(at least try
what she'd read
in that book
the big girl
had shown her
and loaned her)
she wants now
to feel him
(as the book
to be one
and in heart
to sense his
lips on hers
to feel him
kiss her bits
lids of eyes
her small tits
but in class
bored to tears
she thinks on
whose warm lips
had met hers
in the gym
close to him
on the floor
but the bell
rang its chime
no more time
just the caught
of what they
did and not
bored and hot.
The year of the big boys and girls
Class sweatshirts, Uploaded pictures from the lunch lady, and shutting down newcomers
Every weekend we'll go to Avalon
But we're feeling chill we'll probably visit a village
Maybe even the Street of Arabs for clouds
The girls will be hot
While the boys will be rocks
Graduation will be rich in joy, relief, and nostalgia
Walking on the grays streets
with the heads looking the ground
no feelings in the skin
like a hungry crowd
Your eyes are dead
and your step are slow
Your hand by your neck
and you wanna scream "come on"!
You start to sweat, and can´t blame the hot!
Cause you are
a little star
but your shine is off
cause you are
a fucking slave
and in your life
has never been loved
you´re running so fast
you must scape
and nobody can make
that you stay there
Your God is died and
you´re a dawn bitch
you wanna cry
but you´re strong for that
Believe in me!
Cause you are
a little star
but you shine is off
Cause you are
a sad slave
and in your life
you never been loved.
The rabbit and the hole.
Like puzzle pieces left out in the rain.
Ex-communication leads to excommunication.
This is your brain on drugs.
suck the marrow dry.
the offer a pause,
as though we had ever begun to play.
Like a claustrophobic masochist,
leasing out a shoebox.
I want in for good.
I want out for life.
Lets play hide,
all the seekers are dead.