I had a dream that there was promise in the future
That my days dug in a hole, so deep,
That I never saw the sun rise – were a fading nightmare.
But my nightly sweats and twisted sheets
When the sun arose, planted seeds of fear in my psyche.
That fleet-footed knight mares rode across starscapes
Pulling shades and twisting
Warm fantasy
Into hallucinations of other me’s
Dying a thousand different ways.
I had a dream that the demons in my mind,
Results from God’s imablanced alchemic formula that made my brain,
Declared a war on my central nervous system,
That I fought in with breath, and blood, and tears, and sweat
(Eyes scrunched shut, and hands over my ears)
That was eventually termed O.C.D.
And I sit in offices and wait for elaborate flourished script,
That I exchange for the antidote,
For the depression flowing through my veins.
Eventually sitting awake,
Waiting for a song to soothe my tired eyes,
To touch some part of me that I can’t reach on my skin,
And send me off to sleep.
And I am tired –
Tired of the night wars
Waged in between starscapes
And daydream streams.
I’m tired of feeling weak,
When I’ve stood vigilant against
The death cries of a thousand other me’s.
I’m weary of feeling empty,
And afraid of my inability to close
This sadness wellspring,
Would lead me to see the backs of those I love,
Leave me, on parting words and ashen bridges – falling down.
(And if God has ever blessed me with anything,
It is how many incredible people,
Care about insignificant me.)
I had a dream that I was finally free,
Of shackles and bounds and fetters,
That tethered me to ol’ seductive Melancholy,
Warm tears flowing from my eyes,
As I embraced smiling friends, knowing that I
No longer needed to vent, or share the weight,
Or had the desire to die.
But I hear whispers in my ears,
Cold fingers gnawing at my rib cage,
Telling me my life isn’t worth anything.
And punching my gut to toughen me up,
Is outdated, deep seated Masculinity,
Shouting at me that I’m not a man,
Unless I’m wrapped in sheepskin or wearing fatigues.
And that every little slip of a word to the contrary,
Of the face I put on when I’m at my worst,
Is a weakness I must **** and shoulder my weight,
Alone.
I had a dream
That a miracle man could crack open my head
And sort out all the pieces that didn’t fit
And study all the places where my wires had been
Haphazardly ******* in wrong.
And I begged for the miracle surgery,
To alleviate this darkling stain,
But what’s frightening is – I can barely imagine myself without it.
I once looked at myself in the mirror, and wondered if it was better on the other side
While I practiced my lie of “I feel fine”, code for standing on the precipice
Of suicidal decline.
When really, it was just for me.
Is a lie a lie if you believe it? Because that’s why I say it on repeat.
I once had a dream that I was loved,
And that’s the one I try to forget.
As I hold a candle close to my eyes,
My last daily reminder of
Still-living hopes light,
Before I risk a night of sleep.
(its actually true, look it up.)