Whispering to each handhold, "I'll be back,"
I go up the cliff in the dark. One place
I loosen a rock and listen a long time
till it hits, faint in the gulf, but the rush
of the torrent almost drowns it out, and the wind --
I almost forgot the wind: it tears at your side
or it waits and then buffets; you sag outward...

I remember they said it would be hard. I scramble
by luck into a little pocket out of
the wind and begin to beat on the stones
with my scratched numb hands, rocking back and forth
in silent laughter there in the dark--
"Made it again!" Oh how I love this climb!
-- the whispering to the stones, the drag, the weight
as your muscles crack and ease on, working
right. They are back there, discontent,
waiting to be driven forth. I pound
on the earth, riding the earth past the stars:
"Made it again! Made it again!"

Have you even been rock climbing, and you lose your grip.
That’s what heartbreak feels like.
One second you’re focused on your goal, one hand in front of the other, and the next, you’re falling.
Reaching for the hand hold, holding it in your grasp, then you just...slip.
You’re falling backwards, hand outstretched reaching for the handhold that was supposed to hold you up and keep you from falling, the handhold that was just there, but it’s only getting farther away.
You feel like you’re falling in slow motion.
The rope is going to catch you, but you’re not thinking about that right now. You’re thinking about that handhold you had in your grasp, but just...lost.
Or maybe you saw it coming. Maybe your arms and legs are aching from the exhaustion of carrying on for so, so long.
You’re carrying the weight of things left unsaid, or worse, things said that can’t be taken back.
Insecurities, problems without solutions, the things weighing you down weigh hundreds of pounds. And finally, limbs shaking, fingers aching, all your fight in you gone, you collapse under the weight.
And despite everything...despite all that work, despite all the blood, sweat, and tears, it’s all over. You couldn’t make it.
Despite the fact that you gave it every ounce of strength you had in your body.
It’s just another heartbreak.

Halfway up the cliff face
That's as far as I've ever gone
Because halfway up the cliff face
Is where the easy route ends

The only way forward beyond this point
A daring leap to the next handhold
Abandoning the safety of the ledge under my feet
Taking a chance

Other climbers have made their way past
Taken the leap and kept climbing upward
And others have scrabbled at the wall, just short
Falling away to God knows where

How easy to say to each one who comes by
"The climb has been pretty easy so far
I could make the jump if I wanted to
But I'm good here, thanks"

Celebrated for climbing as far as I have
Lauded for doing it with such ease
That's enough for me
Isn't it?

Refusing to jump means I won't ever fall
But I won't ever get anywhere, either
What's up there, anyway? Curiosity
Is starting to get to me

My muscles have gotten cold
I've been sitting here far too long
I try and shake the stiffness out
It's time to move forward

That handhold up there seems awful small
I'm not so sure I have what it takes
To make the jump anymore
But I'll never know if I don't try

Catch or fall I will hold my head high
Knowing I gave it everything
I crouch, taking a deep breath
There's no going back

Muscles explode into motion
Propelling me upward
And I stretch, reaching
For the next hold

~

dark early pre-dawn

body suspended between the-dark ochre earth tones of night,
and the teal pealing notes of warning of an impending morning,
signs aborning, me rising with urgency of the leaden half deaden,
torn from the bed casket to venture into a different kind of twi-lights,
nature demanding both intake and outtake, a restoration of balance

but first a bumbling wobbling, the body as carnival bumper car,
installing soon-to-be-bruising for later examination-exhumation,
lurching from handhold crevices in the walls like crazy cliff climbers,
my balance disturbed, eyes try  tearing apart the sticky glue of night,
my sense of direction keeping me from free falling into green glass
edges of glass tables, barely, and not always, red cuts evidentiary

“my balance disturbed” words fresh formed, and a poem expulsion
required to balance the unjust scales of spirit soul and the body cage,
patch an negotiated agreement between warring cousins, just a
twenty four hour ceasefire to retrieve the wounded and the
corpses unfounded in the small copses of false shelter,
like my ancestors expelled from Spain, making escape to be
strangers in strange lands, or remain hidden in place neath disguises
of clothes of new poems, prayers for old and new gods

this new poem comes quick like a young man making first love,
for the poem has been written by thousands nights of practicing,
so ready for quick retrieving in a smattering of a few minutes,
expulsion expulsion
what a perfect verbiage to capture the night terrors, the differentials,
the procession path between what was and what will be,
when my balance restored and this poem’s completion installation
in the body of my work, as a nail disguised in the works of my body,
entering by command of the pitch black gods

Miyagi

Deep inside the recesses of my mind,
My many thoughts lay dormant  --
Unwilling to be heard;
My precious thoughts, they're blurred.
Numb to reality,
Gums hit with a needle.
My feelings I cannot express,
My words they find no footing,
A limitless climb of rhythm and rhyme,
Where a handhold at one means to elevate my purpose,
And a handhold at two means to obscure my view,
Of not just the handholds, shrouded by fog
But of the view of the mountain, hidden by the gods.

Self protected thoughts within a shrine, within a castle, never to be revered, never to be revealed.

I cannot feel my legs and my mind is numb
I refuse to hear your breath and my mouth is dumb
I can feel your hands, but I am not here
For I have gone away now

Away, to where you cannot find me, the real me
To a place where i finally feel safe, where i can be alive.

I have switched off my soul to survive this place
My flesh is detached and floats away from my face
I can sense your thrusts, in a different world
You may touch my body, not me.

me, that was a long time ago, before
Before the monster that paid a visit at night.
Now look inside me, and see the curdled mother's milk
that courses through my veins.
Twisted molecules of white, distorting purity of thought.

Do you really know how you destroyed my life
With your fatherly tone and that emotional knife
Held up to the heart of a vulnerable girl
Oh, how I wish I were dead

and yet, part of me is, for some of my life is over
Bud plucked, never to bloom the flower of unbridled youth

The black hole of the past pulls me back to those arms
I struggled so hard against those paternal charms
Alas, what chance a girl, who loved daddy so much
Please make my pain go away.

But it won't, deep inside, under granite blocks of hate
Hate for you and hate for me, how did we let this happen?

Grown up now, and struggling to cope
Life seems so hard I often have no hope
it all looks so black, here within my soul
Oh, to wipe the slate clean.

A vehicle of love used as a weapon of betrayal
How sick we all must be!

Half  forgotten memories jump out of  my mind
Oh how they came, and when you were so kind
Couldn't you see how tormented I was
God help me, for no one else will.

Time does not heal my angst, nor will it ever
You and you, father and friend will you ever comprehend?

Chameleon colours play a role in my life
Artificial boundaries, coping with strife
keep out tomorrow and push away the past
but somehow today sneaks on in.

i have left my body now, detached, flying away to safety
All males left behind, good and bad, partitioned off

Even as I ignore it, the past comes right back
biding its time for a surprise attack
How can I cope with this onslaught of love
So get out of my life right now.

The past, the past, those nights, oh revulsion, oh confusion
Lust, love, like, remorse, pain, a wailing cacophany of lost childhood.

I attempt to embrace a man, maturity found
But I lose my nerve, looks like dangerous ground
An immense struggle for a girl so fragmented
Can I ever become whole?

I wear my clothes, loose around my body
Passion and pain walled off from prying eyes.

Alone, am I sentenced to spend my life alone
for who will throw this dog an intimate bone ?
I need the courage to embrace my shadows
oh please help me face the past.

The light of your affections just cannot reach my soul, deep inside
The escape velocity of my sanity is not enough

I so want to let go, have my feelings reign free
Yet I can't, for the hurt residing deep within me
Imagine, for a minute, the cross that I bear
No wonder, I stay out of sight.

You see, i only feel connected when i am alone and safe
Yet i so yearn to love and be loved, vulnerable.

Finally, today I held you tight and felt your manhood
and it did not remind me of my childhood
Agony past and pain retreated
Will this last forever I ask?

Those boundaries that were so cruelly invaded
by one who said "I love you",  left me exposed.

So brick by brick I built up my self esteem
Self confidence at last, but is it all a dream
Open my eyes, will this all fade away
swept off on the winds of self doubt.

One step at a time, out from the abyss, that cave of betrayal
I will hold this moment tightly and treasure it.
Dare I believe in this place called trust?
A handhold hacked in the rockface of my tortured mind
Will it bear the weight of tomorrow's reality?
I can only  hope the silver thread that pulls me up
shall guide me forever forward
away from that sickness of him who is left behind.
I am a survivor and I shall reach the summit
of life's possibilities, although I have to tell you
Base camp did not help my journey!

Day debt
night wept
sleep crept
Attachment.
                       Where is my attachment?
                                evening out of balance
                                        The line of my life has broken
                                                  off into separate identities
Flower feather
Hollow weather
Moonlight Canyon
                                      Skylight childhood nostalgia
                                      Stolen star
Battered cheekbones
Of weary workers keeping to
The hornet's nest
                      Reality a constant terror
                     Of city structures                         swallowing
                                                      ­                             them whole.
Blackbird rests
on an Autumn branch of
hidden meadow
checking its wristwatch obsessively for the
             Hydrogen Volcano
                INEVITABLE.
                                         Termite Corporations
                                          Cavernous Hilltops
                                        All that green is gold
(A straw man in Byzantine robes approaches
            the frosty Manhattan
    to become a relic in it's Libraries)
                         People fall in Love with coincidence,
                 (The illusion of order beyond our field or reach)
        All that love is kept in a
                    Conservatory somewhere...
                          Glossy stems connected to palpitating blossoms.

Our tired eyes are focused to the asphalt confluence
whether fever or handhold.

               Hymns ring throughout the forests of
                                                   Vancouver Island
               Dreamers hang from the Niagara Trestle caught in                
                                                   overwhelming sunlight
                                                        ­ Doused in spirit.

Holy Melancholic September
Sweeps away the dusty Summer,
                                                        e­verything seems renewed
                                                        I­n the rain..

I've said some bold words in my time -
Made tragedies of pantomime.
I've kissed some morons in my day -
Too young I thought I'll lose the hay.

I lived as the greatest lover
(Or the most pathetic, rather) -
Mad walks in the rain and letters
Oft took judgement from my betters,

Let's add to the pile morn roses,
Bookshop rushes ere it closes,
Philosophy and late night talks,
And still more mad, but sunny, walks,

Journeys on the train to Glasgow,
Two tickets to Panic!'s last show,
Bekhôled reading Thomas Hardy,
Sapphires costing a fair farthing,

And now, and then, in your study,
I'd be your debating buddy,
Then your patient, then a girl:
An embrace set you in a whirl.

Our first kiss was in tears, my love,
Our confession was at a shove,
Our first handhold was without hope,
You always said we had no scope -

And yet you'd loved me, lover mine,
Or begged for it upon my shrine,
Conceived it in my breast of stone -
You conquered, and I lost, and won.

I never spoke more equally
With any man, but now my plea
Falls down on your attentive ears
As would a rusted pair of shears.

I do not mean to **** you, love,
I meant to raise you up above
The idol that my head construed -
I've held you, never rough or rude

As loving is, but passionate
And real and true, and I, to date,
Have never felt more like a queen
Than in our kisses, sweet and keen.

And all my verses do abuse
This love of mine - I have no ruse
For I am rendered dumb by you,
And know no truth but in your view.

Sweet Uiginn's son, whom I must meet,
Swept sev'ral times from off my feet
But never truly, only now -
Why say you "No", and ask not "How?"?

I've spent the past decade
And then some
Drowning.
I'm curled fetaly,
Cradling the anchor seared
Against this inside of my ribs.

I've managed to keep my head
Above the waves,
Even with a tempest
Crashing,
Beating,
Breaking,
Forcing
It's
Way
Into
My
Lun­gs,
If only just barely.

There have been so many
Failed lifelines,
False shore sightings,
Ghost ships burning bright on the horizon.
But I continue to tread water,
Resigning myself to a life of chocking.

One day you floated by,
Quietly in time with the sunrise,
And I felt lighter
Simply from your proximity.
You stayed a while,
And as hours passed
I felt myself falling for you.
You reached your hand out,
Gave me a lifeline,
Gave me a handhold
With you.

Whispered promises
In the middle of the night,
Hushed attempts to cease my crying,
To assure me you wouldn't let me sink,
Even as I screamed at you
To let me go
In the midst of the thrall.
I pushed you away,
Fervent in the desire
To save you,
To get you to the eye,
So I could drown guiltless.


k.f.

The grass is always greener
As far as you can see
but you always sit there whining
Why him and why not me?

A better job a better life
A better house and car
You know just what you have to do
If you're gonna get that far

If you want to make an omlette
You have to break an egg or two
You have to work to earn it
Not just sit there feeling blue

Nothing is a given
You rarely move on up by chance
You've got to get a handhold
Go grab life by the pants

Just sitting waiting idly
Never gets the job done well
You can not sit and listen
You have to ring that bell

If you want to make an omlette
You have to break an egg or two
You have to work to earn it
Not just sit there feeling blue

One who sits and wonders
Why someone else gets all the fame
Has never tried to leave the bench
And get into the game

Stay hungry, do your damndest
Do not strive for second place
But, if you don't move at the starters gun
You're not even in the race

If you want to make an omlette
You have to break an egg or two
You have to work to earn it
Not just sit there feeling blue

I cannot get to you.  You
are like Jerusalem, a
misguided city. Your name is exposed
to the sun while i call to you in the
silence of the volcanic pre-dawn.
You have slides of affectation.
A pilgrim might mistake
you for the safety of a handhold
hammered in the sand.

Other
travelers knew the peril of
your affection.

You don't  reply. So cold the
monument, so silent
the wall of your response.

This is all I know
and so do you that the
messages of the world fall
like the snow on the ground
white with shadows. Mute
replicas of shared emotion.

Drink to us the sour
vinegar of the sponge.

Caroline Shank
June 16, 2022

I had held in my hands,
The bitter shards of my heart.
I had thrown them away,
To be forgotten in the dust.

I had cried for an answer,
A solution
A plan
A direction
A reason why I failed.
I had seen no road other than alone.

In my self-hate,
I had lashed myself,
For my ignorance and naievety.
For being a fool in love.

And then,
I found a light space in my soul,
I glimmer of warmth.
A handhold out of the dark.

I found a comfort in your smile,
A place where I fit in your hand.
A safety in your arms.

I want to say to you,
That you had brought into my life,
Something I had thought was lost
And I was never to find again.

I have peace,
That I am safe with you.
That I can trust your smile.
That I can believe your words.
That your hands are for care,
Not pain.

Thankyou,
For being in my life.
You make me happy.

Honored companion:
When you return,
let us go down to yon forest,
as our hearts have yearned.
I know a girl of the green
bright balms and flowering hair;
when spring comes to the valley,
she will wait for you there.

As hunter shoots the stag,
so huntress strikes the lad's heart;
leaves crunch beneath their boots,
in crisp handhold they won't part.
Grass drinks the gold dew flood,
orange sun never wants to wane;
but far beyond the verdant wood,
a martial voice calls out your name.

So grasp your sword by hardened hilt,
and with pike upon your shoulder,
live not for the joys of life;
live but to grow older.
Then mount the hills with me,
cast aside your roving bow;
for ours is a life of misery,
and in summer we must go.

All choked up inside because
                             there is so much I never say, wanting
                                                    to share everything and grow up
           way too fast, that's not how
                           things work around here, not
               now under microscopes

                                  I love you to the point of
  not breathing, a precaution to
     ensure such radical notions remain where they
       are, but today you

                                           told me the greatest thing you could
                                               ever have brought to my ears, that you
                                                             ­          recognize
                                                        the simple truth, the difference, this
                                                wonderful knowledge you and I have of each
                                                 other, something others chase for so much
                                                            time­, and yes we have some of
that loosely-defined handhold on
reality, the ticking, but
                                           I need you to know, I
                                                               ­         
still cannot find words.

Normality

Is how he stays
Awake and warm
Coated in the
Sticky sweat and
Grimed residue

From thoughts of you
The touch he craves
He can picture and
Violate your
Pure young image

Immorally

Is how my mind
Stays plagued with
A cloud of love
Wispy and soft
Adoration

From thoughts of you
Attentions craved
I can’t wish for
One **** handhold
It is a sin

Perhaps this is

Insanity

One more moment of whispered silence,
One more handhold, squeeze, release.
One more thought to unplanned failure,
One more tear from you to me.

One more step to clear the doorway,
One more goodbye, tears, we're free.
One more drink to ease to sorrow,
One more motel room door-key.

One more pill to fill the emptiness,
One more wrist slit, bleed, relief.
One more mourner on my grave mound,
One more thing I don't believe.

dear god, you humble me into quietude

she says it’s sunny and 75
nearing 3’o’clock, cooling,
let’s go for our usual constitutional,
for a lovely afternoon walk to Shell Beach

can’t can’t can’t walking now in
a bottomless pit, every handhold,
poems, newly commissioned, newborn,
broken off the wall, revealing a gleaming,
light of iron pyrite, really good fool’s gold,
cause only fools write good poetry, or even try

but tonight I’m gonna feed you bucatini bolognese
babe, you gotta walk, make some room for all the words
that will come tumbling free falling while I’m sleeping next,
you’re up prowling looking for rhymes, lines, unheard of before,
you’ll need energy to bite, write, and make loving poetry and then,
then, sleep late, my laddie-baddie, new ones on my nightstand,
for my perusal, my usual unusual man who gifts me them to
in quantities of ‘more galore,’ that I accept, adore...adore

so afterwards, I must say my morning prayer, as an atheist forgiven,
the one I commissioned, and you composed, for me:

Dear God: you humble me into quietude, with gratitude...

Lacy steel over black water -
A boy once wondered
If it was a way over
Or a step closer
To soul-lulling sleeping

A launch to lose
Wrenching torments within
A rain-swelled flow of
Dark currents to wash
When other remedies had failed

But warm water laughed
She rushed through open skin
Easing weeping wounds
And, leaving scars for tomorrows,
Returned the repaired to surface

To see the dim haze of street lights
And maybe the moon in fog again,
To fight to find a handhold
Up over the steep bank
Soggy shoes spoke
All the way
Home

Some nights I forget my way to the home
home? where is that? which side of the road?
I keep straying away empty streets I roam!

Where is the ****** moon? I shout
the moon is gone but the stars are out
stars, please, handhold me and guide
tell me my home is on which side!

Am I awake or a pawn in a game?
why every house looks the same?
my steps fall on some window light patch
I must go back must start from scratch!

window? ah, is there one with a face?
so I can say it's my address
hey stars, be this seeker's guide
lead me to my home, take me to her side!

may be a door for me kept ajar
two eyes are staring one guiding star
one heart that knows the night is not out
two ears keenly waiting for a shout

catch me from falling put me on bed
despair seizing yet hands on my head

*moon is ****** stars gone to fetch morn
I don't see her tears her nights forlorn!

Perhaps this poem is not bold
With no great sense of gall
The truth is more than can be told
Though you should hear it all
You're well acquainted with my mold
You lift me when I fall

The truth is more than can be told
Though you should hear it all
Your love's a wonder to behold
It never seems to stall
You're well acquainted with my mold
You lift me when I fall

Your love's a wonder to behold
It never seems to stall
In trial or pain you're my handhold
You'll answer when I call
You're well acquainted with my mold
You lift me when I fall

In trial or pain you're my handhold
You'll answer when I call
Your love for me shines bright as gold
No matter my shortfall
You're well acquainted with my mold
You lift me when I fall

As we fast forward in life

Event after event happens and we move on

But I have decided to use a knife

Just to let go, and never grab on



Some people say that it is wrong to trust it

But all I could say is that it was an escape

Whenever the red drops, I think 'what a *******'

And you will too, if you see what I had made


The red cape blows, and the devil sings

For he now had caught me in his trap

Sadness is all that silver brings

When the crimson flows, he laughs and makes a loud clap


For he had made your head think red

To inflict pain upon yourself, so that you could blame you

Only you, but not the one who led

You to think that this was your cue


Only one thing can stop the blood from flowing

You need a companion, one that will stand by you

No matter what is happening

And his pretty smile will be your clue



His hugs will be you handhold

In this fast-flowing river called life

His words will be all that is told

For a good friend will gladly trade himself with that knife.

Off from the crimson rose drops a last petal
Twirling, spinning into a void
Once there was brightness, fading only to black
A mind once busy left blank
Teetering on a razor sharp edge
Breath held in life’s longest wait

Searching for anything to occupy endless wait
Then down drifts the crimson petal
A handhold to pull away from the edge
Distract from the pastime of staring into the void
Grasping for any detail there in the blank
Looking for a spot of hope in the deep black

Further fall to the oppressive black
Weaving a story to carry through the wait
Though that thick blanket is better left blank
A song dependant on one lonely petal
The only thing to ever survive the void
Sitting, singing there so close to the edge

An evil beaconing urges, jump over this edge
Fall through through the black
Came through the void,
The body freezes, it is committed to it’s wait
By feet settle a single crimson petal
The mind shies away, thoughts are safer blank

Why do we wait for the world to go blank?
Oh, but what harm over this edge?
When hope only appears as a lonesome petal
One speck of crimson to soften the black
Why be plagued by this wait?
Not even a whole rose to draw from the void

Don’t look longingly into the void
Knowing that it will finally be true blank
Is this all to life, an endless wait?
Until a simple, small step over the edge
Waiting to fade from grey existence to black
Searching for hope in the symbol of a petal

Frowns caused by:
Not being able to reach the rocks in the bottom of the prettiest ocean to draw you the path that suits your existence

Not being able to show you the orchids you grew beneath my skin, the dead stars that's tucked underneath my eyelids or the half dead butterflies that keep feeding on the shivers down my spine

Stepping on the tips of my toes to grab a handhold of the cloud you named after us, I have a taste of the disappointment

We get high on thoughts we seek

Frowns caused by everything but you

I am the smoke you breath in then out and disappear for you to take another puff

I am the dried tears on your cheeks that's caused by sanity and nonsense

I am the night clouds that cover the moon and stars and everything that's beautiful

I am the seaweed in that ocean of yours

I am
Perhaps
Not what belongs to you
Perhaps
Not yet

It taunts me. To rip tendon from limb.
High climbing inspired without and within.

My feet are dug in as I press to the wall. Exhale and
Cling tighter or else I will fall.

Purchase.my right index finger must reach out now and grasp
The next handhold swiftly or the moment will pass.

To hesitate now is a plummeting fall.so
Seize the moment.

Now....Now....Now...........................

We stand,
toes knocking families of small rocks apart
feeling them tumble down cliff face of sure failure that lies ahead
Our chests beats loudly around our hearts
palms clench and unclench in anticipation
wishing to desperately search for handhold but instead remaining still
Gladiator with no weapon but his mind
that same mind that is fearfully aware of the impossibility of a victory
We are faint-hearted
We will die here today

The caverns in our ******* may tumble in upon themselves
but we push onward
headlong into the forces, amidst wind that seeks to push us back into our soft and still rocking cradles
No, we do not let the wind touch this broken flame

There is a certain power in standing naked under the scorching gaze of the ******.

So when your eyes refuse to close
in the face of whirlwind gusts of regret and imperfection
let tears stream backwards and across your face
let them settle into your ears
let them speak to you your fears so that you may agree and move ever onwards
let your clothes be rent and torn across the body that has carried you
across the years, through country and mountain range
through dark caverns of the moments where
your hands grasped for impossible hope
let them see your hands
that have built masterpiece
and broken masterpiece
let them see your chest
that has caved and cracked under the weight of misplaced sentiment
caved and cracked again under pounding contrition
heaved and drawn in reaching breath after reaching breath

Your outstretched palms may wish to search for any floating piece of garment
to clothe your impotent soul
to clothe angry, whimpering scars
the little smudges left on supple skin
No,
let them see every act of faith that God somehow evaded
every phone call left unreturned
every single talent left untouched
every moment of your heart dripping crimson guilt onto your feet
let them see every moment of bravery fallen short
every miscalculated heroic act,
let them hear the audience’s cynical laughter at
every failed attempt at beauty

because threaded into these strands of fabric
lying worn and broken
yet lying still, visible to any that wish to still point and cackle,

threaded into these strands of fabric
lies a history of what exists
and has existed
and will continue to exist in pure genuinity
there is no purer message than that same message
repeated by mockingbirds
as they commute across boundaries
relaying news of distant lands
with no perception as to what
Romeo and Juliet story they relay
what tales of awful and imperfect heartbreak
of tragedy not tragic enough for notice
but tragic yet the same

The world has yet to learn that every story is extraordinary
because time has taken the time to
pen it into it’s eternal library of existence
Record it with a seal and testament of reality
Time has given heed to the bleeding wound and painted a scar as a sign of what was not a dream
and those who prefer dreams to reality
forget that clocks don’t work in dreams

The universe is indifferent to the imaginary until
the moment words come crawling, unashamed, across tongue and out of mouth
into the open air to be swatted and beaten down or placed in glass
and it is in that moment
that
though we may die here today
the victory becomes ours.

Monday was the day of preparations
That were never made, the day of panicking,
Scrambling for a handhold when
The rocks are falling around your head.

Tuesday was the deep breath,
The calming mantra in your mind
That controls the panic from the previous day,
Steeling yourself for another week.

Wednesday was the day of realizations,
That all the things you planned to do
Are going swiftly going down the drain,
Evaporating into the recesses of your mind.

Thursday was the day of hanging on,
Struggling against a severe landslide
Of cares and worries, desperate to make it
To the top of the cliff.

Friday was the day of relief and triumph,
The relaxing of your brain muscles that
Signals the mountain peak, the end of the struggle,
The final step towards complete contentment.

The week was finally over, the war finally won,
And you realize that you must muster
Enough strength to do this again and again,
That the week is not for the weak.

(20 minute poetry)


I want to hibernate
and be alert
in a semi-comatose
state.

I want to be deep frozen,
get away from these things
I would never have chosen,
be on Life support and that's only supposing,
Life supports me at all.

Backs against the wall.
Climbing ivy denies me a handhold,
flaking cement reminds me I am old,
not everyone's equal we're all told,
some of us don't want to hear.

I'm heading again to the West End
where they tell me,
'work is the working man's best friend'
and I never believed it the first time.

Time for it all to end.

But I go on regardless,
seemingly harmless, but
in the dark I plot ******,
how deep men can be.

Just give me some Prozac
and I'll be alright Jack,
don't you worry
yourself none.

I remember every single kiss we shared,
From the boat below deck at 1 am, to the shore beneath the stars

I remember every embrace,
And how warm you felt

I remember every handhold,
How you complained that your fingers were shorter than mine

I remember our phone calls till 2 am,
About nothing and everything

I remember every argument,
How obstinate I was, how sad you were

I remember you dragging me out to a beautiful lake,
Just to break my heart

I remember feeling a cold emptiness take me,
As shock set in

I remember you driving me to the airport,
And Taylor Swift coming on the radio

We are never, ever, getting back together
You're a ******* prophet, Taylor

I remember holding you one last time at the airport,
My arms felt like melting wax

I remember you calling me drunk on your birthday,
Telling me about the guy at the bar who stuck his tongue down your throat

I remember you calling me sober the next day,
Repeating the same ******* story

I remember you asking me to come over that same night,
And me telling you that I wish I could

I remember writing you letters,
Pleading, desperate, insane

I remember you ignoring it all,
Silence still a harrowing novelty at the time

I remember the 2 years that followed,
And how far I've come, how far I haven't

I remember you falling asleep in my arms,
And how I've never been so happy

I remember you,
And sometimes I wish I didn't

In my dreams
I am a blind man
Who can't hear

I feel my way through the darkness
Knocking things over
Pulling people down
When I find a comforting handhold
I hold on tight
A selfish grip

I scream but no sound comes out
My mouth opening silently
As if in shock instead of pain
Won't someone help me?
Find me in the darkness?
Hold me tight?

I keep thinking im going to wake up
Hoping
But I never do
Because this isn't a dream at all...

If I had a wall between myself and truth
I'd climb it, but only halfway
For beyond a point there is no handhold

If my eyes are plotting against me
Don't tell me, because blindness
Is a place where the world is brighter

I won't second guess my decisions
For I'm second best, and that I accept
As a wanderer of this broken earth

I cannot lay about any longer
I'm restless, no sleep comes
To the spirit that elicits this enterprise

anxiety
is an ocean inside of me
swelling and pulling
away away away
from sanity
then crashing against my ribs
and crushing my heart with
the force of it
it is making my bones brittle
my teeth grind together
my skin dry and papery
and i am suddenly
not enough
the relentless blackness is
drowning me
my fingers are scrambling
to find a handhold
so i won't be swept away
in the oppressive
knot that is building in my chest
where my heart used to be
it has doused the flame
you call cassidy
and left a quiet shadow
in its place