Something new….

I have been very withdrawn lately. Frustrated with people, and self-hating and bent on what to do about the storm in my head, thoughts that don’t know what to do with themselves. Anyway, I have been taking more photos, and writing a whole lot more than is normal for me. Writing about things that I usually stay away from because it was always hard for me to put very much feeling behind them. One thing that helps though is this list of questions I wrote down to ask myself everytime I want to write and get stuck on what I want to say. They are questions to help me twist the meaning and disguise the truth a bit better.

I wish I had more to say. Well, here are some new poems. One is called Spring, I started it months ago but just recently decided it was worth trying to finish (I suck at nature poems it seems…lol) The other one is something that came out of no where really. I was reading some Dorothy Parker poems and the structure of it is loosely based off her style. It has no title yet, but it’s about someone dreaming a terrible thing happened to someone they loved all because they never read into the signs the person gave them. I think about that a lot. People close to me being so blind to what’s right there, waiting and hoping they will see before it’s too late.

Spring

 

The sun has a new voice today

Fresh life within each brilliant ray

Soon, the grass will not be crushed

Beneath the frozen tears of

Gray winter’s monotony

It is of lush and green, we dream

Colors will soon have a scent

And textures will feels so exotic

We will all awake in spring

Nature’s kiss upon our cheek

————

 

Hear me, hear me

Crumbling

Ready for the fall

See me, see me

Tumbling

And do nothing at all

 

Bleeding, screaming

Ruining

My body’s broken through

Watching, you plead

“Forgive me”

It drains your living hue

 

Sullen, speaking

Riddling

I left a little clue

Fearful dreaming

Mindfully

Thinking of what I’ll do

 

Praying, heeding

Wondering

You cry a silent shame

Searching, seeing

Finally

Deciphering my pain

 

 

 

 

What does it mean?

I’m not sure, but I wrote this to get me thinking about life, what it means, and the difficulty in between every success and failure. Things we do and what we fear and how one thing leads to something else. A song inspired me to write this, and I couldn’t help but mention eveything that ran through my mind…lol.

 

I am purpose, the worship and religion

The reason you get up

The second chances you are given

The unfair and trickery

I am the grief and despair

The moments you realize when no one has to care

 

I am the frigid to the eye of a young

The pending witness

I am the accusation

The fall from grace, the lie, the pain

Fresh hate blown down the throats of the followers

The new born disability, the cigarette, the hearse

 

The truth, the evidence, the shame, the gray

The responsibility neither sheep

Nor leader will claim

I am the confrontation to your past memories

The strain, the peace and ruins of emotion,

Release

 

The family, the friends, the picture perfect end

The mend, I am the constant, the trials and hardship

I am the kiss of impending darkness

When goals and opportunity are heavily guarded

The drive and instinct, the survival, the dream

I am everything you live for

And die to be

 

To See The Graves

       Today I drove through Spring Grove cemetery again, this time with my mother who has never gone through the grounds. I swear, something about those massive, century old willow looking trees and how they hover over the graves, and the way the wind blows through the hills and lanes between each lot, and the sweet smell in the air at this cemetery mystifies me. There are graves there that go back more than a century and a half, the statues are so beautifully carved, they tell stories when you look at them long enough….Anyway, I just wish I’d known about this little trip we made before hand, so that I could bring my camera along once again. But still, it quiets my soul just enough with simply observing, and taking in the sites as we drove through the grounds for a few minutes. It was nice.

I took this picture the last time I went to this cemetery, almost a year ago I think. It was a really, sunny and humid day then, and this picture I decided not to edit because of the misty effect the lighting gave that day. I guess I just like how lonely it feels when I look at it. I have been reading old poetry from Longfellow and other older poets to get a better sense of how in the world they wrote so much. Sometimes I understand completely and other times I couldn’t be more confused about something they’ve written, but I think it’s good practice to try figuring it out. I really believe I need more activity in critical thinking, most things have just left me feeling helpless in the situation. I need to build up my ability to figure it out, not matter how bad it may seem at first. My body is just run down. The headaches are coming back it seems. Minor headaches about ever afternoon for the last week in a half, no idea why. Maybe it’s too much sugar….

I have been writing more, going back to things I abandoned months ago. I look at the books of complete works I have by Edgar Allan Poe, Sylvia Plath and Dorothy Parker and feel so amazed at how much they wrote during their lives. But one thing I notice is how one subject can be written about many many times, just in a different way, from a different perspective. Like Dorothy Parker has a lot of poems about love and relationships and points out the many components of relationships. She talks about what people wish for in those relationships and how things may or may not work out. This all may sound very obvious to everyone but for me, I’m seeing it all in a different light at the moment. I’m looking closely at how I consider the meaning, thought and intention behind what I write and how I write it.

Since I have been watching and getting sick from the amount of political coverage I have seen, I am going to try and write more about the social issues that bother me to no end, to get it off my chest in a better way. Some things don’t need to be the way they are in our society and I get very upset when realizing how little anything ever gets done. Things are far from perfect in this country and around the world, yet there are still people out there who seem satisfied with keeping things the way they are. Whether they are doing great in their lives and want to keep that going for themselves, or whether they simply don’t give a shit about other people having a hard time, they should not stop the rest of us from having progress in our lives and in our opportunities. I am tired of feeling held down. I didn’t ask to be here, but I am not going to let anyone else make me feel anymore undeserving of a chance to succeed than I make myself feel.

Sometimes this life is just too much to worry about, so I should just leave it alone before I upset my nerves. The last thing I need is a sleepless night.

 

Shadow

      I refer a lot to the shadow archetype in a good amount of poems I’ve written down, the way I understand it, as the dark side of who a person is. The darker side of their actions, the desires they would rather follow through with even if it is something they are aware is wrong. In this poem I just personify my shadow as being in a sort of love affair with me and what I want. I describe it in a way as tempting me to go beyond apprehension and act on what I am feeling, ignoring any doubts and hesitation. It’s a very odd thing I think, really, but if you read it closely, you’ll understand what I am talking about a little better, hopefully. I am the last person who will or should write about real romantic relationships, simply because I’ve never had one worth talking about, but I tried to write this from what I do know, trying to connect with a different kind of relationship that is hard sometimes for others to understand I guess. 

One tear

Wrung from the insincere

He comes close and whispers calmly in my ear

The soul of shadow caressing my neck

His devious therapy

Sensations of death

 

He grips me and treats me

To sorrows, to feeling

A healing of emotional devotion to the cause

Darkness entwines

All doubt withdraws

 

His eyes are love and lifeless

A seduction, promising me pain

Commanding my passions to follow his escape

I am the irrational, he is the urge

The quenching drink to satisfy this sable thirst

 

He is the edge, the provocative hush

The sweat between the seconds, the unwavering thrust

His warm lips; His sweet lacerating kiss

His severe encouragement…

The death would not resist.

  

 

 

More Painting and Writing, and A Bit of Crying

      I thought about giving blood donations today. As i looked in the news paper for no brainer jobs, I saw an ad for a blood drive. They can have my blood, hell, it’ll be of better use going to someone else who actually needs it. Anyway, my brother got be very upset yesterday over something so stupid. I turned the computer off before I went to bed, not knowing it was being used since the screen was blank. He sort of talked down on me for shutting it down. It’s not what I needed then and there but that’s what I got. I was already feeling as if I needed to cry, but couldn’t. Not until he made his stupid remarks to me. And it turns out I have some scratch marks on my shoulder from where I ran my nails. That’s a new one. Before this, I had scratched myself with no ill intent. It’s just a replacement for the “count to ten” suggestion. Only when I am very aggrevated, and with my nature I usually direct anger toward myself.

Alright, enough of the refection. I’ve still been writing, some of it is experimental. I’m talking more about other characters. Ones I relate to but who step away from me in different respects I guess. But those poems need a lot of work.  So instead, here are some new drawings. Well, the portrait is older but I had to fix it, and I just painted the rose a few days ago. I know the portrait looks odd and slanted, but in the photo I was looking at, the person is turning to the camera.  I tried.

 

Null and Void

This week was the first in a long time that I seriously thought about finding away out of this life. Not because I was sad and hopeless, and not because something bad is going on in the house. I thought about it because I am tired of feeling as if I am nothing, doing nothing, dreaming nothing, wanting and feeling nothing. The word ‘burden’ comes to mind a lot more often. But call me selfish, I’m writing more all in the sights of having a decently large collection of poems to my name before I die. It’s something right? Even if they all suck and are nothing but the same thing said a few different ways.

What’s it going to take to shock the life back into me? Have I become so useless that all I do is push myself aside always, and no longer even really want a chance? I seriously don’t get life; It’s just me sitting here, void of everything, waiting to die. It’s not right. Maybe I should be ashamed of myself and run with that for a while. And see what it moves me to do.
Here’s a short glimps of the fragmented thoughts in my head at the moment.

To smear the tear

And cling to fear

Live years and years

And simply sigh

 

I crack my neck

Write and forget

Become upset

And want to die

 

A statistic

To sign a list…

Blow life a kiss…

And no goodbyes

 

 A short sort of structure here, but honestly, it’s all I’ve got right now.  

 

Musings (poem)

This is another older poem. I think I wrote this a year ago and never let anyone read it. It really displays how sick I was mentally. How no one would stop believing the lies I told them and how close I really was to ending my life. I have to tell you it is scary at times to think about those memories. I ask myself how could I have gotten so terribly bad? How could I have thought about and done such things? Things happen for a reason though. I don’t feel the shame as deeply as I did. It does no good in blaming myself for feeling like I did and for being as sick as I was.

Shock and fear, imagining
My own created tragedy
The coldest red, my frozen eyes
Escaping lies, the fallen knife

Who would find out what I’ve done?
Unbearable, my darkest want
The souls I’d murder with this need…
Daydreams now streaming down my cheek

The truth behind my thoughts, I see
They will not stop believing me
Exhausted sighs to sacrifice
A faded, lost respect for life

My smiles are not innocent
I chant my plans, from how to when
Obsession savored, sorrow sweet
A hope to grip the death in sleep

I Still Remember

 

I love drawing eyes. This was fun to draw to be honest. I sat down and just started drawing freely until an idea stuck. It’s one of my favorite portraits now, of the ones I’ve drawn.

 

Drained- a bit low at the moment

 

    Pressure. I have to finish classes strong, look for a job or volunteer, decide if I will officially go off my medication or actually remain at the high dosage I started with (I think I need it more than ever at present….), all of this while watching my mother get ready to take a week long trip to visit my aunt in Atlanta.

 

I feel pathetic. My therapist gave me a questionnaire about self confidence and I think he’ll be disappointed to see how low it really is with me. You know, I’m seriously feeling pressure to do something about this sorry status I have. It’s as if I have to either get something moving, or just kill myself and get out of everyone’s way, and no longer be the disappointment they have to wonder about and eventually lose faith in completely.

 

I think of these things because I’ve gotten tired of being around with no purpose, and no drive to create one. I say so frequently now that it’s no one’s responsibility to keep me alive, and I will say now that I am tired of having that responsibility; I don’t want it either, just like no one else does.

 

 

I call this drawing “Drained”, trying to spark some creative thinking, that’s all this drawing is really about…..

 

 

SA-It Still Has a Tight Grip On Me

 

My discomfort with using the phone, I’ve noticed, has gotten worse. I don’t like to call strangers, or answer to strangers, or make appointments. If we didn’t have caller id, I doubt I would ever bother picking up the phone.

 

I feel as though my family thinks I am useless in a way, because I don’t have a social life, and because I still have not made any suggestions that would indicate I am even interested anymore in having or making friends.

 

I am disappointed with myself for not even trying to take the risks I know I should’ve taken in the past, and should take in the future. I constantly doubt my ability to do new things, even if I were to be taught how to do something.

 

It’s become a fact in my mind that I am very good at embarrassing myself, and even better at saying the wrong thing, at the wrong time, the wrong way.

 

To better explain how everything looks from my point of view, it’s as if I’m at the bottom of everything, and I am unable or unmotivated to balance myself and get anywhere in life. The future doesn’t feel as if it will be hopeless; its more of a fact now that I don’t think about altering, it simply is hopeless.

 

Things I’ll tell my therapist tomorrow……