In between   (a poem)
.
my mind struggles against its own illusion
nightmare tumbles out into still morning
light is heavy,
a fog of echoes...
and I am caught
.
day dreams the sunlight
dreams light the day
and I am caught in between
mourning echoes...
like a stillborn ghost
who can't take a breath in the present

….
  
I live on a tropical island and just want to go surfing with my husband, but the nausea in the early morning as I try to eat  breakfast and drive with him to the beach is so uncomfortable.  Day after day it makes even surfing a chore, and I consider not going anymore.  Background anxiety and unreasonable irritation interferes with our marriage, frustrates him enough to want me out.  

For me, a trip to the grocery store or meeting a group of people awakens the same dreadful fear as rockclimbing a cliff. Perspective has been lost in the extremes.  I try to gain some control over this hindering nuisance, seeking situations that bring the same surges of adrenaline so I can learn to master it.  If I can just push past the avoidance that would keep me inside doing nothing, if I can just ignore the feeling I want to throw up, if I can just get out there, I am rewarded with life’s potential beauty eventually.  Many days I do enjoy the thrill of mountain biking or connection with nature when surfing, but there are too many days of internal struggle that reduce what should be enjoyable to a relentless chore of wrestling inner demons.

The VA offers a few sessions of marriage counseling, and the doctor begins to explain PTSD.  ***, I’ve learned to cope with an unreliable brain, but now there’s this?  From what I understand (and that’s just me, an amateur philosopher) Sometimes the brain is so traumatized, that the memory is literally sealed off, encapsulated, protecting it from changing.  If later something happens that is similar, the brain triggers avoidance responses as a take-no-chances survival mechanism.  Literally the brain is protecting one’s self from one’s self.  This all-or-nothing strategy works fending off potential dinosaur attacks, but in our complex society, these automatic avoidance behaviors complicate functioning and well being.  Life becomes an attitude of constant reaction instead of motivated intention.

The website for the National center for PTSD says.  “After a trauma or life-threatening event, it is common to have reactions such as upsetting memories of the event, increased jumpiness, or trouble sleeping. If these reactions do not go away or if they get worse, you may have Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.”  

“Common reactions to trauma are:
• Fear or anxiety: In moments of danger, our bodies prepare to fight our enemy, flee the situation, or freeze in the hope that the danger will move past us. But those feelings of alertness may stay even after the danger has passed. You may:feel tense or afraid, be agitated and jumpy, feel on alert.  
• Sadness or depression: Sadness after a trauma may come from a sense of loss---of a loved one, of trust in the world, faith, or a previous way of life. You may:have crying spells, lose interest in things you used to enjoy, want to be alone all the time, feel tired, empty, and numb.  
• Guilt and shame: You may feel guilty that you did not do more to prevent the trauma. You may feel ashamed because during the trauma you acted in ways that you would not otherwise have done. You may:feel responsible for what happened, feel guilty because others were injured or killed and you survived.  
• Anger and irritability: Anger may result from feeling you have been unfairly treated. Anger can make you feel irritated and cause you to be easily set off. You may:lash out at your partner or spouse, have less patience with your children, overreact to small misunderstandings.  
• Behavior changes: You may act in unhealthy ways. You may:drink, use drugs, or smoke too much, drive aggressively, neglect your health, avoid certain people or situations.”   It lists four main symptoms: reliving the event, avoiding situations that remind of the event, feeling numb, and feeling keyed up (also called hyperarousal)”

Four words strung together: Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  They’ve become a tired cliché, exhausted from the endless threat of random cruelty camouflaged in banality, weary of the weight shouldering back the wall that separates death and gore from the living.  Living was a reflex beyond willpower and devoid of choice. Control was self-deception.  The mind was so preoccupied with A: survival, B: sanity, in that order.  Rest was a cruel illusion.  The tank was drained, no room for emotions ditched.  Empathy took too much effort, fear was greedy.  Hopefully they can be remembered and found on the other side, if there is one.  Sleep deprived cells were left hyper-alert from the imminent, shot up and addicted to adrenaline.  Living was Fate and Chance, and meant leaving that time and place sealed in forgetfulness.  

Now PTSD is a worn out acronym, a cold shadow of what it feels like.  I try to think of something more personal that can describe the way it randomly visits me, now resigned to its familiar unwelcome influence.  It steals through my brain, flying ahead of me with its own agenda of protecting sabotage.  Its like the Guardian Trickster of Native American legend.  Its an archetype but real enough to make mistakes: Chulyen, the black raven.

A decade after the ER, contentment is found in a garden of slow tranquility as a butterfly interrupts a sunbeam.  My heart fills with bittersweet as I’ve finally found something I love and want to keep.  Just then Chulyen’s grasping black claws clamp my heart with painful arrhythmia and it fills to burst, tripping in panic trying to recover its pace.  The sudden pain drops me to my knees, in the dirt between fragrant lavender and cherry tomatoes.  Pain stops breath and time and makes me remember the ER, when my heart rebelled its ordained purpose for a week.  I had tried to throw my bitter life back in God’s face but He didn’t take it.  Now that I have peace and a life that I treasure, He’s taking it now.  The price for my mistake is due.  It was all just borrowed time and I’m still so young, my children just babies.  God with a flick of cruelty reminds me not to put faith in the tangible, especially when its treasured.  The sharp claws finally relent and I can breathe, looking up with a gasp and the Raven takes flight overhead leaving a shadow.  Bright noon warmth, unusually heavy and foreboding, seems to say ‘there will come a time when you will not welcome the sun.’   Doctors run an EKG and diagnose ‘stress’.

The bird perches on my shoulder two more decades later, always seeing death just over there.  So I sit on the porch just a little longer and check my list again, delaying the unavoidable racing heart and rush of tension when I fix the motorcycle helmet strap under my chin.  I know all those stupid drivers have my life in their cell-phone distracted hands and hope my husband knows how much I love him, and my daughters too.  

Chulyen wakes me at 3:00 am when autumn’s wind aggravates the trees.  His rustle of black feathers outside unsettles summer’s calm night.  He brings an end-of-the-world portent that hints this peace is just temporary, borrowed.  Tribulation will return.

Ravens are attracted to bright shiny things.  Chulyen steals off with treasures like intention, and contentment.  I don’t realize they are missing until occasionally I find myself truly living in the moment.  I guess that is another reason why I crave adventure, for those instants and epiphanies that snap me out of that long term modis operandi of reacting, instead of being.  The daily list of ‘I must, or I should’ can for a brief while become ‘I want’  and I am free.

My companion the black bird perches relaxed in the desert on the gatepost of a memory.  A bullet-scarred paint-faded sign dangles by one corner from rusty barbed wire:
    No Trespassing    
    That Means You
I have a haunted idea what's behind the fence.  Chulyen implies the memory with a simple mistaken sound:
a Harley in the distance is for a second the agitating echo of a helicopter...
or those were the very same words they said when...
or I hear a few jangling clinks of forks in our warm kitchen...
hinting a cold cafeteria at 5:00 am smelling of fake eggs and industrial maple flavored corn syrup,
and everything else that happened that day...
My cells recollect, brace with the addictive rush of adrenaline.  But the raven denies access to the memory, distracting with discomfort.  I trip and I fall hard into the gritty dirt of irritation at the person who unknowingly reminded me.  Anxiety floods in along with fatigue of the helplessness of it all, back then and still now.  I can't go further.  Chulyen’s tricking deception says Leave This Memory, you never wanted to come back.
But I already knew from just recognizing the bird patiently sitting there a sentinal,
recalling every other time he tricked me with nausea and depression.
I tried to tell myself again that behind that gate,
the past has dried up from neglect.
Disintegrated into dust,
Blown away,
doesn't
exist.
…


After everything else, how to work through this?  The VA gave me a manual, a crudely printed set of worksheets with a government-looking blue cover page:  Cognitive Processing Therapy.
“In normal recovery from PTSD symptioms, intrusion, thoughts, and emotions decrease over time and no longer trigger each other.  However, in those who don’t recover, the vivid images, negative thoughts, and strong emotions lead to escape and avoidance.  Avoidance prevents the processing of the trauma that is needed for recovery and works only temporarily.  The ultimate goal is acceptance.  
There may be “stuck points”, conflicting beliefs or strong negative beliefs that create additional unpleasant emotions and unhealthy behavior.  For example, a prior belief may have been “ I am able to protect myself in dangerous situations.”  But after being harmed during military service, a conflicting belief surfaces, “I was harmed during service, and I am to blame.”  If one is ‘stuck’ here, it may take some time until one is able to get feelings out about the trauma, because one is processing a number of rationales.  “I deserved it because…” , or “I misinterpreted what happened, I acted inappropriately, I must be crazy…”  The goal is to change the prior belief to one that does not hinder acceptance.  For example, “I may not be able to protect myself in all situations.”

(chapter continues with recovery methods)

Tired of being called names and listening to complaints from your partner because you snore at night?

But more than that, it is important to keep a check on your snoring as an excess of it can be an indicator of many diseases, one of them being sleep apnea, says Dr Kaushal Sheth, ENT surgeon, "People develop sleep apnea when their airway collapses partially or completely during sleep due to various medical conditions. This causes the oxygen levels in the blood to decrease and can be potentially life threatening when it becomes obstructive sleep apnea."

Elaborating on it further, Dr Jayashree Todkar, bariatric surgeon and obesity consultant says "Snoring is an indication of obstacles in a person's breathing. When excessive fat accumulates around the stomach, the lungs do not get ample space to expand when we inhale oxygen; this in turn leads to obstacles in the process of inhalation-exhalation."

However, there are many myths surrounding snoring which is a very common problem. To sleep better one must get rid of the myths that surround snoring and only accept the facts, says Dr Viranchi Oza, BDS as he gives us a lowdown of some stories around snoring:

Myth: Everybody snores, therefore it's normal.

Fact: Snoring is not a normal condition. Labelling it as 'normal' diminishes the seriousness of the condition. Snoring is not just about annoying your partner, it is a sign that the body is struggling to breathe properly during the night. Snoring on a frequent or regular basis has been associated with hypertension and can also be an indication of sleep apnea (pauses in breathing). Sleep apnea sufferers have been reported to have diminished gray cells in their brains, most likely due to the oxygen deprivation of untreated sleep apnea. If left untreated, sleep apnea increases the risk of cardiovascular disease over time. In addition, insufficient sleep affects growth hormone secretion that is linked to obesity. As the amount of hormone secretion decreases, the chance of weight gain increases.

Myth: Snoring only affects the health of the snorer.

Fact: Snoring doesn't just negatively affect the health of the person snoring, but also the health of the person lying next to them in bed. A typical snorer usually produces a noise that averages around 60 decibels (about the level of vacuum cleaner), but with some people this can reach 80 or even 90 decibels (about the level of an average factory). Sleeping with a partner who snores during the night has been shown to increase the blood pressure in the other person, which may be dangerous for their health in the long term. Snoring also causes the partner to have fragmented sleep and lose up to one hour of sleep

every night.

Myth: Snoring comes from the nose, so if I unclog my nose, my snoring will stop.

Fact: Having a stuffy nose can definitely aggravate snoring and sleep apnea, but in it's not the cause. A recent study showed that undergoing nasal surgery for breathing problems cured sleep apnea in only 10% of patients. Snoring vibrations typically come from the soft palate, which is aggravated by having a small jaw and the tongue falling back. It's a complicated relationship between the nose, the soft palate and the tongue.

Myth: I know I don't snore, or have apnea. I am fine.

Fact: Don't ignore your wife when she tells you that your snoring doesn't let her sleep. When a partner snores it is very difficult for the spouse to sleep. There are people who snore excessively and suffer from sleep apnea, but feel absolutely normal. However, snoring increases their risk of getting a heart attack and stroke. The only definitive way to prove that you don't have sleep apnea is by taking a sleep test. Screening questionnaires like the GASP or the Epworth have shown high reliability in identifying patient risk for sleep apnea.

Myth: If I lose weight, I'll cure myself of sleep apnea.

Fact: Sometimes. It's definitely worth trying, but in general, it's very difficult to lose weight if you have sleep apnea. This is because poor sleep aggravates weight gain by increasing your appetite. Once you're sleeping better, it'll be easier to lose weight. This is the one ingredient with many dietary and weight loss programs that's missing or not stressed at all. It's not enough just to tell people to sleep more.

Myth: Health problems such as obesity, diabetes, hypertension and depression have no relation to the amount and quality of a person's sleep.

Fact: More and more scientific studies are showing a correlation between poor quality sleep and insufficient sleep with a variety of diseases. Blood pressure is variable during the sleep cycle, however, interrupted sleep negatively affects the normal variability. Recent studies have shown that nearly 80% cases of hypertension, 60% cases of strokes and 50% cases of heart failures are actually cases of undiagnosed sleep apnea. Research indicates that insufficient sleep impairs the body's ability to use insulin, which can lead to the onset of diabetes. Fragmented sleep can cause a lowered metabolism and increased levels of the hormone Cortisol which results in an increased appetite and a decrease in one's ability to burn calories.

Myth: Daytime sleepiness means a person is not getting enough sleep.

Fact: Do you feel very sleepy even during the day despite the fact that you had a long night of proper sleep? Excessive daytime sleepiness can occur even after a person gets enough sleep. Such sleepiness can be a sign of an underlying medical condition or sleep disorder such as narcolepsy or sleep apnea. Please seek professional medical advice to correctly diagnose the cause of this symptom.

Myth: Getting just one hour less sleep per night than needed will not have any effect on your daytime functioning.

Fact: This lack of sleep may not make you noticeably sleepy during the day. But even if you've got slightly less sleep, it can affect your ability to think properly and respond quickly. It can compromise your cardiovascular health and energy balance as well as the ability to fight infections, particularly if the pattern continues. Lack of sleep has also been associated with road accidents (up to 60% of road accidents involve lack of sleep) and air crashes (Air India Mangalore plane crash in 2010 was due to lack of sleep). Sleeping for less than six hours a night is equivalent to legal levels of alcohol intoxication.

Myth: Sleep apnea occurs only in older, overweight men with big necks.

Fact: Although the stereotypical description does fit people in the extreme end of the spectrum, we now know that even young, thin women that don't snore can have significant obstructive sleep apnea. Sleep apnea begins with jaw structure narrowing and later involves obesity. It's estimated that 90% of women with this condition are not diagnosed. Untreated, it can cause or aggravate weight gain, depression, anxiety, diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, heart attack and stroke.

Myth: Snoring can't be treated.

Fact: Have you given up on your snoring thinking that it cannot be treated? There are many different options for treating snoring.

Some treatment options are rather drastic, possibly requiring surgery or prescription drugs, but prior to exploring such options it would be wise to first seek out alternative treatments. You must visit a sleep specialist to get the right diagnosis.

Myth: Extra sleep at night can cure you of problems with excessive daytime fatigue.

Fact: Not only is the quantity of sleep important but also the quality of sleep. Some people sleep eight-nine hours a night but don't feel well rested as the quality of their sleep is poor. A number of sleep disorders and other medical conditions affect the quality of sleep. Sleeping more won't alleviate the daytime sleepiness these disorders or conditions cause. However, many of these disorders or conditions can be treated effectively with changes in behaviour or with medical therapies.

Myth: Insomnia is characterised only by difficulty in falling asleep.

Fact: There are four symptoms usually associated with insomnia:

- Difficulty falling asleep

- Waking up too early and not being able to get back to sleep

- Frequent awakenings

- Waking up feeling tired and not so fresh

Insomnia can also be a symptom of a sleep disorder or other medical, psychological or psychiatric problems. Sometimes, insomnia can really be a case of undiagnosed sleep apnea.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses

That blank, white, round face
Almost filled to the brim with apathy
As I regard it from afar.

Quietly ticking and tocking
Bearing witness to us all
Almost everywhere
As if to emphasize
The impossibility of escape.

It is omniscient yet knows
Nothing
Telling us with 12 numbers
2 spinning “hands” and 44 small lines
Everything.

It aggravates me
That men thought wise in ages past
Gave power to a thing so trite and unassuming
By desiring to order the abstract.

If I were to suddenly to abandon it
I may be thought of as insane.
But how can you not be
When it is not the sun
But the beat of
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
That continually spins the world?

I’m feeling nothingness.
No giddy happiness.
No depressing sadness.
No uncontrolled rage.
Nothing.
I’m not in love right now.
I love people, I know, but it doesn’t make
My heart pump, race.
I don’t fantasize my suicide anymore.
I don’t cry myself to sleep, either.

Maybe I don’t know what I am,
Because I’m on new grounds.
I’m used to sadness.
Comfortable in my depression…
So now,
I guess I’m just numb.
Maybe a bit confused as well.
I cry when I think of someone I use to have.
I want someone to hold on to,
Someone to hold on to me.
I laugh when something’s funny.
I get mad when someone aggravates me.
Overall though, I’m plain.
Blank.
Numb.
Nothing.
Overall,
**I am nothing.

Innocent saucer eyes open wide,
Sweet budding lavender laughter.
We’ll all go down-
One by one.
Silence aggravates the wreckage
Of what I used to be.
Into an abyss of false love
I’m falling.
A love that is mistaken,
Shown in the form of tender kisses
In detested secret places-
On a moldy couch
Covered in cat hair.
The crippling angst of your fingertips
Against my cold youthful cheeks-
Tracing the outline of my fatty jaw.
Slow circles of smoke escape your chapped crusting lips,
As chunks of flesh turn to rotting hostility
Against ones own body-
The bitterness of the cold turns to sweet comfort
As a lovely numbness becomes my regularity,
And emotions and physicality become one
Persisting to disintegrate-
my soul has become
a boiling bubble of spoiled milk
With the putrid stench of pillaged skin-
The devastating devouring desecration
of a ravaged--

shik-gu
the word and idea had the
power to make me tense involuntarily.
it's strange how we hurt the people
we love the most.  

for a long time, i lived my life like a tornado,
not caring who i hurt.  often the people in my
path of destruction were my um-ma, ap-pa and
hyung [momma, pa, and brother].

time heals all wounds or it can make deep resentments
fester.  i'm glad i've chosen to walk the path of cleaning
up the wreckage of the past.  

today, my family still aggravates, but see them for who they
are, people with their failings and strengths like me.  
and little by little, i walk the path towards embracing
my own humanity, my brokenness and all.

Confined to the minds barrels,
trapped inside four white, wooden walls
that wash me with light;
creating eternity. An eternity
where your face is forced forth
with splintered teeth, wood grain whispers.
Air evades my lungs
breathing in, panic, locked
away. To stay and rot. My tongue
may become a meal; I don’t need words in here.
This chambers grand design
is an endless emptiness.
My mind’s faced with this shameless
white graceless space which
aggravates my dark creativity.
This great sin in me is great and willing me
to spill the hate hidden deep.
The rays rebound perpetually. The silence
perplexes me. Perplexes me. The silence
confined to the double barrels.
Your face, perpetually, stretching its imprint
across these walls. Blurring, screaming terror.
Eyes open, burning, comfort in the darkness
learning the eyelids inner charms.
Not the vastness. Eyes open. Terror.
Tear away these fantasies;
isolations imagination identifies with my demons.


The blank space is filled with cacophonies,
agony, smiles in the emptiness stretch beyond capacity. Silence.
Whispers, these wood grain whispers splinter my eardrums.
No matter how I try to pick (axe) them out,
this imaginary pencil doesn’t dig deep enough.
I hear no calligraphy. No beauty
finds me in here, this box of light
holds my plight and creates a world where I know no night.
I hold no right, I cannot wrong,
there’s nothing left, I hold no rite,
there’s no day to escape for sleep,
no knight to bring me dreams, no left to take me to the right place,
I am so bereft of time. Am I dead?
Dying? Lying here in wait, lying  to myself,
declining in health. Declining life.
The silence is hexing,
dissecting each piece of what’s left of me.
The canvas screams, it wants to know my nightmares,
to feel their bloodied paint on its flesh.
I’m the worm in the water.

Keep your ******* eyes to yourself

You do not get to dictate to whom i give my time
Nor are you allowed to infer who i am involved with
And no i don't ******* care which person you think i should be with
Last time i checked i was standing here in my own shoes and you in your own
So for once ignore that old saying and do not try to walk in my shoes
If the outcome is going to be your ******* research paper on how i feel about other people
Do not confuse my friendship with someone of anything more than purely platonic
No matter how many small hand touches or lingering signs of affection you think mean anything
My love life is not your ******* criminal investigation do not treat it as such


Keep your ******* eyes to yourself

children's park
two swings
one broken

childhood memories
a desire to time travel
i know i can do it

nightfall
barely any trace of humanity
darkness
cold and clear sky

feet take me to the swing

only now
as an adult
do i feel
the infinite poetry in swinging

swinging alone
in the dark,
head up to the sky,
eyes asking for salvation from the hidden stars

give me your blue peace
take me up forever
breathe your infinite void into my soul

heart keeps hoping for a flight
eyes keep looking at the sky
soul's afraid to miss a second of the infinite silence

even the screech of the old iron swing
can't break the harmony
it's the harmony itself
it's the universal sadness

mind awakens the feet
fears return -
darkness,
aloneness,
strangers passing by
spreading more fear
with their cold eyes-

the swing stops
the illusion of reality returns-

get me home,
i feel belonging in those four walls
only when sleep aggravates on my eyes-

other times it's all about incessant estrangement...

Seeing passing cars that replace stars outside my window that shoot by on streets like lights in the sky
Shedding a single silver tear and never admitting to the fact I'm afraid they just might pass me by
Trying to find the floor as my feet hang from my bedside, but I've been asleep for way too long
Dream worlds are just as they say they are and someday I'll accept that, but as for now I fear I'm not that strong
Strung out like the song that keeps playing on the radio and aggravates the tenants in my head
Stubbed toes and headaches greet me as I shift through this humble room as if to remind me I'm not dead
It is far too early and I've been up far too late to greet the day with the vigor it deserves
Heating a simple cup of coffee to get a jump start on God knows what and trying to remember the purpose it serves
Seeing every moment through my eye and taping it in my mind, knowing the director will probably edit out this scene
Thinking of you randomly as I cut myself shaving and wondering if you have to deal with this monotony
Then realizing if you were here with me, Mary, if you were here with me we could share in this not so special day
And I would have a reason to get up in the morning but even more so for my mind to stay awake
Brushing my teeth as I take a shower and looking down at my feet at the drain and visualizing me sinking down
A mixture of toothpaste and water trail through my porcelain tub and disappear from my view into the ground
Jumping out of the shower and drying my hair as I look at the digital clock to see I've got fifteen minutes to truly wake up
To get dressed and proper, put on my hat, jump in my car,and be at that one place at that time for that other stuff
Looking at my unmade bed and knowing that if you were lying there in your tanktop and boyshorts I'd be right there with you
Knowing that if Mary was the one lying on my mattress with me then my day would consist of her in view
Waking up from my daydream to see that my safe fifteen has wound down to just an unsettling five
Throwing on my pants and shirt while balancing on one leg as my sneakers are slipped on and tied
Vigorously searching for my hat only to remember that I left it in my car yesterday
Running down the steps only to run back up when remembering I had forgotten my keys in my disarray
My positive minutes turn to waining seconds that yell at me and I bolt for my car door
Looking at my cell and muttering under my breath, wishing that my time was a bit more
Finding my half way marker in the seat of my car as my engine turns after the second or third time
Wishing you were in the passenger seat and not only just a wish in my mind

There was a boy beside the river and he smelled like poetry.* His lips watered the flowers in my tongue and soon grew infused with words and metaphors. His touch delivered a tidal wave of poetic shock that awakened my dull veins. But one night, he had his arms around me but somehow I still felt cold. And my lungs are suffocating with toxic that he hid behind his artistic mask. When he was mine he drowned me in poetry. When I was his he drowned me in salt water.  My spirit is lurking in the riverbank where I first met him. There was me, above the water, my poetic veins contaminated by salt waterthat aggravates the wounds inside of me. He was sitting there by a stone, smelling like poetry, looking for his next victim.

Music, a double edge sword.
It aggravates gaping wounds;
It mends optimistic spirits.

A magic that can ascend one to
A higher plane of existence,
Or a boulder that can send one hurling
To the bottom of Dante's inferno.

A cupid that gives repose to distressed spirits,
Or a scythe that leaves a furrow in the heart of a cynical soul.

They say time heals, I say music aligns the stars,
Fuels the flare, unclouds the gloom of the skies;
Brings spirits closer to enlightenment.

I chose to embrace her, drop the deadweight,
And unlock the shackles of my heart.

You know what I can't stand?
What really just, beyond words, aggravates me
Maybe not even aggravates,
Maybe it's more like, it makes me so sad
Hurt, if you will
Why can't my friends look at me,
Or anyone else for that matter
Because I can tell you
The number of times you retweeted something,
The number of times you clicked like
The number of times you watched a video loop
Was a hell of a lot more than you even
Glanced anyone else's way
If friendship is so **** important,
Then is it you're holding you're phone
Closer than you ever held me?

I Need To Make Some Change's,
This Person I'm Becoming Is Just A Mere Reflection Of The Person I Once Was.
Soon Enough People Will Recognise The Fact That I'm A Fake,
That All I Want Is Approval.
Desperate For Attention,
Physical Or Emotional,
Becoming That Every Person Hates,
Taking Advantage Of Many,
Truly Loving The Few.
I'm So Angry,
Angry All The Time.
I Struggle Not To Lose It Sometimes,
I Don't Want You To See That.
That's Who I Used To Be,
But I'm Losing Who I Am,
And The Only Thing To Fill That Void Is Me,
The Old Me.
No One Liked The Old Me,
I Was Trouble,
Unpredictable,
Unreliable,
Untrustworthy,
Violent.
I Can't Go Back To That,
Fighting Everyday,
Trying To Justify Everything I Did With Lies.

I Think It's Her,
She Has A Effect On Me,
She Aggravates My Very Inner Being,
She's Like My Full Moon.
I Can't Trust Myself Any More,
I Have To End This,
But I Don't Know How,
The Answer's Are Lost On Me.
I'm Scared,
The Thought Of The Old Me Scares Me,
All My Friends Having To Meet What I Once Was,
They Don't Deserve That,
I Must End This,
But How?

as I lay down my head
my phone next to me
on the bed
your text
vibrates across the mattress springs
like a technological tinnitus
inside my ear
my consciousness
you want to talk
but not like that
just to make an unarguable point
guilt ridden acronyms
miss-spelt accusations
and inappropriate emojis
convey your emotions
with a twisted sarcastic humour
interlinked with your vent
you know that from the safety of 4G
it aggravates me
I’m bored with it all
too much to even reply
it would make more sense
if you weren’t
abusing me from the spare room

Did she love me?
Does she now?
What can I do to get her back?
Am I useless?
Pathetic and weak by choice?
Did I forget who I was?
What the **** is wrong me?
I'm tired of the questions
Never accompanied by an answer
It's just somebody's opinion
That aggravates the rage
This ******* cliche life
Is a ruined wasteland
I might as well end
She awoken the sleeping poet in me
****, now I know why it went to sleep
One answer sponds two more questions
Should I love this girl to the fullest?
Should I avoid asking her out?
How badly will I hurt her?
Will she be the one to hurt me?
Life full of riddles and I'll riddle something for you
Is a life worth living if it was never given a chance to be lived?

My mom sits alongside the bed, a calm, quiet scene,

be that as it may, at that point, yet again, a feeling of fear crushes what may have been.

I see the no man's land in her eyes… a desolate, forlorn place

where gestures and grins can't mask the pity in her face.

She strolls where nobody else can go, very not too sharp and visually impaired

to anything she used to know, for haziness mists her brain.

Rather she sees a ghost world, where truth and dreams join,

like smooth strings of spider webs twisted around a shriveled vine.

Also, I can't enable the route to feel, the musings I can't deny,

the hurt that essentially won't recuperate, the outrage that won't kick the bucket.

Regardless I detest what she's progress toward becoming, what she has done to me,

and afterward my blame just abandons me numb, for I can't set her free.

Where used to be love, there's just dread at what she now may state;

I prefer not to figure what I may hear, the value I'll need to pay.

She hurls a moan and grasps my hand, at that point tears my life separated.

I know she doesn't see, however yet she makes me extremely upset.

"If you don't mind let me know, dear, how is my kid? I've not seen him for quite a long time.

He used to bring me so much delight, however now there's just tears.

I adored him along these lines, my exclusive child, and thought he felt the same;

I can't think what I have done to give him cause for fault.

I see him out there on the track… he goes to meet his Father,

and after that they both return striding… he's such a great looking chap.

The child and father, next to each other, both look so fine,

what's more, I stand viewing, loaded proudly to realize that they are mine.

Be that as it may, now they're gone, I don't know where, and I am expelled here,

with one little room, a bed, a seat… they've given me a chance to vanish.

I can hardly imagine how they'd do this, fair basically leave

without a word, a grin, a kiss, to help me as the day progressed."

I need to yell "That isn't valid!" yet mute any revile,

for belligerence does not traverse, and just aggravates it.

Dementia stalks its defenseless prey, and hits with unobtrusive power;

steadily, that moderate rot seeks after its lethal course.

Her memory would wax and wind down, and regularly she denounced

my Father and I of some crusade to keep her everything befuddled.

At that point came the day she got very lost while going by a companion,

furthermore, that was the point at which we learnt the cost, and knew where this would end.

This injury took away her life… where once she'd generally driven

as little girl, mother, cherishing spouse, an outsider strolled.

She must be in full-time mind, a decision that we lament,

in any case, back at home, to our despondency, her needs couldn't be met.

My dad won't visit now… he can't stand the torment,

what's more, discloses to himself that still, some way or another, she'll act naturally once more.

So I am left to confront her distress, to see her gradually age,

tolerating that there's no help from persistent wrath.

However as I watch her staying there, an apparition of days now gone,

I find I'm much more mindful of how her light once shone,

as she battled bushfire, dry spell and surge, and never stopped to endeavor

to spare our territory, our fragile living creature and blood, and keep our fantasy alive.

For she was energetic, solid and intense, a pioneer to all,

a lady who couldn't develop old, who addressed any call.

She never let a neighbor down or turned back one in require,

what's more, she was respected in our town for thought and word and deed.

Be that as it may, now she's caught, she can't get away from this no man's land of the brain,

a damnation that has no frame or shape, that can't be characterized.

And after that it comes, the frightful idea, however narrow minded it might be,

that nobody's sheltered from getting gotten… it may one day be me.

Forgotten souls
Lost before it was over
Sat on a meadow's hill
Taught by time.

Heads and hearts are seldom there
Taken aback by a surface
Free from shackles
Nighttime gives us that impression.

Honest in endevours
Genuine in heart.
How tuesday became thursday.
Was meant from the start.

Forcing efforts into front heroes.
Fears are not quenched.
Demeaning, aggravates.
Tears pristine.

Your stubbornness
        rivals mine
           aggravates me
             challenges me
      and yet
  is an endearing quality.

This independent woman
      is driven mad
           by your dominance
                   and thirsts for more of you​.

Your inner boy
      excited by childish joys
​matches your ruggedness
     ​that comes out to play at night.
​
This once modest woman is greedy
     for more of you.

​It won't be long
           till
    she'll be
left
         addicted
                    to you. ​

my dad, his rage terrifies me,
the way he treats my mom aggravates me,
his constant neglect enrages me,
he is a workaholic,
sexist,
racist,
homophobic,
narcissistic,
trump supporting,
white man.
with a feminist,
bisexual,
free thinking,
Liberal
Daughter.
who never apologizes for things he does wrong,
never makes time to chat with his daughter,
who never cares,
about anything,
other than,
Himself.

I am the poet
I have been whispering obscurities in dark corners for many years now
And I like it that way

I am dark and brooding
Obscure and abstract
And I like it that way

I am the craftsman
Allowing language to consume me
And I like it that way

I am impervious to permanence
And tire of fence sitting
And I like it that way

I am living the rhythm of symbolism so as to
Pawn it as wisdom
And I like it that way

I am the tactician step, step, stepping through
Through the abstract and on to you
And I like it that way

Having found that symbolism rhythm
I am weaning my way off words

Having found my addiction
And now feeling the friction

My addiction isn’t to words though
It’s to whispers

Through the journey from abstraction
And into the rhythm of this reality is
Where I consumed all of it
I even drank down the first person
With a perspective shift and a lime twist for garnish

Now it’s time to inspire
Let's put on our costumes because
Reconciling truths
Aggravates liars

And I like it that way

My back against the glass,
I'm sitting waiting for you.
I'm cold but I can take the breeze.
I wait patiently,
my hands in my pockets.

There's butterflies in my stomach,
my hair is flying in my face.
I check and wait for the bus to come,
I see one, but it isn't yours.

While I'm waiting patiently,
I hear a knock against the glass behind me.
I turn around for a complete surprise,
there's you.
Your hand motions tell me to come,
I follow.

As we hop on the same bus you were on,
we catch a seat.
Me staring out the window,
your arm around my shoulder.

You kiss me on the cheek,
and my whole face becomes red and warm.
I feel secure,
you right next to me.

We hop off the bus to get another one,
we wait.
The bone-chilling weather aggravates me,
but you keep me warm.

Our first kiss was memorable,
people tend to stare.
You grab my ***,
I grab yours.

You hand me a stick of mint gum,
I shove it in my pocket for safe keeping.
Our bus finally arrives,
it's gonna be a long trip.  

The bus is crowded,
but we can't stand long.
You hitch up a seat for us,
but there's only one.

I have to sit on your lap,
you don't seem to mind.
You're in pain though,
not my fault there's no seats.

A guy finally gets up,
there's a free seat for me now.
The bus trip is dreadful,
but it's worth every dime.

We get off the bus,
we have to walk still.
Hand in hand as we go, the cold can't stop us now.

Once we're in, we're finally warm.
The mall is huge,
we walk a little, shop a little.

Those endless times of our lips touching,
we must be careful so people don't interrupt.
We grab a bite and drink,
we cuddle.

Our legs walk through every entrance,
not my fault I love to shop.
More lips are touching,
hugs too.

The sun gets weary, and dims down a bit.
We must get home soon,
one more entrance, it wont be long.

It's time to head out,
the sky paints a sunset view.
We catch that bus,
we're warm again.

Our day was exquisite,
too bad we only lasted a week.

It's funny how you can live your whole life in the same place and never push forward. You'd think at some point the stillness would start to choke you but really, it's the people. It's you.

You are the problem, you outgrow your family and your friends and your love of watching the sun set rather than rise. You crave new beginnings, one-way train tickets and silence – only silence. Anything louder than the pounding of your heartbeat aggravates the creeping headache that your trusty ******* ibuprofen can't rid you of.

Somewhere along the line, who you are isn't enough.
-
Nursing new habits isn't always a good thing.

Granted, some provide you with a sense of self, a reason to wake up every day for a little while, or at least until the snow melts into the early spring grass. Some habits warm you up like a great big mug of coffee, like your favourite song, like brushing hands with strangers.

Some habits hold you down at 5am when you're still crying. At times it feels so **** good to finally have someone agreeing with you that you don't even mind what it is they're agreeing with. You're two souls in your head, shaking hands on the fact that no one would miss you if you were dead, done, disappeared.

But you don't make plans; don't need 'em. You don't grab a knife or a bottle of pretty white pills, and you don't open your second-story window to crush your skull on the stone-hard January ground. Your hour-long showers aren't ****** razor-blade cover ups. Your long sleeves don't hide scars. On some days, your mother remarks that you look very pale however, and in that moment your ******-up baggy eyes do hide some secret slice of you that you'd rather not share with "the living". The unconditional love makes you feel guilty for all the crying fits, the self-addressed suicide notes and the black black thoughts.

Sackcloth is the garb, of two men shortly to appear
They’ll be on the Temple Mount, watch them with great fear

Forty months plus two, they preach both day and night
A Gospel like no other, condemn sinners for their plight

The Little Horn of Denial, this so aggravates
What they say and preach, he really really hates

Do not attempt to stop them, they have a warning dire
Go ahead and try! On you they will breath fire

Lost in the sweet feelings of gratefulness
of making love and the zeal to please
she who knows how to sway mercy from disdain
she who aggravates or sweetens my chains
mesmerizing me during sad or tranquil hours
increasing my affections with her indifference
she who holds the authority and the power
to keep account of my joys, my love, and my pain

How many times
One dream so it seems?One fight
one more addiction
Is it in one card prediction
Did someone tell you
they love you
There you go the cry

Or they need you
Don't ask why-?
How they used you
Only one time you were
too good
You knew his game
Be the Robin hood
Steal from the rich
Only one time
Lotto what is the motto
So many swindlers
You didn't see the
numbers coming

Seeing through his lies
he's humming
Taking away someone's mind
To switch the lightheadedness
match
They know there prey

They wanted you just
to hear it the catch of the day
Never too late clean slate
He aggravates such etiquette
Being pulled on his strings
He's carrying your weight
of wings

No manners what happen
to her many tears of flowers
The competition being
the sore loser he showers
or take one good
beating
Getting a second wind the winner
someone
beat him to it from behind
Takes one time to know
the fate whats in front of you
I don't think so we are not through

Is that what we saw
from close up painter Gogh
Or it was your farsighted
eyes of your imagination
Did it get you so fed up
So near for him nearsighted
Pay your rent it happened
the very first time

The first time ever I saw your face
Throw your clothes and suitcase
One bad apple in my song
Birds and the bees throwing it to
the birds your picking
way too many seeds

Sesame noodle brain or pumpkin,
Head  takes one time to wet her bed
What do we represent
The munchkin land takes one to know
  Disney land
No man is an island shady roots
of the tree, he shows his
fortune hand
Takes one bad copy
For the counterfeit hand

Again takes one to know one
Love me or not or he loves me
or won't
I cant get out of my French knot
Too many reasons I'm not going to
tell one side of the story
When there are a million reasons
Someone keeps lying and
buying my story

At the deli, cold cuts
The rating one good movie critic
Don't panic Super bowl
Bologna Salami Hoagie PA
Takes one time to reach your goal
All turkey necks waiting
so long you
only got
one ticket

Beatles she got a ticket
to ride she got a ticket
So many songs but only
the cruel to be kind
The two-way mouth street
At your ***** feet, one
sunny side closed
the street

Takes only my heartbeat
Robin redbreast only one
the bird you tweeted too
many times heads and tails
Flipping nickels and crimes
one bad interview
One thing to gain another rear
view window Alfred Hitchcock
  couples they kiss and pass
Twin doubles
one piece of the rock
Two headboards are better than none

You see one
a nasty side of her cheek
an Oxy Miss Roxy a pimple
Forgive me one
chain link are we all linked to know
only something
How that very one thing
bothered me

Her glasses yep you're getting old
I could use a double by now
But I am human I could
use a smile
My one and only
or way too many
traffic jams
Don't point your finger
Computer slammed it
I love strawberry
homemade run
Raspberry, we know
Mom always bought
blueberries
She knew what was
good for us
Everything is a mix
not one flavor the trio
Only the lonely got
to be her bio
take one miracle whip
minute
One computer crash
One blink of your eyelash
She takes her time throwing
out her hefty so nifty yard sales
  Her garbage trash
Mom telling me you buy one
good thing news flash

Chamber Blabber dapper do
 takes the Babalou one singer
Lady GaGa performs hella
Queen  to get her bed rest
She is spanking mean
one night beauty sleep

Women for one
For one lady that thinks
she's the only one
Having his one baby boy
Like the ****, he forged
her name like boy-toy
Like a fat Porky Pigpen

What one slice of ham left
at the deli
There is only one
Houdini or the designer
One creative style
Valentino
Takes one photograph but one
too many stares
Come to see the Mona Lisa

You say Holy crap I have
been trapped
So wired up my coffee
Take one Starbucks
Hip just one big tip
Hip Hooray
I never saw such
vultures so many cultures
coming out in one day

All this time with one person
please get out
of my poem line
She takes so long with her
call we used to
have a phone line

Now she loves to be inside
Her own brain not taking
New York train
She will never complain
about how it takes
one to know so many
well-known artists
In the cell like a jailbird
con artist
Only one call on
her cell phone

I know that it's twisted,
But, what love isn't
It steadily grows in your mind,
Vines intertwined, each branch is a vessel
To the heart of the blind,
because that's what love is.
Simple, how it complicates
When it breaks,
There's no remedy for how it aches
The mistakes, that you so awkwardly pursue,
Are the branches that lead to the, I love you
Now tell me and listen,
Let the quick sand, quicken
As you drown in the dust
Of what you cooked in the kitchen
You thought it was religion,
When you said your vows,
Like an animal you're stricken
When they, she, takes you down,
Simple, how it aggravates,
When you take,
Your last step.
Hard to believe it when you feel
A back-stab wound,
You're all consumed,
You want to crawl inside,
With the rage that love has blinded,
The truth is harder to take,
Than any magic pill you make,
Any time a simple memory,
Sneaks up to say, 'Hello!'
You're breaking every mirror
To not see your face bellow.
There you go, it's twisted,
But, what hate isn't,
With nowhere to go,
You feel like the convicted.
So you're trapped in a life,
That you don't want to be in.
You'd love to start over,
Just where to begin?
Tears are like, rain on the window of your cell
It's fine when you're here,
No one can hear you yell.
Anything, so long as you forget that smell,
The one that's so good, it's like poison in the well.
You want to drink.
God you know how much it hurts when you do.
Hey, take another sip...
It's not like the memories are through with you.
They're like the torturers
And you're a rat in their cage.
An experiment sometimes; Life.
It can go both ways.
You just never believe in bad fortune,
So why bow to the danger?
In the depth you're so hollow,
Because inside is a stranger.
There they are again,
The tears,
The fears,
The anger,
The stranger,
The hate,
The scientists.
Back again with prodding sticks.
They're in your mind,
And there, they're rooted.
You once grew love like a tree,
But, your world's upside down.
So all you have are the roots.
No... wait, they're thorns.
Like the roots...