To live in a clinical depression
Is to be entrenched in the midst
Of the polarizing opinions between
Two sides of self.
Today is going to be a good day.
Today is going to be the day that you die.
Today is the day I will feel handsome again.
Today every mirror cracks in the ugly wake of your path.
Today is the day I won't feel like I need to swallow a pill to function.
Today, you will swallow every pill that you own.
Incongruent thought processes cross perpendicular into mental crucifix.
Nail the ego here.
It is not fit to play the role of decision maker right now.
It is only bystander.
It will later be held hostage to the hostile syllables
Held at bay by the serotonin inhibitors you use
To sew your mouth shut in verbal ransom
This is the arrangement between the diseased brain
and the strained vocal cords.
Look closely.
Can you see the words crawling underneath your cheeks.
As the disease spreads, you will delude yourself
Into believing that the lack of oxygen
And forced isolation
Will give you ascetic clarification
Into how clearly obscure the world is in its design.
You live by the impaired logic of umbral understanding:
If nothing is knowable, then nothing is manageable.
If the mind is a beast, then the nature of the beast is to grow with neglect.
If I break my hands, then I won't hurt myself again.
This is wrong.
This is comfort.
This is dangerous.
This is comfort.
This will kill you.
This is comfort.
This is wrong.
This is so much easier than doing what is right.
It is comforting to relinquish one's self into the hollow rites of depression.
It is wrong.
Today is gone and it wasn't your day.
But tomorrow is a new day altogether.
Tomorrow is going to be a good day.
Tomorrow I am going to feel handsome again.
Tomorrow I won't feel like I need to swallow a pill to function.
Your ego watches from on the cross.
It is no longer bystander.
It is hostage
To hostile
Syllables.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Polaris
If fucking for virginity is like waging war for peace
Then every war ever fought was caused
By a breakdown
In communication.
Every crush I've ever had was caused by
A breakdown in communication
Between head, heart, and soul.
The head says love the one whose opinions contradict yours.
You will never have a boring conversation.
So as someone who worships Kurt Cobain.
I sought out someone who worshiped Axl Rose.
They were fucking psycho.
The heart says love the one who can workout your body in ways
It has never been worked out before.
Calm down, this sin't going where you think it is.
Love someone who makes you want to do nothing
but 10,000 push-ups a day to exhaust every ounce
of energy you have until you have no choice but to
Relax.
Relax - hold on softly.
The soul says love someone who makes you feel closer to God.
I dated a Satanist thinking that one man's devil is another man's God.
Sometimes, the only lesson you get out of a relationship is to get out
of the relationship.
Run quickly in the opposite direction.
Do not stop to look at the blood stains.
Regardless on how these three bicker and argue and contradict one another.
They can always agree on one thing.
Don't listen to the guy between your legs.
He doesn't know how to love anyone.
He is just a fucking dick.
Then every war ever fought was caused
By a breakdown
In communication.
Every crush I've ever had was caused by
A breakdown in communication
Between head, heart, and soul.
The head says love the one whose opinions contradict yours.
You will never have a boring conversation.
So as someone who worships Kurt Cobain.
I sought out someone who worshiped Axl Rose.
They were fucking psycho.
The heart says love the one who can workout your body in ways
It has never been worked out before.
Calm down, this sin't going where you think it is.
Love someone who makes you want to do nothing
but 10,000 push-ups a day to exhaust every ounce
of energy you have until you have no choice but to
Relax.
Relax - hold on softly.
The soul says love someone who makes you feel closer to God.
I dated a Satanist thinking that one man's devil is another man's God.
Sometimes, the only lesson you get out of a relationship is to get out
of the relationship.
Run quickly in the opposite direction.
Do not stop to look at the blood stains.
Regardless on how these three bicker and argue and contradict one another.
They can always agree on one thing.
Don't listen to the guy between your legs.
He doesn't know how to love anyone.
He is just a fucking dick.
The Therapist
The first time I went to the therapist
She told me that the winter is in my bones
Like the summer is in my skin
She said the technical term for this
Is negative emotionality
She said, you can combat the darkness with lights.
No, really, buy these lamp bulbs and stare into them
for half an hour a day and see if it makes you feel
any better.
I looked at her with the straightest face
My gay body could muster
And asked her
"Do I look like a fucking moth to you?"
She said, it depends, do you often dream cocoon?
I said, yes.
She said, do you understand?
I said, no.
She said, that's the first step.
I told her moths couldn't talk.
She said they can't be smug either.
Fair enough I said.
Fair enough.
I laughed as much as my gravity would allow
Without snapping my vocal cords back to
where the darkness lives.
I asked her, what do you dream about?
She said, I often dream web.
I asked if that made her a spider.
She said yes, in the least predatory sense.
If that's possible.
I digress.
I asked her, what's it like to dream web?
She waited, gathered her breath, and said with as much wisdom as possible:
Your time is up.
Maybe I'll tell you in our next session.
Fair enough I said.
Fair enough.
She told me that the winter is in my bones
Like the summer is in my skin
She said the technical term for this
Is negative emotionality
She said, you can combat the darkness with lights.
No, really, buy these lamp bulbs and stare into them
for half an hour a day and see if it makes you feel
any better.
I looked at her with the straightest face
My gay body could muster
And asked her
"Do I look like a fucking moth to you?"
She said, it depends, do you often dream cocoon?
I said, yes.
She said, do you understand?
I said, no.
She said, that's the first step.
I told her moths couldn't talk.
She said they can't be smug either.
Fair enough I said.
Fair enough.
I laughed as much as my gravity would allow
Without snapping my vocal cords back to
where the darkness lives.
I asked her, what do you dream about?
She said, I often dream web.
I asked if that made her a spider.
She said yes, in the least predatory sense.
If that's possible.
I digress.
I asked her, what's it like to dream web?
She waited, gathered her breath, and said with as much wisdom as possible:
Your time is up.
Maybe I'll tell you in our next session.
Fair enough I said.
Fair enough.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Hiraeth
I have lost it
I am looking for it
in all the old places
At the concerts
At the poetry readings
At the end of a book
At the bottom of a bottle
of cheap vodka
This form no longer fits its function
It aches to pupate from this strange shell
It aches to return home
To recharge
To replenish
To renew
The altered anatomy
But home has never been a corporeal place
Though everyone tells me
That home is church
Or friend
Or lover
Or heart
It has always been a glacial ghost
Grasping at me with phantom phalange
I will slip its fingers into mine
We will go home together
Put the ghost of hiraeth to rest
Melt the ice surrounding him
Poltergeist becomes guardian spirit
Spirit becomes soul
Soul becomes whole
Whole is home.
Whole is home.
I am looking for it
in all the old places
At the concerts
At the poetry readings
At the end of a book
At the bottom of a bottle
of cheap vodka
This form no longer fits its function
It aches to pupate from this strange shell
It aches to return home
To recharge
To replenish
To renew
The altered anatomy
But home has never been a corporeal place
Though everyone tells me
That home is church
Or friend
Or lover
Or heart
It has always been a glacial ghost
Grasping at me with phantom phalange
I will slip its fingers into mine
We will go home together
Put the ghost of hiraeth to rest
Melt the ice surrounding him
Poltergeist becomes guardian spirit
Spirit becomes soul
Soul becomes whole
Whole is home.
Whole is home.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Resonation
I've been resonating a lot with deserts lately
In particular the way the wind kicks up the sand
And the sunlight coruscates off the crystals to form
expectant images -- mirages
I have been walking around with mirages in my head
I can't help it.
The void created by the gravity of your absence was begging to
become a starlight dream projecting movie screen
My brain projected late night showings of the mirages floating around in my head
Bestseller is the day we got stoned and watched Bruno
Didn't say a word at all
But it was perfect
At least in my limited understanding of the word
The night before
We sat in your car before your 20 mile drive home
I can still smell the gasoline
And hear the way your wheels growled against the road
I knew then
As we were separated by exhaust pipes and asphalt
That highways are concrete examples of this abstract idea
of longing going towards a place you know is out there
Some where
And the anticipation of getting there
And hoping the destination isn't just a mirage
Hoping that the sun goes down so the light can't play tricks
On your mind
One day
Three weeks after I never saw you again
I was walking to my car
I looked at the sky and saw the moon so full
I thought she was threatening to break like a fever in her starcloud blanket
You know I wonder as she sits surrounded by her cold halo
If some lunar anxiety ever whispers in her dreams that this is the last
Time she will remain whole
You will wax
You will wane
You will tiptoe with the tide
And toss with the wind
But you will never standalone in solitary beauty
I turned away
No piece of rock will ever know my name
I sit in my room
Staring out the window
There's a singular pleasure I get
From looking at nothing
Like for 10 minutes I exist outside of this constant current
Of time and demand
And I wonder if that's where I went wrong
The day after you left
I told you I was leaving first
You said you didn't understand
And I said
It's the nature of the beast to grow with neglect
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder
But in this case mine festered
I knew what I deserved
But wasn't fully committed
When I said I had to go
Your pride perked up
Told you that you would never suffer the reality of someone
Walking out on you
You were too accustomed to things being the other way around
So when I said goodbye
I was hoping you'd hear me begging for a door
But you opened up a window
And told me to jump
Now my bones ache
And I can feel the pain of you in my free time
This must be the closure everyone keeps talking about
In particular the way the wind kicks up the sand
And the sunlight coruscates off the crystals to form
expectant images -- mirages
I have been walking around with mirages in my head
I can't help it.
The void created by the gravity of your absence was begging to
become a starlight dream projecting movie screen
My brain projected late night showings of the mirages floating around in my head
Bestseller is the day we got stoned and watched Bruno
Didn't say a word at all
But it was perfect
At least in my limited understanding of the word
The night before
We sat in your car before your 20 mile drive home
I can still smell the gasoline
And hear the way your wheels growled against the road
I knew then
As we were separated by exhaust pipes and asphalt
That highways are concrete examples of this abstract idea
of longing going towards a place you know is out there
Some where
And the anticipation of getting there
And hoping the destination isn't just a mirage
Hoping that the sun goes down so the light can't play tricks
On your mind
One day
Three weeks after I never saw you again
I was walking to my car
I looked at the sky and saw the moon so full
I thought she was threatening to break like a fever in her starcloud blanket
You know I wonder as she sits surrounded by her cold halo
If some lunar anxiety ever whispers in her dreams that this is the last
Time she will remain whole
You will wax
You will wane
You will tiptoe with the tide
And toss with the wind
But you will never standalone in solitary beauty
I turned away
No piece of rock will ever know my name
I sit in my room
Staring out the window
There's a singular pleasure I get
From looking at nothing
Like for 10 minutes I exist outside of this constant current
Of time and demand
And I wonder if that's where I went wrong
The day after you left
I told you I was leaving first
You said you didn't understand
And I said
It's the nature of the beast to grow with neglect
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder
But in this case mine festered
I knew what I deserved
But wasn't fully committed
When I said I had to go
Your pride perked up
Told you that you would never suffer the reality of someone
Walking out on you
You were too accustomed to things being the other way around
So when I said goodbye
I was hoping you'd hear me begging for a door
But you opened up a window
And told me to jump
Now my bones ache
And I can feel the pain of you in my free time
This must be the closure everyone keeps talking about
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Heaven
I am so overrun run with faults and flaws
That gather particulate and granular in the
grooves and crevices that form the network
of my reasoning
Live life by the rationale of bastard's logic:
If love is your intention then you will never leave
If you never leave then everything will naturally fall into correction
If everything naturally falls into correction you then will be happy without
ever having to talk about anything or explain that you trace your history
of expectant love to the very first time your father left and
didn't come back for a few days
When I met you it was just an exercise in what I thought I already knew
Sometimes great things just fall into your lap and you have to accept it graciously
So I accepted you graciously poised in the position of forever
Fed by your belief that we could be forever
Bolstered by my desperate desire for that to be true
It was indulgent
It was a train-wreck
It was a self-fulilling prophecy turned cycle
Dance the dance of fixation
Feet too flawed to realize they could stop
Vision too flawed to recognize
There is something better than the fulfilled anticipation
Of perpetually being put back together again
Always vigilantly aware
That any day could be a day that you were gone
Is this an instance of the infinite
If we don't talk today - will we never talk again
If we don't see each other today - well we never see each other again
Are you gone for an instant, or for infinity?
The seed of anxiety was your fault
But me being such fertile ground was my flaw
I used to know how to swim until I met you
Now, whenever the tide comes in
And I'm pulled under
All I want is to lay still
In the mud of the seabed and
The purification of the saline sheets
Either I forgot how to swim
Or I just got tired of kicking
Or maybe I just empathized with the sharks
Who need something to bleed to feel sustained
You told me you believed in God
For about as long as I had decided that I had given up on him
You believed in perfection
After I had long since told myself that inadequacy was the norm
So I latched on to the notches of your Bible belt
Hoping your immaculateness would rub off on me
Even long after well meaning friends told me
That this was bad for me
But who has ever heeded the advice of the intensity of thunder
As guidance against the stringent stroke of the storm
No surprise when the white hot God-lance seared right through me
An alliterative assault breaking brain bolstered bastard beliefs
completely circumventing circuits created as conduits for an incomplete infatuation
I told you I had given up on the idea of God
But I had never given up on the idea of heaven
Particularly because I know hell exists
Life keeps trying to put out the flames on my doorstep
I still believe in heaven
But heaven for me is not gate or river or tree or life or salvation
For me
Heaven is where the flaws that keep us apart don't matter
That gather particulate and granular in the
grooves and crevices that form the network
of my reasoning
Live life by the rationale of bastard's logic:
If love is your intention then you will never leave
If you never leave then everything will naturally fall into correction
If everything naturally falls into correction you then will be happy without
ever having to talk about anything or explain that you trace your history
of expectant love to the very first time your father left and
didn't come back for a few days
When I met you it was just an exercise in what I thought I already knew
Sometimes great things just fall into your lap and you have to accept it graciously
So I accepted you graciously poised in the position of forever
Fed by your belief that we could be forever
Bolstered by my desperate desire for that to be true
It was indulgent
It was a train-wreck
It was a self-fulilling prophecy turned cycle
Dance the dance of fixation
Feet too flawed to realize they could stop
Vision too flawed to recognize
There is something better than the fulfilled anticipation
Of perpetually being put back together again
Always vigilantly aware
That any day could be a day that you were gone
Is this an instance of the infinite
If we don't talk today - will we never talk again
If we don't see each other today - well we never see each other again
Are you gone for an instant, or for infinity?
The seed of anxiety was your fault
But me being such fertile ground was my flaw
I used to know how to swim until I met you
Now, whenever the tide comes in
And I'm pulled under
All I want is to lay still
In the mud of the seabed and
The purification of the saline sheets
Either I forgot how to swim
Or I just got tired of kicking
Or maybe I just empathized with the sharks
Who need something to bleed to feel sustained
You told me you believed in God
For about as long as I had decided that I had given up on him
You believed in perfection
After I had long since told myself that inadequacy was the norm
So I latched on to the notches of your Bible belt
Hoping your immaculateness would rub off on me
Even long after well meaning friends told me
That this was bad for me
But who has ever heeded the advice of the intensity of thunder
As guidance against the stringent stroke of the storm
No surprise when the white hot God-lance seared right through me
An alliterative assault breaking brain bolstered bastard beliefs
completely circumventing circuits created as conduits for an incomplete infatuation
I told you I had given up on the idea of God
But I had never given up on the idea of heaven
Particularly because I know hell exists
Life keeps trying to put out the flames on my doorstep
I still believe in heaven
But heaven for me is not gate or river or tree or life or salvation
For me
Heaven is where the flaws that keep us apart don't matter
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Excavation
When they tell you to leave someone bad for you, they don't fail to tell you about the newfound freedom and affirmation you feel after the fact.
They will tell you that every day you stay is an admission on your part that you deserve everything that they put you through.
They tell you that at some point you have to get fed up with exalting the tragedy - if every moment feels like a visitation right then the only thing under custody is your dignity.
They will tell you that every day you stay is an admission on your part that you deserve everything that they put you through.
They tell you that at some point you have to get fed up with exalting the tragedy - if every moment feels like a visitation right then the only thing under custody is your dignity.
They don't tell you about the dreams.
They don't tell you about the anxiety.
They don't tell you that every day after the deconstruction
Will be a day you crawl out of.
You will try to stay busy, every second of idle activity turns into a period of mourning that claws into the obligations you have set forth to keep your mind off the healing process.
Dull the senses - feel no regret.
Dull the senses - see no memories.
Dull the senses - speak no words of retraction.
Dull the senses - hear not the gaping yawn of the void.
Dull the senses - taste not the loneliness on your tongue
You can easily fall in love with the lifestyle of loss.
If you listen to punk rock loud enough you can't hear the sound of your own feelings.
Stay in the company of people who know your heart.
They will remind you of yourself before it all went to dust.
Shake the dust - waiting is not living
Shake the dust - rust is not experience
Shake the dust - not every love is eternal
Shake the dust off the excavation site of your bones.
Whoever does not recognize the gold they have struck in the vein of your heart does not have the right to call you mine.
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