Running inside, closing down and shutting off
It might be easy for some
It's torture to me... I torture myself.
No one cares when I disappear
No one notices
My phone doesn't ring.
Maybe I miss Facebook events
Some of which included a family death
And still, my phone didn't ring.
No one knocks on my door
No questions are asked of what's going on
With me,
in me.
When I announce my retraction
They slightly caring folks will await
A Facebook update
They don't call.
The whole world goes on
while I'm trying to not post my depression
for the five friends that care.
Although the care only reaches as far as
waiting for my facebook post
telling them I'm "ok"

saranade Apr 20

My hand held out... guard your back
When your friendships lacked give money or supplies
When you couldn't survive hold your hand
When you needed support give you a hug
When you needed love high five yours
At all of your endeavors pat on your back
When you succeeded this or that throw a thumbs-up
Because you never gave up

My hand held out... cover my eyes
Through all of the lies hide evidence
When you lacked common sense understand the unreal
Amounts of items you'd steal my chin to stipulate
The way you'd manipulate cover my heart and divert
From your stories that hurt.

I could do this when I had two hands.
I could juggle these separate demands.
My dominant hand is limp now.
The tasks I take on are now simple.
I can only do one thing at a time.
Like, write out this single line rhyme.

When you see my hand out...
...from utter desperation
Please don't tabulate your accommodation
...remember I never asked before my disability
That you had previously admired my stability
...homeless, dirty and hungry
Offer to help me, without charging money
...keep in mind, it's the only one I have
My abilities and tasks all need to be halves
...perhaps don't act put-out or surprised
Because the person who's asking is paralyzed.

I feel like my sister is so concerned with money, she didn't offer help to her newly disabled sister (me) until I could pay her. When things got worse, she didn't even check on me because she knew I had no money.
saranade Apr 8

My freedom of expression,
Or, freedom to exist...
I've had to suppress, any implication,
That I was free, IT was free,
Or that I could rest.
My obligations became innovations,
My "freedom" was a serious test.

Shut my mouth.
Silence my thought.
Burn holes in my own sky...
To survive,
Just to... Get by.

There's no blood on the hand
of the devil begging for a gun...
But, the blood of my son,
My thoughts, my thighs,
My sun, my sky...
I'm paralyzed.
I idealized and fantasised
...a metaphor...
Something in-between dead and alive.

But this is literal.

Cry freedom for a body that fails.
An existing breath that bent steel.
Locked in the prison with 10 wardens.
Slave to a super power.
And I'm furious you sent me a bill.
I ate your currency.
I'm... Fed... Up.

Your devil is free to stare,
poke fun and share
...the misery... suffering...
I'm paralyzed.

This is literal.

So many applications
saranade Nov 2016

A year and a half has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The broken bones and road rash had since been cast away.
The gassed up tank and fast paced life were smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flashed and all of the sudden whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash of two autos blinked my eyelash three days later.
Paralytic forecast.
I lay flabbergast.

I'm still paralyzed, elbow down, my right arm from this hit-and-run motorcycle accident. 25 broken bones have healed. 4 surgeries. More surgeries coming. Still in physical therapy 2 to 3 times a week.
Hhhhhh. I haven't given up.
saranade Nov 2016

The barrier of poison and puss
                    You're better than us
                   A metal chassis of rust
This and that and jist and just
                     An abyss full of fuss
                                   No love or lust
Cease to speak or discuss
                    A might or a must
                         The empty pie crust
Preference to throw or thrust
                       Detest and disgust
                         To cry or get crushed

saranade Nov 2016

Become the answer.
Remove the why.... I mean, "y".

The nation is yours.

Get it?
Think. Feel. Live. Love.
It's up to us, the little guys.
The thousandaires, or hundredaires...
Fuck, even the dollaraires.

We ARE America.
I AM America.
I am love.

Live. Love.
saranade Nov 2016

I have brought to you your question
Brought to you direction
It's not a competition
Don't petition
Resist them
What's your position
Your mind fruition
You list it
Twist it
Missed it.

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