I press play
and let the music completely transform me
I am no longer just attached to the sounds through a chord
I am a dancer, fluid and powerful
I see intricate choreography that my body can no longer replicate
pause
my leg throbs from the nerves
the temperature rapidly changing
as it has done for over a year
the expulsion of molten earth- Vesuveus
mingles and transforms
the frozen winter of Russia, where no army can win
my leg throbs
play
I try to memorize the world I am taken to
I practice ways to explain what I see
maybe I can't translate this world
but somebody else can.

nobody is really sure
obvious things are gone
like missing paintings from the wall
stark relief of faded paper
what has gone missing
after the thief has been
it takes time to catalogue
the treasures that have been lost
crime perpetuates
you find the dust silhouette
where smaller things once stood

churning again the horror that flattened my life
the flash blindness still comes in waves
stealing little pieces thought safe
those sacred things
placed close to my heart
appear to have leaked away overnight
lured away
or repelled
cannot tell
but the thief has been back
there are fingerprints in the dust

@journeyofdays

i'll split my ribcage
to show you how i work
if you promise not to laugh
or look repulsed.
i'm so used to cutting you open and
stretching your very heartstrings
to relieve a little tension
without you even asking
that i can create that incision blindfolded,
but when i need sutures
for a lone rose coloured ****,
i ask and you're gone.
i'm prepared to rip my ribcage apart
but you have to get a grip
of the knotted pulpous mess my organs have become
over decades of neglect
when they erupt from my chest
and sprawl at your feet.

teeth shouldn't
lie on pavement
and blood shouldn't
run down your face

and as i dragged
myself along the
side of the road
i thought to myself

this is the lowest
moment of my life

flat on my back
staring into the
12 o'clock high sun
and sobbing

i wanted to die before
this moment but now
it's only reinforced
cemented in place
that in fact i can't
do anything right

some wise woman
supposed sage of ages
once told my mother
that for every great emotion
a person needs a physical
container to put it in

but what should one do
when their container
has always been a retainer
that now doesn't fit?

hit where it hurts most
my mouth
years spent suffering
so i can wake up
every morning with a
fresh twenty dollar smile

and now that's
all gone i suppose

maybe i'm vain
or maybe i'm dumb
but the smile makes
the woman and mine
is looking like i'm
not so human

penny for my thoughts?
i'd give a lifetime of
change jars to get
back my perfect teeth

to be the other side of trauma is  unusual
loneliness is extreme
forever friends have gone
there are empty seats at the table
telephone numbers have changed
even family has moved on

time has evaporated
my clock and calendar are set at six years ago
time  stolen from me and my life
recreating a history from social media posts
the time lived by those who were close once
they look so happy and have lived

can I make up for time lost
do the living not done
reverse the injury cover over the scars
circle back at points and take that time back
put in a claim for what life owes me
does insurance cover that sort of loss  

finding a way back
is putting together a puzzle where the pieces don’t fit
by using a knife and mallet
more often now in a rush
to make sense of the past and put the missing history
back together, I have wasted too much time lost out here



@journeyofdays

strangles
slowly
this pain
that never really leaves
my heart

@journeyofdays

You cared for nothing degrading each unknown gracious soul a nameless acquaintance as a victim in the wake of your lifelong search for self-affirmation leading to naught. How I hope you slink into the suicidal tidal waves of darkness you deserve. How I find myself hoping to get the chance of one final gluttonous glance seeing the shock sewn into your timeless mask staring out of the casket as just another casualty of conceded conceit and craving. How I relish in the feeling of the the grass of your grave growing from your physical spoils springing between my tickled toes raising my vengeful vitality up my spine until it erupts upward as unbound laughter at the man you thought you might have been. Aye, Good riddance to the dead and may you rot in your own insipid stench like the **** stained lining of your soul.

to suffer like this is hardship enough
feel yourself drift away
torn from, the present
hurtling back into a memory
or the horrendous new construction of something dark that preys upon my mind
please don't leave me here
keep me close
tell me stories
keep me close
honour this bond
keep me close
I haven't lost my mind it just goes offline sometimes

@journeyofdays