"disassociated" poems
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
Rough ,Wet, Make it hurt
Sore in the morning
No time to flirt
No love, no whispers
Not even a kiss
Like animals, Mechanical
Tasting this
Bruises, teeth marks,
hickeys, thirst
******* licking, Harder, grinding
The spot, Almost
Screaming, finding
Spasm, tightening
****** blinding
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Quaint
pink curtains and tablecloths.
White walls.
The sugary smell of almonds, pistachio
and butterscotch skip around the room,
playing hopscotch and Mary Mack.
The display is impressive,
I can smell each grain of sugar
in these petit cupcakes and dollops of icing.
And then a little girl wails!
Mommy won't buy
her anymore
sweet treats.
Bawling--
the girl does an angry-stomp-dance-
and then a woman, livid--
storms up to the counter.
I said half dozen almond biscotti.
I can't take these to my book club.
Isn't anyone here competent?
Her booming voice has no effect
on the lone,
tired African-American woman behind the counter.
She seems disassociated from the present chaos.
The dark circles under her eyes
and the surrounding pursed lip wrinkles say everything.
Excuse me, but I've been waiting
on a refill of the complimentary coffee
for over ten minutes now
an uptight gent in a business suit complains.
When the woman behind the counter
pulls out out a shotgun--
there is silence.
This ain't what I wanted
she whimpers just before
the weapon gracefully slides
under her chin--
--!BAM!--
As I walk out the door,
I wonder how long it will
take for someone to realize
that's not red icing or sprinkles
on the cupcakes.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
The wingless angels of demonic races
Are watching from the wings
With blood-stained faces
Like a wide open road spread out
Between a million trees
I see them kissing with their masks on
A glass of scotch in hand
And I can't trust anything so far
From this century
So far from light in these
Disassociated states
Thought goodness was a solid
But their halos fade by day
And your scales have turned into paper mache
As we fight for the reins on this
Sleigh ride into obscurity
Poor by way of three
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
I let the beat come in so can I commit a sin again,
With my friends, asking does this madness really ever end?
It’s cyclical, repetitive and cynical,
I’m a loser lost in the place where winners go,
Like a maze, without an exit in sight,
These type of thoughts keep me awake every night,
I can’t get an ounce of sleep, so I get a gram of dro,
And that keeps me problem free for an hour or so,
I know it’s wrong, sort of physiological dependency,
I struggle, feeling like the weight of the world’s been set on me,
I’m disassociated until I get a beat to slay, because
Writing helps me find just right where my place is,
If not, I get wasted, a drunk punk, faceless,
I know I’ve got a problem, but i’m too scared to face it..
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 8:09 PM UTC
oh what sustains this mind
a mind that teeters
on the edge of a spiral vertigo
that sways and rocks
in an unease of palpitations
attempting to escape
from the brutal insensitivity
of the granite faces that occupy the streets
a mind of hallucinated perceptions
with a constant stream of imagery
that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation,
the articulation of its inner geography
where a frightened availability of disturbance
in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti
leaves speech vacated on the tongue
where eyes are pushed to see
a discord of sympathies for different dimensions
that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate
living in an inner dialogue
of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations
a self alienation that heightens
the poetic colouring of the imagination
causes a ************ of the mind
that makes me cripplingly aware
of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet
makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world
yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum
to do rather than be
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
It was as simple as
turning off a light, or
crushing a bug.
He realized early
that reality had
a brutal side;
band aids didn't
stick to his heart
so he checked out;
he disassociated with
the scenery around him,
and created a kinder
world, with no
brutality or cruelty.
And then one day
he built a
sailboat made of
cardboard and silk,
and just sailed away.
There were no
shadows as he
smiled at the
putrid, bright sun.
Sep 24, 2021
Sep 24, 2021 at 6:10 AM UTC
I count my steps,
my heart like some
mis-ticking pedometer
uneven and syncopated
disassociated and dislocated
with my head in the clouds
I found, retracing my steps,
my foot in my mouth
all the while we kissed.
No wonder, then
that you tasted like
the roads we traveled together,
each time more insipid than the last,
and each word I spoke
was muddled
dry and bland
or saturated and sticking
under fingernails
between your teeth
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
anger should be expressed
not held up in your body
that only creates a huge mess
but the only thing i think of
when i see those red words
is the time when the tv
had to be so loud
it would drown out the screams
of my parents voices,
yelling at each other
that was my safe place
a maxed out volume on a tv
on a paisley print couch
watching a 90s show
now the only safe place i seem to find
is the one where my headphones blare in my mind
or when i’m at a concert
second row, or barrier crowd
the bass so loud,
all those red words
they seem to disappear
there’s days i can’t have that
and those days i explode
those days are the days i’ve been coded
disassociated
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
*You called me cupcake
Because that's all you saw
The sweetest parts of me
Not the the scars that I bore
I will call you a lion
Because of the strength in your heart
You were always so brave
So caring, so smart
But now we have both turned to mice
Too scared to fight our wars
Because you are not longer mine
And I not longer yours
This is not what I wish
Disassociated from you
Without a word spoken
To much isolation for two
I want you to know
That I still love you
Just not the way...
I use to
I want to talk
I want to speak
I want you to smile
So my world isn't so bleak
Just because your not
My whole world any more
That doesn't mean I don't
Want you to be part of it*
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
Do you remember when we met?
Cuz I feel like it was so long ago;
That you handed me that flyer
And invited me to your show
I thought it sounded stupid
So I decided not to go
But you didn't hold it against me
And our friendship managed to grow
Eventually you became my person
The one that was always there
You held me in my hardest moments
And could always show me you care
Even when things got rocky
We knew how to work it out
And it was only ever a matter of days
Before a new level of friendship would sprout
But lately things have started to change
I feel that you don't have my back
And though I'm trying hard to forgive
I feel our friendship is starting to crack
You started to call me less and less I've started to give up on you
And then you just stopped coming by I've began to drift away
The worst part is you always defend I don't want to put in the effort
All of the people who make me cry On a street that's just one way
You never seize opportunities I just don't have it in me anymore
To have me in your life To always be fighting for you
Then whenever we finally talk It should be this freaking lonely
We usually get into another strife It shouldn't make me feel so blue
And I'm not saying it's all your fault... ....I'm not sure what went wrong
I'm just not sure what to think... ...How we got so disconnected
We just keep drifting apart... ...And you don't seem to care
We are just SO out of sync... ...And I just feel dejected
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
Depression
My old friend
Oh my, oh my
Where have you been
You creep back into me
Ever so sneakily.
How i wish, we can make amends
After all this time spent
My old friend,
You cut me open
Then stitch me closed.
My tears flow and flow
Scars open
Bleeding out into the unknown.
Then,
Just like that
You shut me off.
Disassociated,
Now I am numb
To the bone.
My old friend,
It is either all or nothing with you.
Well I am sick
Of having to come up with reasons
Of why I am not feeling well.
I’m through with you.
Out, Out,
Gone be.
You are not me.
I will not be defined by the lies you shout and whisper to me.
My old friend, you will not take me with you
I have worked too hard,
Towards light,
To stay on my own path.
My mind has blossomed and my heart has been watered
You will not **** me dry.
Leave me, Leave me
Let me be.
-k.c
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 1:14 PM UTC
Sunday newspapers continue to gather fragile New England snow on the curbside,
a stomping ground for purgatory, the home for these roller-coaster thoughts.
i'm not much for small talk.
my clothes are always inside out and i'm raging losing battles with my steel-toed tear ducts-
steel, as
grunting is a masculine expression,
and so i'll lift weights,
but gain no strength, just aches of all of the intimacy that I've never allowed myself to emit or absorb.
a soggy sponge,
a rotten oak stump,
fallen leaves-
a childhood meal coming back up over the fists and the heaves.
counter-intuition,
the alcohol binds the seams;
tear ducts are dams
and everyone needs a method of additional reinforcement.
numbness and empty-mindedness aside, I'm
still a make-shift dumpster lover,
hardwired, disassociated hinge-sucker.
too sensitive to open the window blinds or morning newspaper,
there is still no muscle definition, only
liver damage.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
A notice to a person:
Get out of me;
I can feel your
Jarring fire in my bones,
Rattling wind hiding
Between each of my ribs.
You're a ghost in my thoughts,
Sleeping between each word and
Disassociated idea,
Waiting for the opportune time
To connect it all
And force me to look.
I won't look.
Force me to look.
I won't look.
Force me to look.
I won't look.
Writhing around in the pits
Of my nethers,
Feeling the claw marks,
Exasperating the
Prickling sore
Of social inexperience.
It's your fault,
In the end,
Though you may
Warp it otherwise.
I doubt you have such tact
To trick me,
To force me to look.
I won't look!
To force me to look.
I won't look!
To force me to look.
I.
Won't.
Look.
Distort it otherwise but
I doubt you have such grace
To undermine me,
To force me to look.
I won't look!
To force me to look.
I WON'T look!
To force me to look.
I WON'T LOOK!
I WON'T LOOK!
I WON'T LOOK!
A PLEA,
A DESPERATE,
LAST DITCH PLEA
TO SOMEONE-
SOMETHING:
GET THE **** OUT OF ME.
I CAN FEEL YOUR STINGING COLD-
I WON'T LOOK-
THE PRYING ANTENNAE-
I WON'T LOOK-
THOSE HAIRLESS CLAWS-
I WON'T LOOK-
THIN, LITTLE EYES-
I WON'T LOOK!
I WON'T LOOK!
A THREAT TO MYSELF
I WON'T LOOK
COMING FROM WITHIN
I WON'T LOOK
THOUGH COOKED WITHIN THE PIT
OF MY BODY
I WON'T LOOK
AND ENACTED WITHOUT
I WON'T LOOK
MY PERMISSION
I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOOK I WON'T LOO-
I looked.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 8:35 PM UTC
management and what YOU do with it
you'll noticed, i emphasized YOU
carve my likeness out of marble
cast it off shore, covered in barbed wire and
with cinderblocks attached by means of
a rope, let it sink weighed down but
unanchored and unsettled and disassociated and disappointed and concerned and confused and most of all but at last mention, alas
the sickness that i can
never seem to rid my orifices of
static usually but
for now frozen in endless motion
dead at first glance
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
I hold your hand
but mine has no sensation
numb and heavy
it belongs to someone else
Horror stricken
at how this feels
I cannot touch you
I cannot want you
Any more
The elements of rope
that had bound our tails
as we swam to hide
from Typhon
have been torn
Forever
like the flesh of
my soul that had waited
for you
Only for you
even while I did not speak
secrets you should have known
my whereabouts clandestine
did you forget
that what happens
on the outside
is merely fog of a
disassociated self
I only become real
in the mirror of your eyes
and smooth awakening
of your caress
You were the one
to understand my world
but today,
after being apart for so long
I am still numb
even though you hold my hand
and I pull it away
as you cry and rage
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
I sneak inside your mind
and tiptoe amongst
the broken glass
skirting around
disassociated thoughts
watching arguments
you thought you lost
sitting in the bleachers
of the upper reaches
of your subconsciousness
I find
I'm not the only spectator
that dwells within
your mind
you sit next to me
****** bare feet
you whisper softly
*you're in for a treat
See that white knight
upon that fiery steed
that's you
waiting, for me
Waiting for the battle
sitting so calm
here I come
upon the darkest horse
ready to do you harm*
I sat quietly in the stands
of your twisted tournament
holding onto your hand
waiting for spears to rend
skin from flesh
tear flesh from bone
waiting for blood to pour
from an empty wound
but the white knight
did not advance
just sat quietly
in saddle
waiting for a chance
for the black knight
to fall, stricken by
a ghostly lance
It was the white knights
chance, to catch him
as he tumbled
and fell
and there I dwell
inside your mind
you tumbled and fell
I caught you in time
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
(Trigger Warning/ Mentions of Suicide)
I am allergic to flowers but you are a flower that I have learned to love
I love you so much it scares me
I love you so much that I was blind for a while
I couldn't see the signs
I saw you hopscotch over cracks in the sidewalks... thought you were dancing
Saw you scratch at your skin... couldn't see you digging for intentional pain
Saw the way you stared at knives... didn't think you would use them to cut into your own body
I love you so much I went deaf for a while
Didn't hear the depression when you said you couldn't sleep and when you did it was for more than ten hours and when you woke up you were still tired but you couldn't go back to sleep or get out of bed
I'm sorry I didn't notice that you weren't happy often or ever
I'm sorry I couldn't hear you
I said I love you
But I can't help but blame myself
I should have said something sooner
Told a teacher
A friend
You
Before I could do anything you were taken away
I told myself it was for your own good,
it was temporary, that you'd be back soon
I love you so much
I forgot to eat for three days
Or I cried for three days or blamed myself for three days
Basically, I disassociated for three days
To be honest I love you but you scare me
I have a recurring dream that I get a call from your mother and she's in tears
and before she says anything I know why she called me
To say you jumped off a bridge
Or swallowed an entire bottle of pills
Or just to say that you died
Maybe she would spare me the details
(Please give critiques)
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
unattended- detached- jilted- vacant- disassociated
never been these things. wait- except-
sort of- internally.
physical- tangible- palpable- manifested- perceivABLE
here it is. see it? how pretty- it blankets the light.
how very ugly to me- as always.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
A prolific attendance
enlists the saints of now...
whose virtue's the patience
of dying.
God-house gongs
can be heard...
melting into one another
as sound and time.
The sunlight seems
to be loosing a stockpile
of days, disassociated from
"this day"...a nauseating
feeling comes when
sunlight informs more
than flowers.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
How can it be
that you can have everything
and still want more?
Am I greedy when I ask
"is there anything else?"
How can it be
that the ties of friendship
can be undone?
Are they not elastic?
Aren't they impervious
to the ever-shifting sands of time
that weather meeker men
down to disassociated
piles of dust?
How can it be
that you can plant roots
that spread and intertwine themselves,
seemingly immune to any upward motion,
just to pluck them from the ground
that nurtured them for years
and place them somewhere
unlike anything they've ever known?
How can it be
that the world can hold so many secrets
and yet our instincts tell us
to discover the truth?
No secret was ever discovered
by trusting a single source;
like the threads of a dream-catcher,
we entangle ourselves in multiple realms
to capture what we seek.
I don't know which face means more:
the smiling ones
that coax me into song, and folly,
and memories as precious as time,
or the one blemished with melancholy
as it stares back at me
knowing there's so much more.
How can it be
that we have an imagination
as wide as the universe,
and yet we never dare
to find the borders?
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
5 X 5
sitting in that chair, once more,
that chair that is my picture of me...
One:
The bay laps quiet rhythmic hellos
knows better than to ask,
just graciously accepts,
one of us says Hallelujah,
and the other, Selah!
a torrid summer of morose and illness,
lingers still, and here I am, cosseted,
comforted by familiar comfort foods,
baby waves, the gentlest of precision-crafted currents
of air, all together a baklava so sweet,
one could forgo forever eating,
but never, writing of them, to you
Two:
Crumpled tissues,
absorbers of ****** fluids,
crumpled poems,
absorbers of mental fluids,
evidence of a body and soul's
dismal anguish, creativity extinguished,
weeks of weak, months of morbid,
were the pretense that a lovely physical shelter exterior,
could ever successful well-mask the human upheaval within,
as if a summer tan could disguise the illness exposed in his eyes
Three:
Sun of moderated fall heat enters via the nostrils,
crimping the bacteria of depression,
that come from an overrun immune system,
a summer of discontent for the summer man,
who has been encapsulated by the suicide
of a man he knew only from his humorous artistry
am I better? some. healed? of course not...
but here I begin a summation of my silences,
that came with no explanation substantive,
for which I formally apologize
Four:
Four is for me, a self-addressed postcard,
way past the point of clean slates,
I am a blackboard with years of dust cumulated
from scrawls, equations, mistakes,
and here n' there a teachers favorite,
a large exclamation point!
decide that it is perhaps time
to relearn how to write poetry for pleasure,
wipe that chalk dust off some,
not for pain disclosures hall marked,
though the pain must be played through,
today, a new season starts and my record,
unblemished a perfect 0-0
Five:
Why 5 X 5? No idea!
this is how it starts for me,
a title, a notional emotion,
a horse rider with a head,
but no body attached,
no direction home,
and the words, disassociated,
pulled together and now there are
five babies tendered for your
care and consideration,
perhaps even,
for your pleasure...
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
Clouds parting, dark, the world begins to take shape.
Puffed up, longing to show their fluffy side, we lament.
The web of stars shine, disconnected patterns fading.
The background, a foreground for curiosity.
A horizon sits quietly, gently caressing the coastline.
It takes centre stage.
A coast hugging the archways, ominous, renewed.
Now filled with life we walk, invited.
A hum of scooters guides us down a winding corridor of road.
We gain momentum, marching towards the sea.
Cars break, beep, whizz; a melody for our route.
Disassociated with emotion, only impulse moves us now.
Reactions slow, we salute the passersby.
Don't accelerate, ignore if you must.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
I've
Disassociated
Myself
With
Losers:
Now,
I'm
Beside
My -
Self.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:16 PM UTC
One day you awaken.
Hit like a bolt of lightening or an earthquake.
The relief of you not being you.
A flash (like any other passing moment)-
it awakens.
Disassociated from your memories
you float with the bliss of knowing.
You can model everything.
You are aware in a moment of space and time,
chaos and order intermingle, and time seems to malaise.
Not in forks of circumstance
but depressed and flat.
Visibly slowed down.
You realize that they are one and the same,
that it was all a waking dream.
Only you can't figure out if you were born
or if you just woke up.
And in that case, who were you before?
You know that you were born
at such and such an address
in such and such a hospital but that was the dream,
horrible and beautiful, there is nowhere but everywhere.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC