18/6/09
A few lousy words to describe such a feeling,
Nothing but an understatement can be created,
But what else can I do with a cowardice tongue?
And lungs that crave to test their capabilities.
To scream every particle of air from these lungs
would be such a relief, to speak with wind
as my puppet - I would create a tornado,
Lift myself right off the ground as high as
I could spin just to see if anything up there exists,
But everything that goes up always comes down and I
don’t just come, I crash like an aircraft in a sealed off,
hidden area and I’m back on earth with two feet
nailed to the ground but I’m biting my lip to hide
the pain. And oh, I hope you appreciate the ulcers
I create inside my cheeks and the almost
permanent lump I’m swallowing in my throat,
My heart tries to climb up my body like a ladder,
As though a ladder could hold the weight, it
never makes it to my eyes and when these nails
start to loosen – my feet breathe oxygen – for a
second but I grit my teeth, close these eyes and I
screw it right back in to please them all, to
serve them all another day and all the tomorrows
I’m to survive will not change, I’ll inflict pain
just to stay as long as I can stay.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Catharsis
7-6-09
Truth and feelings. Catharsis.
A feeling so consuming, so completely
overwhelming of my personality that there
are scratch marks from where I used to fight
before I gave in to my own warped mind.
Maybe I’ve just been fighting my innate self
all of this time, quashing my true self – my evil,
angry, hate-filled self with all these righteous feelings -
of guilt, fairness, reason.
Or maybe it’s events of past that have filled me with
anger and loathing, bitterness and sick desire,
I can’t even figure out my own mind and don’t even
bother to try ‘cause it’s changing all the time -
a calm river shows but when a small stone creates
a ripple, well you don’t see the ripple but inside it
explodes like a tsunami in my mind, I’m so perfect
at hiding, the only place perfection finds me.
A calm river remains, a mystery to the locals,
It never ripples – not even in the heavy rain,
But underneath the surface there’s a darkness,
Swallowing every ripple and forcing it right down
to its feet and sometimes, the locals get a show,
It doesn’t happen very often, it’s the stuff of legends,
When I let open my mouth and I scream and words
just tumble straight from my mind through my mouth,
And tears strangle my eyes but I won’t cry,
This is enough of a tragedy for one show and how
my throat hurts and how I sit staring at the ground,
And how I stare so delicate and ashamed.
Truth and feelings. Catharsis.
A feeling so consuming, so completely
overwhelming of my personality that there
are scratch marks from where I used to fight
before I gave in to my own warped mind.
Maybe I’ve just been fighting my innate self
all of this time, quashing my true self – my evil,
angry, hate-filled self with all these righteous feelings -
of guilt, fairness, reason.
Or maybe it’s events of past that have filled me with
anger and loathing, bitterness and sick desire,
I can’t even figure out my own mind and don’t even
bother to try ‘cause it’s changing all the time -
a calm river shows but when a small stone creates
a ripple, well you don’t see the ripple but inside it
explodes like a tsunami in my mind, I’m so perfect
at hiding, the only place perfection finds me.
A calm river remains, a mystery to the locals,
It never ripples – not even in the heavy rain,
But underneath the surface there’s a darkness,
Swallowing every ripple and forcing it right down
to its feet and sometimes, the locals get a show,
It doesn’t happen very often, it’s the stuff of legends,
When I let open my mouth and I scream and words
just tumble straight from my mind through my mouth,
And tears strangle my eyes but I won’t cry,
This is enough of a tragedy for one show and how
my throat hurts and how I sit staring at the ground,
And how I stare so delicate and ashamed.
-
19-5-09
I’m always colder than the weather.
Shivering, standing alone in the snow.
Whilst everyone basks in the rays of the sun.
And I’ve always got this bitter taste in my mouth
because of all the pills I take and all I used to drink.
It doesn’t go away – that craving, it gnaws right
at your insides and right in your ears.
And my eyes are clouded by my childhood,
I can’t see past it and it paints everything I do see
into harsh and skeptical colours darker than
all the nights I cried into my pillow and receded
right into my imagination to escape one world
and fall insanely in love with another.
I’m always colder than the weather.
Shivering, standing alone in the snow.
Whilst everyone basks in the rays of the sun.
And I’ve always got this bitter taste in my mouth
because of all the pills I take and all I used to drink.
It doesn’t go away – that craving, it gnaws right
at your insides and right in your ears.
And my eyes are clouded by my childhood,
I can’t see past it and it paints everything I do see
into harsh and skeptical colours darker than
all the nights I cried into my pillow and receded
right into my imagination to escape one world
and fall insanely in love with another.
Judgement day
Judgment Day.
On judgment day I know in which direction
I will fall, the opposite to angels, to you,
my perfect angel. In life, I could never
match your stride. You were always twenty
or so paces ahead and I was always twenty
paces or so behind and the pounding in your head
could never quite match the volume of the pounding
in mine. So instead, in death, I try.
Our noses collided before our lips;
You had all the innocence that I –unwillingly –lacked
And I, everything you had yet to discover.
However, I fear the secrets I whispered in your ear
Corrupted you beyond the supposed forces of the world -
the world most know unless their doors have seen
the invisible, the destructive beings only talked about
in stories in hushed voices, in paragraphs of ‘that
will never happen to me’ but it did happen to me.
So I happened to you and took you there
But you wouldn’t, couldn’t stay – your soul held
too much innocence, too much hope for such a place,
And so we separated – lips first, then noses, then eyes closed
you ran blindly but healthy.
I could never quite catch you in life,
And I knew where you would go in death,
There was one immense flaw in my plan –
I forgot that suicide, in religion, is a crime,
And now I’ll spend my death in between fires,
As far away from you in death as I always was
in life - I’ll spend my never-passing time lying
on my back, staring at the brightest star in the sky,
I’d recognize that shine anywhere.
On judgment day I know in which direction
I will fall, the opposite to angels, to you,
my perfect angel. In life, I could never
match your stride. You were always twenty
or so paces ahead and I was always twenty
paces or so behind and the pounding in your head
could never quite match the volume of the pounding
in mine. So instead, in death, I try.
Our noses collided before our lips;
You had all the innocence that I –unwillingly –lacked
And I, everything you had yet to discover.
However, I fear the secrets I whispered in your ear
Corrupted you beyond the supposed forces of the world -
the world most know unless their doors have seen
the invisible, the destructive beings only talked about
in stories in hushed voices, in paragraphs of ‘that
will never happen to me’ but it did happen to me.
So I happened to you and took you there
But you wouldn’t, couldn’t stay – your soul held
too much innocence, too much hope for such a place,
And so we separated – lips first, then noses, then eyes closed
you ran blindly but healthy.
I could never quite catch you in life,
And I knew where you would go in death,
There was one immense flaw in my plan –
I forgot that suicide, in religion, is a crime,
And now I’ll spend my death in between fires,
As far away from you in death as I always was
in life - I’ll spend my never-passing time lying
on my back, staring at the brightest star in the sky,
I’d recognize that shine anywhere.
unnamed19
19-5-09
I had a dream the other night
It was quick-moving and jumpy
so be patient as I explain.
At first, I was in a forest – dark
and wandering alone looking for
someone to love, to find comfort
with.
Then I was crawling up vines,
Desperately scrambling might be
a better-suited phrase.
And then I was dropped, now
a mouse in a giant bathtub
and I couldn’t make my way out of
the dirtiest bathtub I’ve ever seen,
ever been in. You could wash yourself
for a year in that water and never
feel clean.
I never feel clean.
I had a dream the other night
It was quick-moving and jumpy
so be patient as I explain.
At first, I was in a forest – dark
and wandering alone looking for
someone to love, to find comfort
with.
Then I was crawling up vines,
Desperately scrambling might be
a better-suited phrase.
And then I was dropped, now
a mouse in a giant bathtub
and I couldn’t make my way out of
the dirtiest bathtub I’ve ever seen,
ever been in. You could wash yourself
for a year in that water and never
feel clean.
I never feel clean.
19-5-09 unnamed
19.5.09
Once a , always a.
That’s how the skeptical saying goes
and it’s not too far from the truth.
‘Cause cravings never go away.
It spends the night whispering in my ear,
convincing my mind of what it needs,
And in the day I can quiet the voice inside
a little but it’s still tugging at the corners
of my mind, trying to make a hole in
the web of protection it took me so long
to strengthen.
But I won’t moisten these lips with that.
I won’t poison my mind with that.
I won’t flush out everything I’ve built since then
with that.
Every mention of anything that can be semantically
linked has me licking my lips and trying to swallow
becomes almost as difficult as breathing. So I just
pretend that what I put to my lips has that secret
ingredient to drive away my pain but I know it’s
not the same. I just can’t decide if I’m relieved
or resentful. I’m certainly ashamed.
I haven’t changed that much.
I haven’t changed enough.
I’m still craving and it takes my
everything to not give in.
Once a , always a.
That’s how the skeptical saying goes
and it’s not too far from the truth.
‘Cause cravings never go away.
It spends the night whispering in my ear,
convincing my mind of what it needs,
And in the day I can quiet the voice inside
a little but it’s still tugging at the corners
of my mind, trying to make a hole in
the web of protection it took me so long
to strengthen.
But I won’t moisten these lips with that.
I won’t poison my mind with that.
I won’t flush out everything I’ve built since then
with that.
Every mention of anything that can be semantically
linked has me licking my lips and trying to swallow
becomes almost as difficult as breathing. So I just
pretend that what I put to my lips has that secret
ingredient to drive away my pain but I know it’s
not the same. I just can’t decide if I’m relieved
or resentful. I’m certainly ashamed.
I haven’t changed that much.
I haven’t changed enough.
I’m still craving and it takes my
everything to not give in.
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