The Last Rose

I write this poem some months ago and actually posted it, but then quickly took it down when I realized I could do better for it. So I changed some things around, and I will say it relates to my current place in life in a way. When I say ‘last rose’ I mean the last good thing. The thing I woke up to live for, being gone or becoming unimportant. This is about how that can happen, and when I don’t know what to do to move on, I just want to give up.

This morning’s golden halo
Torched and withered my last rose
Insanity is getting bold
Such misery…I cannot cope

Tears are slipping down my throat
Disturbed shards of a broken soul
Blades and sorrow hold me close
Dreaming far, of dark and cold

Skinless, grotesque, predisposed
Self-destruction’s all I know
Embrace my inner Scorpio
I have a future to disown

I can’t fix the status quo
Life takes too long to let me go
My lies receive a second coat
Pretend to live knowing I won’t

Of Midnight

 

 

To expect my weak and common lies

For someone to talk me down

For someone to take and twist my knife

And bleed my dark intentions dry

 

Tell me about the hour clever thieves get away

When reckless bullets tragically stray

A bundle of suspicion crawls the floor

Tragic events seep from beneath these doors

 

It happens as no one’s up to care

Then, this veil of forgotten-ness begins to tear

The hours dwindle through a ruined light

Dazzled blues, the regretful hues of night

 

 

I love night; morning ruins the escape it gives doesn’t it? I also hint at how people can get away with things at night, referring to the crimes that happen in the late night hours (in my city at least).

 

 

In Dark, In Sleep

 

 

The dark, the blind and vulnerable

I am where subconscious urges roam

 

In fluid dreams; their disconnect

They speak of all things alien

 

In sleep, sorrowful memories

A fixed unease roots from the crease

 

My threaded thoughts fray unstrung

My secure world becomes undone

 

 

A simple one that started out apart of another poem I am working on. This section I thought was better on its own.

 

I Think I’ve Figured It Out.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy: that’s what I’ve been going through for the last nine or ten months, and last night something just clicked for me. So I wrote it out in my journal and I have a summary of it here….

Isn’t it crazy the way we justify what we do and think? Like fear. We rationalize our fears and try to bring them down to earth so that they make more sense, leading to justification. For example, my emotional response to social situations is anxiety. I rationalize my fear and anxiety by saying I am just not a people person, or that I don’t want or need to be around others. Or I get angry at those people and situations that affect the anxiety in an attempt to shift my failure from being 100% mine, to becoming everyone else’s fault (at least partially). After making such rationalizations, I then feel justified in avoiding social situations. So in other words, my avoidant behavior has been justified by the way I’ve rationalized my fear and anxiety. How do I change that?

 

Instead of insisting that people are scrutinizing everything I do, in order to diminish my anxiety I should rationalize that they are not worried about me and what I am doing. But in my attempts at diminishing my anxiety, in a way I seem to diminish my self worth also. Like, I’ll say others aren’t worried about me and I am the last thing on their minds, then I take that further and say to myself that I am unimportant and simply in everyone else’s way, diminishing my self worth.

 

So maybe the first thing I should rationalize with is by reminding myself that I am a stranger to others just as they are strangers to me. I don’t judge and scrutinize every little thing I see strangers do, so why would they do that to me? But I still feel self conscious about my very presence in social situations. As if I am wrong, even thought I am quiet and bother no one and disappear into the background. That will take longer to completely manage.   

I can’t control what my presence evokes in the minds of strangers. I know they don’t know me. I know I can’t change for everyone, and I must remember that they certainly won’t change for me.  

 

So does any of that make much sense? I know what I should be doing in order to manage my social anxiety. I must change my thought pattern. I’ve got to take more risks and practice this approach I’ve written about. I can’t run and avoid every situation that sets off anxiety for me. And I am tired of doing that. I accomplish nothing but short term relief from that anxiety, and long term isolation and depressive moods. I am just tired of it.

“Nothing”

Sort of how I’ve been feeling the last couple of days. It’s been hard trying to really get back into writing poetry, and write something I am really satisfied with. This is a start I guess. I think a lot about being nothing. It’s hard explaining exactly what I mean by that because it’s really more than what it sounds like.  

Irritated; ready to die
My tears hang on for dear life

Won’t my familiars admit the truth?
I am around without a use?
I shade in well, I disappear
In disturbed thoughts no one else hears
To be apart of nothingness…..
Between each breath and each second

Nothing is decided, nothing recognized
Where lives of all sorts are born to die
I’ll keep away. I will not leech
Isolation has a point I’ve reached
When talk turns a weak enemy
When those around refuse to see

As prayer, and bright hopeful dreams
Decide to mean nothing.

The Detriment

You know some people who believe they say and do everything that is ‘right’ and morally correct? The truth is, what is right and morally safe is different for everyone based on how they grew up and their own life experiences. If I am wrong, tell me, but this poem is sort of about that kind of mentality. those who think the surface is what tells the whole story when really the surface may be the biggest lie of all. And the notion that being ‘right’ means that no matter what, they are safer in some way than others who may disagree and live in a different way. I wrote this poem with the intention of just trying to fill a page with verse, whether or not it made sense. But it has a hidden story and it is meant for personal interpretation. This short explaination is just the outline of what I think has come together and is being expressed.

They charge me as the regrettable kill joy

The androgynous evil only here to destroy

I am the one to blame; the projection of their problems

I dare their lives to fall apart; their souls to breathe the grim

My shadows will creep into their world

Murder, in the shape of an innocent girl

They see her face and huge doll-like eyes

They grab her sweet hand; she leads them to die

 

But what am I? Concentrated melancholy

My despair falls blood red; my button eyes bleed

I don’t say the right thing, the right time, the right way

I’m not the one who acts as if my ills have been erased

They want me to give them grief and stir the social drama

They want a reason to demean, to dispel their bad karma

 

Anyway, who cares? My brain is sick and melting fast

I’m trying to cut me an escape from building on my past

They painted me a naturally, unfit piece

A thief of subtle undertones; I take the pain I need

My somber reserve, stigmatized, my filthy lies exposed

They preach my path to hell; I know they will soon follow

I choke on these optimists; the detriment’s not me

They screw the word and reason, but God is not deceived.