"misperceptions" poems
(gulp)
Couldn’t resist a minute more.
Relapse.
I again…
After six months sober...
Here.
In this pain I know all too well.
Ten years lost to this drug my veins ache for.
First breath in the morning and last thought at night, all consumed by it.
Every cell in me craves it.
That physical euphoria my body portraits.
Feels like someone has poured pure joy into every single muscle and fiber of my being.
It makes me feel so content
Every single bit of me is singing and buzzing with life and love.
It's like the ecstasy of ******* that first blissful, pleasurable pulsation of endorphins and serotonin.
This is what I feel when I first take LOVE.
And then...
And then, the honeymoon stage is over.
Fights erupt.
Never-ending debates.
Miscommunications.
Misperceptions.
No trust.
Accusations.
Lies.
“I’m done...”
…
Again, it feels like a part of my soul is leaving my body.
Again, sitting here numb.
A toxic love...
I’m addicted to,
And there’s no way around it.
It’s already deep intertwined with my veins.
Yet, no matter the toxic, tragic event that happened before, I sit here, and I want nothing more than to spend my life next to this soul.
To see his eyes unchanged as the skin around it wrinkles and grows old is what my heart will always desire— to stare at those eyes for the rest of eternity.
Dead air…
So here I’ll wait, until you decided to come into my life again and repeat this déjà vu.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
Light waves, frequencies, and distorted thoughts. Aligned with misperceptions. Auras tainted with beings of another stage. My duality cracks into a million faces. Astral physicists of higher realms. Who needs a doctor when you have perfectly good shamans? Green monsters, unseen to the naked eye. I remain broken as twisted images carry me along the sea of paranoia.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
never knew it,
never was I self-percepted,
that anything exceptional,
lay within, neither obvious
or dormant, was just an ordinary
if not, extra-ordinary pained
child by peers and my surrounders
and my own words yet today,
do not confer any distinction
when yours irradiate me into
a stunned and silenced reverie,
a reminder, a minder, that talent
recognizes no laws of equilibrium,
equality, and certainty not, equity
so I read with shocked, shocked, I tell you,
bemusement but comprehensive perception
when the young and extra~special confide,
their own misperceptions, overwhelmed by
the anxiety
of the billions of sky stars, and letters in their
twinkling orbs when forming identifiable comets with tagalong
dust trails^ of the debris of words that are formed by
their travels and travails on orbits
not necessarily predetermined
by gravitational adult pulleys, a gravity upon
their projected, sometimes directed,
sometimes not,
trajectory
*"and yet, though an orbit is a type of trajectory,
not all trajectories are orbits"*
nor are
*"some comets, particularly
those from outside our solar system,
that move so fast that the Sun's gravity
is not strong enough to capture them
into a closed orbit*
*These comets follow an open, curved path
through the solar system and then
continue on into interstellar space,
never to be seen again*"
so be advised,
as you reassemble the debris from the multi~universe,
when assembling your owned,
unique~verse,
create your tail
and trail,
the futurity
of you is to be both
silent and loud,
absorbing and disgorging,
to awed and to be humbled,
by all that and those who went before,
all once younger and talented,
and knew this self-same anxiety,
but never let the fearing of their
the mystery of plotting of their
path
deter them
from exploring the skies and deep mines of the
sea trenches where undiscovered mysteries
abide
<nml>
4:59am
in the city where one can never see the
light of the stars,
particularly
by their owners
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 7:25 AM UTC
It's always a skill to make wise decisions
With the limited facts one has on hand.
Not all things are as they appear to be;
One must seek to understand.
Feelings can be right at times;
Some choices they are helpful for.
Although it's an art to know which ones to listen to,
And which ones to simply ignore.
It is also a great skill to see the big picture
In every circumstance
That the reason for my dilemmas
And why I am here
In each situation is not
A happenstance
Misconceptions and misperceptions
Are traps that can leave me marred;
They will overtake and seize me
If I happen to let down
My guard.
Open-mindedness is key
To the right degree
Combined with humility
That perceives the possibilities
And besides all this,
I simply cannot miss
Wisdom
The jewel to keep in the safe of my heart;
A mother of knowledge and virtue
From which I must never depart.
Though I may never find all the answers
I seek from the complications of life,
Love with Truth will be my compass
To help me live out, to the best of my ability
All that I know is right.
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 9:36 PM UTC
she's not perfection
she's big lips and eyes and sometimes people thin theirs at her in skepticism and dislike because of how she moves and smirks but
she's not perfection
she's awkward inside and self-deprecating
she's always afraid she's not quite right, off-kilter, buried far too deeply in her own misperceptions
she's not clean
she's tried every dangerous experiment offered to her, and
sometimes she feels like she's given too much of herself away,
because she wasn't sure what was important
enough to keep.
she's far from perfection, she's tainted
and she feels
a deeper emptiness than anyone could guess,
even though she will take the time
to heat her hair in perfect curls
and pick out the outfit that fits just right so that no one notices
the hurt inside and if she layers on the makeup to look natural so her eyes don't look so tired, she'll look brighter and smarter and less fazed and then maybe she'll appear to be closer to
the perfection that she's not,
cause she's a wounded deer, vulnerable and broken apart
and longing for the happy family she never had
trying to create her own reality
amongst all this vast and amazing
chaos....
aren't we all?
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
Astonishingly crass and
Brave in all situations
Comfortable in all quandaries
Daring beyond belief
Elegant and poised
Furious and feisty, fueled by anger
Grand individuality with a
Heart of ice and hate
Irreverent and haughty
Jester of pride, sarcasm, and sass
King of bluntness
Lively, rambunctious spirit
Mastermind of
Neuroticism, never in
Oblivion because
Pressure cannot persuade me
Quick to speak out against the wrong for the
Right reasons but truly
Selfish motives
Tainting the
Ubiquitous notion that every altruistic attitude springs from
Very bubbly and confident people
Wandering through life with the Greek concept
Xenia exhibited on the sleeve
Yelling boisterous excitements that could a game
Zoning in on all the end goals
These are the misperceptions
That create me
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
Late in the evening we chew over
how to foil dilemmas and conflicts
Does resolution come from
defending my ground
Or by being sure I establish
your guilt
Is life like a court
of law
Or a platform for
debate
The answer may be
far afield
In an arena where shared
feelings and misperceptions
trump facts
Where love is honest enough to yield
a renewed commitment
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 7:07 AM UTC
grit on my face…damn!
<>
city boy, progeny of the multi-cultures
any new yorker breathes, the grit fills in
the mini pores, but even better, the lines and
the deep furrowed creases of squinting worries,
inherent and inherited
from years of peering into
the future whose outcomes always fell
outside the range of ordinary misperceptions
and into the realms of extraordinarily ordinary…
even the grit and the grip of grief, cause and
consequence of my endless errored foreseeing,
equally crinkly when smiling and/or grimacing,
for I read what I have written smilingly, and grimace with
the unknown knowledge yet within, there is more to come,
but from who knows where or when, and the grit hardened
exterior groans with the thrill of pulling and
purging yet more words from the
Sea of Churn,
whose burning sensations brings cherried sundae
of mixed anxious trepidations and a groan of relief
when the work of words is done and done & delivered,
and yet:
(that fearsome worded curse)
sadly seeds the junkies need for the next fix…
and my lips issue a pleasured ****
7:59am
Sabbath Sat.
29 June 2024
Jun 29, 2024
Jun 29, 2024 at 8:25 AM UTC
The other me stares at the true me from the corner of the room
she taunts me,
mocks me,
knowing that no matter where I go,
no matter what I do,
I will never rid of her.
The other me that was born in this world to replace the true me.
The other me that is sick, disgusting
and evil.
The other me that hates everyone around her,
and bares her teeth at anyone who gets close.
The other me that was born from the imaginations of others.
The other me is how they imagine me.
The other me, created from their bias, lies, and misperceptions.
Truth is of no matter here.
Only appearance, the way things look.
And the other me speaks and says,
You will walk this earth as nothing but a ghost,
a reflection of me.
You will try to fight me until your knuckles bleed
and your feet are sore.
But you know that you will never win.
You will die one day
and I will live forever.
Feb 16, 2024
Feb 16, 2024 at 9:43 AM UTC
I have a glass heart
That bleeds red
But sees the living
And the dead
A fragile funhouse mirror
That reflects the world
With exaggerations
Distortions and misperceptions
A window that takes light in
And lets weirdness look out
A soul that doesn’t always know
What it is singing about
Whether it is a mournful dirge
Or a celebratory hymnal
The glass is cracked
On its way to shattering
Held together with glue
And love
Waiting for the breaking
But loving the unending bending
And mending of this fragile glass
Wonder
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
She
Is just like me
She
Is my age, smiles at the same jokes, cries at the same sad stories
She
Walks past me and in my mind I say
She
Is getting fatter why do I feel that I have a need to comment on what
She
Deems beautiful why does my mind run to the way her shirt fits tighter
She(ltering) me from my misperceptions of pretty
She
Is a human being filled with flaws filled with bones and viscera and
She(ll) fragments and so am I
She
Is
Me
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Shifting glances, glazed eyes, anxious me the world despised.
In the world of shadows and friendships fleeting-
Whose eyes did I think I was meeting?
I've done wrong in the past, I may agree,
but to allow this to consummate to my demise, to a certain degree?
That's hardly fair, to you and to me.
And though all I want, I need, I plead
is to start over, anew, alone, if need be,
I can't, I won't, I shan't, from my burdens flee.
My hope, though broken, scraps of the reused,
I will relight
and set fire to last the night.
Words irrevocable, misperceptions unavoidable, but the will to live, and God's unfailing love?
Those, those are unchangeable.
The next time I see those shifting eyes,
I'll put down my poignantly pathetic pride and walk away from being petrified.
I will stand tall, and from the train of shame alight.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC