I cannot put my finger on my dissatisfaction

I cannot slake my thirst
I cannot sate my hunger
I cannot itch this scratch
I cannot imbibe it better
I cannot forget it, worse

deaf--dumb--blind--limp--sad--stupid

I feel I am seeing in the second dimension
when I know the fourth is called for, now!

I cannot expunge this record, these memories, or the lack thereof
I cannot remember the effort, or, where things stopped or started

I cannot describe this inexplicability,
I cannot remember the introductions

criss-cross logical thinking
twanging words, tungsten,
copper, and sheets of steel

sautered, bolted, shorted
circuits crackle and spark
blue like the ocean water
burning the water in skin

and I find nothing on an endless loop around the
Möbius strip, no, nothing, neither starts nor ends
I'm stuck in some Escher stairwell, so frustrating
I feel like an imbecile that knows not of a named
thing that stands before me, if it were a snake, it
would bite me, what, (                    ) it is so close?

boy, this stings,
this sucks to be

struck by something, and
                             I don't know
                                                             what

I cannot find relief from catharsis
no, that hasn't ever worked at all.

dizzying, myopic thing that keeps me awake
show yourself, show me how, or what, wants
this thing thing thing this thing of something.

I cannot find my (          ), no,
I cannot find anything at all.

Today I ripped up that inked paper
Crafted, inked sketched
To shorted the distance between our difference
Something that hasn’t happened yet
Negativity, is all it brings me
And it lays in pieces by my bed
Seeing what is there
Instead of what I made
Lays
Alone
In pieces
No one ever appreciated you
Not like me
Not like I do
In some ways
It was perfect
Celtics player
Patterns
Green sprayed across
A piece of paper that struggled
To say
It doesn’t have to be perfect
But I took it down
Because they never understood
What it stands for
Stood for
…. No shorter of a distance
Paper doesn’t make a bridge
to cross the gap
between the difference
of you and me.
today I ripped that paper

Comparisons can kill you.
I struggle with them.
We all do.

Your views are distorted.
Expectations are shorted.

Could you see what I see,
There'd be no negativity.

Wish you could be like her?
Cool minded, tall, and thin like her?
So focused on her you lost yourself.

9 times out of 10.
She too does not have super thick skin.

Secrets hide, deep within.
Wishing she was pretty enough,
Skinny enough,
Tall enough,
All for him.

Girls don't know is they should wait.
For the guy worthy of a date.

If he loves you, he'll take you the way you are.
He won't leave a mental scar,
Of how you aren't enough.
Because you are.

still thinking she's better than you?
think again.

Everyone's great in their own way.
Don't ruin your day.
Making a comparison
That will tear you down.

You are your own.
You are enough.

Why be someone whom you are not?

out of sorts
and sorted out;
in senses of shorts
and shorted for love.

caught in life
as i fell to death
to be caught stealing
your heart and your head
from the skin you'd held them in.
now they're caught up in me
and they're catching on;
i'm hardly thinking,
bleeding, and breathing.
i'm living.  imbalanced.

I wanted so badly to know:
how it felt to write without a thought, without a subject, without a pen.
I wanted to go somewhere that had light coming out of the darkness so that I'd have a direction.
There is no will call
Only role play.
I saw how the flecks of porcelain moonlight colored the water and thought how nice it would be to go down deep and sink to my ankles and into my bones.
What fish would try to save me?
What human would call my name with concern from the deck of a ship?
I wanted so badly to take up less space, to be a little green army man in the presence of giants and for my tummy to be taut and for bones to poke through my skin.
There wasn't an blip in the timeline of my heart, but there were curves and sharp spikes in it that broke through the screen.
This is me! Don't scream! This is me! Stop. Sit up and wait a little longer in the heat.
I wanted so badly to wake up in the cool night and instead I found myself gasping and grasping for an unidentified human being made of rawhide and stuffing.
Sometimes I see pictures and it sparks a cruel assemblage of acidic words to spill forth.
I didn't break hearts, I broke my own spirit and forged a signature made of flesh across my face for years while they went on to live in that light.
The darkness was only nearby and so I stayed in the shade where neither here nor there could get to me.
Perhaps some bolts have come out of my brain and so I was not  built like the rest.
I shorted red wires and green wires and pulled the blue ones out of my chest.
I noted things through the lines in my hands and wrote down side notes on my ribs to keep them a secret-
No one would look there.
Sometimes I wondered why these robots, these creations were so cold and I can't remember asking, speaking, or what I was told.
They're creations not creators and my mind paid the toll-
I begged not on my knees, but with my eyes for someone to come along and grasp at what was left of me.
I wanted so badly to love, I wanted so badly to be better at getting better and something was growing inside of me.
I was drowning in my own fluids, choking up dust with traces of feeling.
I wanted so badly to be pulled up and handled with the fragility that went missing somewhere when I was thirteen.
I'd put rocks in my apron and walk into the waves until I reached where my feet began to tread and I'd shut the lights off in my head.
Somewhere down there, deep in the water that burned in salt, I found a speck of light that lured me down.
I'm down in that light
And I want so badly to stay.

In every electronic talking toy there is a tiny demon,
waiting for the toy to "malfunction"
so he can crawl in to the microphone
kidnap sound
and send the severed fingers of the birthday song
to the already crumbling psyche of a disturbed child,
who wonders why Teddy Ruxpin is talking in tongues
in a voice like the devil in his dreams, deep and yet screechy.

A water logged push and listen balloon
can unleash an infernal cacophony
of dissonant choral arrangements
sung by the choir of the abyss.

Mommy and daddy may claim that it's just broken,
shorted out, the battery is dying, the tape is damaged...
But the truth is
it is the voice of madness incarnate
trapped inside your talking action figure.
If you dunk him in water, press the button, and listen real careful,
you can just hear the sound of your own spirit screaming---
As the demon slowly drowns.

I heard my life in mono before I met You
We became stereo
Me: channel left
You: panned right;
A cohesive strengthening of sound
A mutual clatter of turbulence, with such underlying beauty
Only we knew the clamor was best for Us, though no one believed
As the cacophony grew, Your speaker buzzed and squawked
I played unaware, loving the crescendo
-
Eventually, as stereos do, You
Shorted out
Grew weaker and weaker with each
Note; melodies were crumbling
I fiddled with the wires,
Hoping, wanting both sides of our discord to stay true
-
Then you were silent
Eerily and I kept screaming
Roaring with a clatter that could have blown my own side of this
Disquiet. You were muted, hushed
Now I hear but half of my life
The left remains;
The right, You, are not even
Static, and I pray for mono
Again

Sunset city
swallowed hills
factories churn out burlesque dancers
assembly lines make pin-up girls
and the old men fashion the world.
They made your skin the color of
pearls and your teeth soft around my neck.
I heard they formed you from the dust
while Kuwait blew up in the distance.
When your father put your sister in the ground,
the old factory men got to work on you.

The pin-up girls, they built your hands
to form the touch they've longed for -
but they made your eyes all wrong,
gave you too much beauty and
shorted your sight, put extra gears
in your mind for measure.
You were their pride, baby, you were their pleasure.

I made up the best parts of you, its true -
half your person in my head alone
but the half of sunday mornings was only ever real.
The old men that fashion the world
have condemned you to die, just as us all.
But if you ever asked,
you would not go alone.

The Commercial says:

Collect the whole set!
Buy Tommy Toddler™! –Now says 6 gibberish phrases!
Buy Hannah Housewife™! –Laundry basket and stove included!
Buy Stanley Stepdad™! –Comes with realistic child abusing action!
Buy Cole, the College Student™! –Life-like pot and beer vomit scent!
It says: Buy the whole family.

Batteries not rechargeable, but included. Residing inside.
No assembly required unless buying Ralph the Retired™ – in which case,
Go to the hospital and inquire, am I covered ?
Have I expired ?

At the store I’d, see them all sorted, and sordid, clumped in little bins. Together.
Sort of. See,
Lawyers, and scientists, and authors were all in higher priced bins.
I felt shorted.
A cheap skate like me couldn’t afford it, wait-
there are the janitors, soldiers, and waitresses, each only a quarter.

Somewhere in Taiwan, thin children wont to wanting,
Are making Model Americans.
Patching together assembly-line-lives, no breaks inbetween,
Workers named High School, College, and Career sew mini seams.
So many seem, to delight in dreaming the American Dream,
To leave earthly bodies and become pristine; little dolls.
Toys colored C.R.E.A.M.

“…and the home of the brave!” ?
maybe, home of the depraved.
Home of the pre-made, pre-packaged, and
Enslaved.
Displayed, in plastic tombs engraved. With phrases like:
Save! 50% off!
or perhaps it’s 50 stars off.
50 stars that are missin.
Cuz Old Glory sure looks like a damn question mark ( ?)
End transmission.
Restart television with Remote Control.

Are you carrying a silent burden? A memory you wish to forget? I have a few. Some were acts of stupidity that resulted in personal embarrassment. Back in college there was this girl that I liked. She had a new stereo bought for her by her Dad and she asked me if I could help her hook it up. My roommate asked if I needed help and I said no because I was afraid she would like him better than me if he put the stereo together. Look at how my shallowness was imputed onto her. Anyway, I put it together and I spliced the speaker wires together in a way that eventually shorted out both speakers. It was a humiliating experience. And because I was broke all I could do was apologize and slink away in shame.

Once though, I almost died. Climbing a small mountain in Palo Duro Canyon I found myself on a ledge, looked down and froze. I panicked. I had no confidence in the next step. Somehow, I lifted my foot and slowly made my way back to safety. The distance I needed to travel was less than six feet but it felt like a mile. This happened almost 27 years ago and to this day I can break into a cold sweat just thinking about that moment.

These aren’t memories that I wish to deny, but they are memories that cause mental discomfort. I have no one to blame except myself because I put myself into these situations. It's all over now and I've managed to become more prudent yet I still carry the memories (especially the little mountain climb) as if they happened yesterday.

Today, I suffer no loss of pride or ego. Why is that? Somehow I'm able to ignore self-inflicted wounds yet others carry around the pain of trauma inflicted by others.

Trauma can burn a hole into your mind. The hole can be covered up with experiences to the point that it's not noticeable to others, but you know where it is. And you avoid that hole. You build your life around it. It's as if you build a house on top of unstable soil. Instead of building on a solid foundation, you pretend the hole does not exist and move ahead without dealing with the hole. And you know what you have done is defer your problem to the future or you let it affect your life in such a way that you possibly deny yourself pleasure or invite stress because you cannot look into the hole and determine how to fill it permanently.

But what if the hole in your mind was dug by someone else? What if they dug the hole when you were unable to stop them? Maybe they dug the hole and you didn't even know that a hole didn't belong there. Maybe you felt that having a hole in your mind was normal because someone you felt had your best interests at heart was doing the digging.

There is a sign next to this particular hole with one word on it: Abuse. The word on this sign tends to be overused but there are those who need other words to describe their pain because the words hole and abuse cannot begin to describe their trauma. The problem is that society tends to be unforgiving about mental issues because to the naked eye, there is no evidence of a true problem. The human mind is so complex yet we simpletons tend to believe it can be managed very easily. Just do it they say. Just think your way through the problem and its all better.

To me the problem is that the mind does not heal itself like the rest of our body. A cut heals itself. But a severe injury such as a broken bone requires the help of a doctor. We all know this to be true and would consider someone foolish if they did not seek medical attention. Yet when the mind is injured we make fun of people who seek the help of counselors or psychiatrists.

Why is that?

Maybe it’s because we all know we could use help. Yet competency and having your act together is seen as the most important thing in life at times and our ability to day in and day out function under stress is the expectation. It’s been so commoditized that we are tough on ourselves and on others. We struggle through the day with high blood pressure or possibly drinking problems and soldier on instead of calling a mental doctor and just having a chat. This third party can help because they can let you know that you are not alone in your irrational feelings of fear that occasionally creep into your mind.

But, what about that hole in your mind that someone else dug? Why is it a problem? Maybe it was dug long ago and the shovel has been put away. Do you pick up the shovel and keep digging? Why do you refuse to fill it up? Do you feel unworthy? Do you think you somehow are tainted? Do you feel you need to be forgiven? You don’t need to be forgiven because you have done nothing wrong. You were abused. You were taken advantage of. But you retain the right to be happy. The right to a good life. The right to dream and to achieve. But are you not allowing yourself what everyone else seems to take for themselves? They are no better than you.

Yes, it happened to you. Yes, it was terrible and that person deserves bad things for what they did to you. But, this isn’t a conversation about forgiving them because I don't have the right or the insight to tell you to forgive them. That is up to you. But, it is a conversation about healing yourself and looking into the mirror and saying “I’m a human being and whatever someone did to me long ago doesn’t matter.”

Maybe you carry this with you because your abuser made you feel as if you deserved it. You didn’t. You were a child. They were an adult. All children cry, scream, act selfish and make mistakes. You were no different than any other child, but your abuser was different than normal adults. They had an illness or an inferiority complex so profound that they could only make themselves feel better by abusing someone who was helpless. You were helpless. But, it wasn’t your fault and today you should stand up and say “I deserve happiness because I did nothing wrong.”

You have to demand this of yourself. The hole must be filled up with the knowledge of your helplessness in the face of the abuser and with the true belief in your worthiness as a human being to exist in a happy state as others appear to be. You can do this because there is no reason to not believe in yourself. If the one who should have loved you the most didn’t love you then accept this fact and understand that you are lovable. It was their sickness that infected your mind. THEIR SICKNESS; NOT YOURS.

Don’t expect rejection from others because of what happened to you. Not everyone is an abuser. But if you carry this with you then everyone will be an abuser in your mind and you will fulfill a destiny that you have created. Stop looking for the approval of others. They are not God. They are merely human beings just like you and even though they may appear to have their act together, they don’t. Everyone is flawed. So don’t let yourself be intimidated by people; especially because of what happened to you. That is not you. That is only what happened to you.

DON’T LET IT BECOME YOU. And don't make others believe your hole is normal. It's not their burden. Don't dig a hole in their mind. Ask them to help fill yours up.