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Kassel D Apr 2014
When I was younger, I had heard on the news that a man had been stabbed, and subsequently, bled to death. I had never head that expression before: "bled to death"... so what did it mean? I knew that guns and knives = death, the end, but how could you bleed to death?

This is when my mother provided me with an analogy that I have continued to use and develop to this day.

Instead of explaining what it meant, my mother knowing me well, gave me a visual representation (don't worry - no one was harmed in this process!).

My mother took me to the kitchen and took out a ziplock back and a knife. She turned on the tap and placed the bag under a steady flow of water, letting it fill halfway. She explained that the tap represented the human heart (essentially constantly creating new "blood"/water). She then proceeded to "stab" a hole in the bag, allowing some of the water to begin pouring out slowly. The leak was not large and the water coming in from the tap was able to sustain the small hole she had created. She explained that when we bleed from minor injuries, our body is able to keep up with the loss of blood because it's always creating new blood; the body is able to function as long as it has enough. She then began to process of poking more holes in the bag and I watched, wide-eyed, as the tap became unable to keep the bag full. It was from this that I understood; it was from this that I was able to create my own analogy years later...

Now for me, this analogy became most applicable in a recent relationship, but I believe it applies to any sort personal qualms.

We can't become the plastic bag. It is true (and common) that we patch the holes created... and for a while, they will hold. But eventually another hole will be created and a new patch required (see where I'm going with this?). There becomes a point where we're so patched that the water begins to soak through the patches and spill out.

And regardless of how many times we put the smiley-faced patch on the leaky bag, it's still going to have a hole and it's eventually going to start leaking again (a.k.a. just because you pretend everything is OK, doesn't mean that it is because you're not actually resolving anything). This process of patching will eventually burst in your face... you'll be patching and patching and patching, but there will still be that water coming in and holes created.

This may be gruesome (and I've received many the odd look from this specific advice) but you need to be able to rip off those patches, pull out the "bullet" and stitch yourself back up. Let it heal.

Yes, you are going to have a scar, and trust me, it won't be nearly as pretty as that little patch that you would have worn over the hole, but eventually it will fade and all you'll have is a faint pink mark where that hole used to be.

It's not easy and it's not pretty, but hey, wouldn't you rather survive?
This isn't a poem in any sense... but it's something that's been plaguing my mind lately...
Kassel D Mar 2014
every word
stands still to fall
the uninterrupted chaos of your lips
seeking another taste
of the disquieting peace
of unopened tension
for the unknown is certain
and the certain is unknown
where the heat of your destruction
becomes the invisible face
of you and i
Kassel D Mar 2014
Kindness fails the circle path of
Abandoned footsteps
Saturated with hope and
Set still upon the night, the
Easy ended flight still
Left for morning
Kassel D Mar 2014
i cannot put to words
how you begin every sunrise
with your eyes
as if you control the light
and when you turn
those torches on me
i am blind
yet it is where i begin
to see clearly
a path showered with autumn leaves
the tracks still fresh and alluring
and as you shine those eyes
like radiant beams
onto every trap laid before you
i step forward
Kassel D Mar 2014
let fly the words
that burn like embers
hot upon your breath
for i too feel the scortch
bandaged lips
and scabbed throat
tongue, thick and swollen
each word infused

amor, amor, amor
my pain is my love
an open eye
to the everlasting mark
you've placed
that i cannot scrub free

why do i love you so
when the rage is taking me?
Kassel D Mar 2014
i have prepared myself
for the last glimpse
of your face
hands intertwined
as they have always been
i have made ready
the sails of my ship
set to depart
for the last glimmer in your eyes
to slowly fade to ash
my sword is sharp
for my foes stand strong
my guard is gone
and i stand alone once more
i choose to live
in this time of decay
and if i shall see your face once more
surely i will have forgotten
each kiss
Kassel D Mar 2014
let bleed
like the morning dew
upon uncovered feet
spreading through the warm morning air
the sleeping flowers
seeking to obtain the last remnants
of an empty kiss
placed upon their lips
before the sun returns to the sky
and the peaceful wake of sleep
can no longer remain
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