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Was it worth it?
finding peace and serenity in the the drugs you consume?
But leaving you feeling alone and empty in the corner of you room
right after?

Depriving yourself from any sort of self care
just to numb out the pain you can't bare?
Did it help you get better?
Did it help and save you from sending that letter?
Or was it just an excuse to forget how it felt, to be abandoned
for another?

Forever cursed, stuck in this never ending loop
unless you realize what you crave for is growth.
Flushing out the poison that you fill yourself with
and finally know your
                                          Self worth.

Some days hang in the sky like gems
Or encase me inside, quite still.
Above, the light is crystalline
And on the horizon, filtered soft
I sit, like Scheherazade and gaze
At the oscillating leaves
And wandering clouds,
Letting them create a hum inside me.
Senses turn to water and slide down
Beneath my skull, draining tension
And even careful thought,
Until all that’s left is the mind,
The vibrating Paradis,
The enclosed garden of antiquity,
Yet boundless tending of awareness
That is unaware,
And the long, slow drift of Life.

I could stop there
But near-****** sensations
Through all my nerves and skin
Lead me on,
As if sinking down into a pool,
Inside a liquid chalice of energy.
Eyelids half-closed,
Viscera descending
As the being relaxes.
Limbs flex and let energy flow
Until there is no barrier
Between myself and the earth.
Like Prufrock, I come to rest,
Not ragged claws but a thoughtless droplet
Or ancient sea lily that waves
And, we have seen, walks daintily
On tip-toes across the sea floor!
In the currents I send out tendrils
Of light and vague curiosity,
The only human thing left,
As it once was, before consciousness
Trespassed, before anything was named,
Before judgment was passed.
It is mind without thought:
The brilliant void that changes not
From sunrise to sunset.
I could remain like this forever,
Simply being;
All is a luxury of torpor,
Serenity and certainty.
And if one psyche plaintively asked,
If this is all,
I should reply that for these
Several moments,
“This is just what I mean,
this is all.”
I was challenged to write a poem about laziness, but then I kept coming back to its real feat: conquering boredom. This then leads to a Zen-like state, a sort of hypnosis--my favorite drug.
dirt and horse ****
these hiking boots are filthy

huckleberries and dehydrated beans
his tongue is stained

**** and sweat
that sleeping bag is ruined

serenity and harmony
my mind is whole
reflection after two-week section hike of the Oregon section of the PCT
Grace Oct 9
Silence is quite unusual, really.

Because Sound is always there.
It ticks away in the background like a friendly face in a classroom on that first day at a new school; someone to greet you and wash any and all fears from the very depths of  your soul, bringing with it that ever-welcomed sense of reassurance, that everything really will be okay

The gentle sigh of inhalation.

Sound is always there.
Even in the darkest days when nothing is going right and all you want to do is curl up in a ball and cry; your ever-familiar friend will guide you into tasting the salty tears which glide seamlessly and endlessly down your cheek until suddenly they’re not and you can hear your breathing and see a glimmer of hope in the sky but you can hear your breathing and you know that you’re not alone, you’re never alone, you were never alone and after everything that has happened you finally stop and take a deep breath and think that everything really will be okay

The steady plod of a heartbeat.

Sound is always there.
It passes by, day in and day out, as reliable as the chirping of birds raising you from the depths of sleep on the first day off you’ve had in months; outwardly you curse and you groan but on the inside you don't care because you're happy and you're safe and you've got a comfortable bed and a warm home and people who love you and it is in these moments that you are really are finally sure that everything really will be okay

The careless whisper of exhalation.

Sound is always there.
Apart from when it’s not and you are left alone and scared and in the dark and there’s nothing that you can do; nothing that anyone can do and suddenly everything stops and you feel the crushing pain dominate your entire being and it is painful yet strangely relaxing yet you just want it all to stop and carry on and stop and you don't know what you want, what you should want, all you want is somebody to reassure you that everything really will be okay but you know that it won’t; you won’t; you won’t be okay ever again but all you want is your familiar friend to come back and reassure you but they won’t because they're gone now and they've just left you alone with the silence that they've always protected you from, kidding you that everything really will be okay

But it won’t.

You know it won’t.

It really is true that silence is that deafening.
ALC Oct 4
Hold me in a dark embrace
In the black stillness of the night.
Vanish the light from the day,
Allow only the stars to come out to play.

Hide me in an obsidian blanket
Where I can sit in quite silence.
Let me disappear into the night,
Silently watching as an owl in flight.

Include me in your onyx cover
So that I may think in cleaver wonder,
As the moon creates a soothing calm
And my body stills in your nightly song.
I've been hiding being these empty smiles
Imprisoned in my own mind
This anguish
Stop me before I bleed
The echoes of her voice
The memories I cast
Follow me down
There must be serenity
While still descending
To the demons of my own design
Star BG Sep 17

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