Written from a hole. Cramped in a shell…I have to pour these words somewhere in order to create more room for chaos.
The numbness that is typically reserved for those deserving, has spread to others and without intention. A recognized need for self-care and mental and emotional attention is before me…but knowing the mud, blood, and filth that awaits in the journey of healing – combined with a deep falling in order to climb back up is not something to look forward to. But to climb out of this hole, and be able to look down into it…with the worms, dark secrets and pieces of self would be a major summit in a minor life.
The reclusiveness that is reserved for blunt trauma is upon me, as a cold wet blanket and as much as i want to talk and reach out, i want to be left alone to lay. In my walking coma. Amongst others. Smiling. The darkness that is growing that I try to kill with matches, burn my fingers. The soft scent of smoke comforts me as something familiar and finite. I want to get lost in music…in heavy bass-lines and mood-shifting chord progressions. No one has played the music I long to hear. No one has spoken the words i long to hear.
Written from a hole, deep in my sole. Cramped in a shell. I have poured words here. And now more chaos is here.
chewing unspoken speech
i digest my own crass words
facing my back words
i hear an applauding crowd when i close my eyes
all of them are me –
for not another soul has heard
nor have i shared a word for the fear of what could be
i tighten the lid on scattered thoughts and rarely lie in the deep
or pen the world that i create – and visit when sound asleep –
i am my own dam
my flow cannot run free….
for in my rivers roaming on
others will see the real me
so i chew unspoken speech
digest my own crass words
in life’s mirror i cannot see
instead i stand back words
someone touched me when i was dead.
and even though life had vacated, they ignited sensors
massaged the blood flow through these veins
nervously revived the nervous system to pain
death did not remain
my eyes slowly opened – felt like the first sight from birth canal
fingers twitched, skin itched from numbness dissipating….
and then there was the first breath – deep and slow…had a sensual feel
deep aches from scar tissues – my real scars rested on my soul
and that takes time to heal…
my head slowly turned – eyes rolled towards the one that cared enough to touch me…
a dead one
and just as assured as i was that life would go…
they got up and walked slow – my heart was beating fast but time slow
i felt my breath slow – life go slow…
death come slow…
as they made themselves more distant
death came instant
my eyelids did bid a farewell
the last sleep…
my lips uttered “please” ….
if only a touch from them would come
i would not have to rest, peace.
After all – she does hold your pain
the rain from your eyes water the sidewalk with your emotion
flowers bloom with pieces of you
hurt provokes cries from the soul that the body masks
the face masks
staring at many moons wondering how long will it last
…and after it all – she holds your sanity
thoughts line the inner-wall of your brain cavity until it cradles your gray
thoughts drive your actions – the words we don’t say
and after it is all said and done – she is standing there, waiting for the sign
the words you give her have sound but are void of meaning…
My overall disposition is judged by what has been seen / a moment in history, a dark evil scene / a young boy laid in a field with the blades of grass and pondered upon his death without strength to last / the trees were absent and without a shadow’s cast / he lie with sunbeams in his face squinting he laughed.
Laughed at the notion of having the emotion of a blade of grass / single upon thousands, numb blades of grass / the pain of life damaging the youthful boy’s path / he stared at the sky and asked “how long shall i last?” / broken heart, broken soul for this there is no cast / sweet death he thought would kill pain quiet and fast.
the day he divorced himself of feelings from her / the day he was touched by him….where was her? / was the day innocence lost in the battle for him / he prayed that the sun would forever dim….he cried that his life would forever dim.
broken heart, broken soul for this there is no cast / sweet death he thought would kill pain quiet and fast.