I read a quote somewhere that said,
"I don't know how many times I have survived myself, without telling anyone else."
And I felt those words shoot through every nerve in my body. I felt them so deeply.
And I wonder how many of us feel the same way.
How many nights we fought off the suicidal thoughts, the urge to cut, the urge to purge, the urge to run or to hide out, alone, too afraid to worry or bother our friends and family.
How many days and nights have we all suffered in our own darkness alone?
People like us fight a battle no one can ever fathom because it's a battle no one can see. And we don't let them.
I've fought myself and survived myself alone so many nights.
There were nights I use to lose my own battle. But some how still came out alive.
I guess that's how we keep going. Because every time we give up we come out stronger.
You fight yourself and beat yourself up for so long that eventually you become a master of surviving a war.
We're warriors.
"I don't know how many times I've survived myself, without telling anyone else."
Tonight, I'm telling all of you.
I survived myself.
And if you're still here and you're reading this, you survived yourself too.
It's not easy but you did it.
And I'm so proud of you all.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
I could hear Insufficiency flee from me at The Thinkers Hour, when sleep is halted and, on occasion the rooster is already cawing at the movements of Transiency.
I rise higher, scribing longer, recounting our Divinity, the boundlessness of Love, and the hues that the Sun dusts over cemeteries and trains alike.
It is then, as matter scaling the skyling, that decidedly I sink into Rapid Ply Healing.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
There's only one skip on the CD.
There's only time that is not absolute.
The barista spilled the milk and the customer replied, "Telekinesis, baby, telekinesis!"
The mugging was designed and I must tread with the iridescence onto the next track.
There's only one skip but it repeats continuously
There's no time because I like to say it's not real.
The director created a puzzle and the viewers play for so long.
The overdose was placed and I must sing with plithiness the tenacity of my favorite number.
There's only one skip.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
Preachers have more plagiarized content than singers.
The old man I met on the sidewalk told me one of the Beach Boys locked himself in a basement and created his own fraction of notes, his own harmonies.
I create a thought to push my voice from my gut out my mouth into the air.
Now wiggling vibrations mingle with oxygen molecules and the place in space is rearranged.
I created traction.
This is it.
This
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
Entropic threats loom and I told them to **** off from the start.
Shouldn't is transparent because it plays warning fair.
I tell my toes to move and they do.
You're next.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
You must take the wound,
Face it,
Squeeze it,
Bite it,
**** out the venom,
Spit out the venom,
Gather comfrey,
Dress the once wound,
Bandage it,
Let it SCAR (it is now a reminder in this phase),
LET IT HEAL
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 4:02 PM UTC
Sleeping for mere ellipses
Bleary eyed beliefs breach
the sentenced structure
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
Your home will shatter
Emotionally not physically
The wood panels still fused
But your security dissipated
Dishes still in the kitchen sink
But your routine in shards
You will pack up
Backpack up on your back
And down on the ground
In your new compound
You will attempt to create anew
And you will
But it is unlike before
It will never be like before
So you will try a return
You will, desperately,
Grasping for breath,
Ride your bike to that old gate
That old entrance to that previous exit
But I regret to inform you,
It is no longer your home
He might invite you in but only to see a new couch
Some other woman is in the groove
But it’s not even the one you once made
The bathroom will look the same
Same portrait
Same book on top of the toilet
But a new towel hangs
And it’s no longer the perfume of your shampoo filling the room
I am so sorry but
You will feel like you are in a bad dream
Everything is familiar
Everything is yours in a no longer tucked away memory
It is still real if you open it and prolong it
It is still yours in some existence
Where that moment froze and never stopped
But it is changed
At the same exact time
It is hurdling forward as fast as it is still
It is as foreign as it is memorized
Everything is off on the same track
I am sorry but you can never go home
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Each Autumn we fall in and out of
Souls who
Lure us into a gust of changing leaves.
A familiar song
Strummed
Down our every vein.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
I’ve been sitting in the crack in the couch
tapping my feet on the coffee table
pourover in hands
left
right
must write
what can pop up in the sphere on top of my neck to make me spit out words
too many screens
after all the paper in front of me used to be a dead tree
too many sighs
after all I left the pain and got what I wished for
too many souls
afterall we’re just one mirror
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC