Eleutherophobia

Eleutherophobia Jan 2014

Indecisiveness As A Poorly Practiced Art

All that was left was fog
Which made the mundane task
Of looking down
To see your foot print in the soil
An arduous task
And it was all too frustrating
Such a simple task made to be impossible
Without vision
There was nothing
How do you step forward
When the ground beneath you
Cannot be seen
And the fog never ceases to roll in
Forever making the world
A blurry mystery
And mystery can be good
When taken in small doses
While following the exact instructions
Written out for you on the bottle
But not when it becomes all you know
Where is the sliver of truth
You can cling to
As an anchor
When everything starts
Spinning around
There is no solace
In indecisiveness
This coming from the girl
Who never even had
A fantasy future job
As a child
To be a princess or a lawyer
Because making any finite decision
Was too much
So yes,
I know
I understand more than I hope to.

Eleutherophobia Jan 2014

Dreamland

Portentous corpses always found a way
Of capturing her soul
In ways that serenading chrysanthemums never could
The golden skies we would
Rejoice in
As we felt the warmth dusted upon our blushing flesh
Always faded too quickly into
A deep rustic bronze
And soon dust
Whenever she began to take notice

The whispers of whiskey sang
A sweet lullaby
Every night
When she gathered all of her
Albatross thoughts in the empty bottle
And sent them sailing away
With each encumbering sip

Becoming less and less aware
Of her tragic state of reality
Was merely a method of survival
So that when she laid her head down
Each night
At least in that moment
She feels complacently numb
And dignified in the fantasy world
She has created for herself

As she slips away to dreamland
She cannot help but think
She has never felt more at peace
Than in the moment when
Reality all but vanished
To make room for what will never be.

Eleutherophobia Jan 2014

Scarred and Damaged Romantic

I wish I could write
All those happy thoughts
That I can never seem to
Cling on to

Instead everything always seems
To turn into
Salty saturated lashes
And woodpeckers invading my heart

I always find the most beautiful words
To perfectly contradict
Any sweet sentence
That may stumbles out of my mouth
As unnaturally as an ant
Birthing an elephant

My thoughts are a Nicholas Sparks novel
Sweet and enchanting
Until an inevitable death occurs
But unlike his love stories
My thoughts end at the death
And then press play again

Every happy moment
Is like a balloon floating up
With an unseen needle tied to the string
And if the wind blows just right..
POP
And the deflated and defeated balloon
Comes back down to me
The same material as before
But with a completely different appearance

So while I dream about
Falling in love
Wrapped up in handmade quilts
While sipping warm chai tea
Next to the fireplace
I will instead be right here
In my room
Sitting on the cold hardwood floor
Surrounded by four bland walls
Writing about everything that could be
But isn't
And patiently listening to the footsteps
Outside my door
Waiting for them to leave

This is the unfortunate life I lead
As a scarred and damaged romantic.

Eleutherophobia Jan 2014

Those Horrifying Possibilities

I would rather
Sleep outside in a tent
With you
Than in the comfort
Of my own bed
But sometimes it gets
A bit too chilly out at night
And I could get a few
Too many bug bites
And there's always the danger
Of any wild animals in the woods
And well,
You see love
I can't help but think about
All of the things that could
Possibly go wrong
And ever since that night
When you offered your tent to me
I have been sleeping in my bed
Waiting for the day
When I convince myself
Your love for me
Overpowers anything
That could go wrong
But the fear
Of all of those horrifying possibilities
Seems to reside
Closer to my heart
Than any thought of you does
So I'm so sorry dear.
I am not certain
How much longer you will be waiting
How much longer your tent will be there
And I promise I would sleep out there
With you
In a heartbeat
I really would
But for now
That heartbeat will have to last
Long enough
For me to see
That it's okay to leave my bed
Despite all of those possibilities.

Eleutherophobia Dec 2013

Dreadfully Poetic

As a poet
You would think
I would live my life
A bit more
Poetically

Instead of
Crashing
And
Burning
With every move I make
Causing natural disasters
Every time
My feet make contact with the soil

You would think
That when I become intertwined
With another human being
Bells would chime
And doves would take flight
Instead of the ashes that form
Right under my fingertips
As the skin begins
To disintegrate
Crumbling to death
Under my touch

You would think
I walk on clouds
And view life
Solely as a metaphor
For beauty and love

You would think
I fall in love
With the buds sprouting
And the fawns grazing in the sunlight

You would think
I embody the poetry
Formed by my lips
And live by the words I preach
Instead of being
Such a cynical hypocrite

You would think a poet
Would be more in touch
With the beauty in life
Since we are so in touch
With our emotions

Instead I sulk in the corners
Capturing spider webs
And finding beauty in that
Perhaps I have made a connection
With the wrong emotions
How unfortunate.

Eleutherophobia Dec 2013

Solid to Vapor

From solid to vapor
Just like that
To ease the pain
To make you
A distant memory

Watching the replay
Of the glass breaking
But training myself
To cry a little less
Each time

Scrapping off the scabs
As they form freshly
On my old cut
To prove to myself
That healing is possible

It's getting harder to remember
The salted tear streaked cheeks
The burnt, dried out throats
And the shoe scuffs on the hardwood floor

But that is just what I planned
Just what I had hoped would happen
The artful disappearance
I planned out so well
The disappearance of my emotions

The numbing affects
I knew would work
Far better than the anesthesia

Finding solace
In the vaporized memories

Turing passionately saturated memories
Into dry emotionless ones
Until they harder so much
That they become
Replications of the tragic bathroom tiles

Feeling nostalgic
As I smash each one
With the heels of my shoes
Then with the fists of my hands
Leaving traces of my DNA
Scattered amongst the ceramics

How fitting to end it all
The same way
Blood and destruction

And remembering
How I can easily turn
Any solid into vapor
And knowing that
With this lethal gift
I was going to be okay.

Eleutherophobia Dec 2013

The Unfortunate Life of an Uncertain Sociopath

Plunging a blade
Into my chest cavity
To see if I would feel
When my ribs
Fail to protect my heart

Letting go of the wheel
On the winding road
To see if it I would feel
The glass
Splitting into millions of pieces
As my skin synchronized
With it
And did the same

Punching the wall
With my anxious fist
To see if I would feel
The moment of impact
As all five proximal phalanges
Burst away from my metacarpals

Crying hysterically
At the extremes I would go through
Just to know if any of it is even real
To know fear
To know pain
To know sorrow
To know any sort of emotion at all
And most of all
To know if I am faking all of it

Feeling forever lost
Confused
Mistaken?
Lost.

Definitely lost.

Lost in this unfortunate existence
Constantly questioning if I feel
What I feel
And never gathering any useful information
Always just more questions
Filled with wonder
But never with the emotion
Letting me know how I feel about any of it.
Just empty.