I very well felt possessed by the hatred that overcame me
Quite a drastic change from that echo of desire
If I could just believe in heaven I’d feel compelled to segregate my soul
Because nothing could be divine in the absence of a fire

My fear is extinguished by your touch
Your body remains in memory, consumed
Abandoned by your blood - a poison yet to desecrate
As though you are the first to feel deception
The first to be overwhelmed by anger
The first to have an animal tear through your skin from inside
But remain chained to your heart
Cursed to wander in your shadow
Or else rip it out
Or else remain suppressed and sleep
Which is in its nature?

deep, dark, cold
fears come new and old
this isn't good for either of us
rather hold on
than be alone
rather pain familiar
than be alone
comfort like my favorite sweater
as i deal with your words
cold as winter
i filter words you spat out
trying to rinse out this doubt
comfort is hard to release
hard removing myself from the belly of the beast
i'm cold
i'm scared
i'm alone
but i was with you
so it's still at an even tone

even though I know my heart is at stake
revealing drapes do nothing for me-- these are earthly.
i am more than earthly; i see not what the sun shines on.
pleasing is the blood that flows through you.

moonlight bathed-- the only time I can go out;
although that is the case, I demand you:
vanquish me with your heavenly light.

Imagine being in the middle of class and an elephant sits on your chest
Now take that feeling multiply it by Ten and try taking a test....
You take the test in spite of the feeling and you try your best......another F
Relax Its just a test...right

They say we need help, but most of us wont admit
Those who wont say, are barely able
They say we're not like the rest
That we're not stable...
Maybe they're right

But how would you act if you could feel the Tick Tock of Time-bomb twisting inside your chest
Night after Night, you sit down and force yourself to do whats expected of you
Finally finished hours later retreating to your safe place for a few
Only to be summoned and bombarded with harsh words about the things you didn't do

You feel the twisting intensify, clenching your chest as you're almost thrown to your knees
Your mind is filled with things to say and to scream...
but you can't speak
all you can do is hide...
hide from life and the things that trigger those feelings
all you can think about is how to avoid experiencing them
Day after Day avoiding possible triggers
Always throwing in the towel early, only ever giving Ten percent

It's a shame...all the wasted potential
Just imagine, instead of hiding if you could fight back
Day after Day finally conquering the struggle that held you back for so long
Always giving 110 percent no matter how difficult, to try to keep control of the Beast that rules your life

But you're still left really only giving 10 percent
Because the other hundred is still attempting to hold the Beast so you can think
In these battles with yourself your always left on the brink of destruction
Like a hundred internal volcanic eruptions
Melting away all your motivations
until there's nothing left

And don't think that this is all just me pretending
Because My Beast is the reason this poem has no ending

-Jim Foutch
8/30/2014

Black circles,
Trace wild lines.
Under my eyes.

Colour no storm can deny.
Lightning flashes,
In thy Dark, shadowy,
Eyes.

The devastating sink
Always returning, like the moon orders the tide
Submerged to the neck
Swimming against the storm
hindered by the trouble that cannot be released to its grave
to call the deep sea forever home
Heart open
only to receive nothing but crashing swells
Invading the lungs, forgetting how the fresh breath once felt
Skin crumbling as the ocean erodes life
The glare of the empty ahead
beats the eyes to a dry, bloodshot wince
Desperate for ground to stand on
but the helpless float in years of time
leaves the feet sorrowfully accepting of the futile kicks to live
Like a nightmare, occasions bring rescues
through the path of the reaping current
But none casting a saving line
for a last grasp of hope to cling its blistered fingers to
as if the beast of the waters should be left to dangle
And when the ocean swallows the fire of the Sun
and the moon calls for all life to retreat
the sharks come out for blood

You said, "How do you react when **** hits the fan? When you're under stress?
Do you go to work,
or hit the dirt?"
The truth is
I am transformed by the glory of battle
into shining metal
into this beast of action
that's not bad... it just is.
I remember my Dad telling me to "Be prepared.
Be aware.
Stay calm.
Don't be scared."
                           (He also taught me  how to take a hit
                            and return the favor.)
You said to me,
"Maybe,
you are not afraid.
Maybe,
you are excited.
Maybe,
when you feel that feeling you call fear
your spirit is responding
with acceptance....
Maybe, you were made for it."

It may not be fear today...
or excitement...

Today I am the villain.
I am taking them away from him.
I am breaking at least two hearts...
and pouring salt inside of mine
                                                        for endurance
                                                                     for preservation...

I am the hard stone for flint to strike.
I am the rushing floods and the strong ****.
I am the hot concrete and the melting tar.
I am the engine and the speeding car.
I am  adrenaline in the soldiers veins.
(Long since wasted and drained
from too many fights.)
I am the candle's burning, flickering light.
I am present, and aware.
But I am not scared.
I am ready.