To Sunset

A painting for my mother…

Went to a volunteer interview today. I’m actually very excited about the department I’ll be assigned (hopefully) a position. The collection and research part of this massive and extremely impressive museum in my city. It’s the perfect distraction from the nowhere my life is going and I’ll learn some new skills about something I’m interested in. Anyway, I won’t speak about everything else that’s been going on for fear of it falling apart before it even gets started….I’m trying to keep myself balanced. Don’t get too high on hope and don’t sink all the way just yet. And for that, I’m ready for whatever happens. If the door opens I’m going through it no matter what, and if not–well I’ve got a good fix for that too.

Birthdays….

Are Horrible. Even more so when people, family, have forgotten. But that wouldn’t matter so much if I weren’t around to know it. I just need to be put somewhere.

Get rid of this pain
Put my faith into something

Maybe these pills,
Then I’ll be alright

Or this knife;
Maybe then I’ll sleep tonight

Within this lonely place
I’ve been still with every lie

And as I sleep in dark escape
I’ll wake ready to die.

The Heart

This is something I painted a few weeks ago. I think it goes with this poem alright enough. It’s also the image I have as my blog header.

To Pieces

Soaked by the falling rain
The bottom of a shoe
Always in my face

The live body
The prison cell
Each heartbeat marks
The bars of hell

Release this fury –trace with knife
Along my throat, along my thigh
Those precious blood ways I outline
Tomorrow at the back of mind

Pull my arms and legs apart,
Peel away my veins
Nowhere am I beautiful
My bruised dead face

I dream the open window
My several stories high
I’ve opened everything up
I’ve eaten all my insides

I’m licking at each bone
I bite to pieces,
Here alone

I really don’t have much to say anymore about my life. I don’t see past a year from now. This doesn’t change. I think I’m going to give up looking for a job right now as I don’t even understand how I’m able to function during the day. There’s nothing keeping me together and to be honest I’m having brief moments where I’m all about the details in how to get rid of myself, they’re getting into my dreams again. Things are just so messed up. I should be seeing the good I’ve been given and try to make something of myself, but I can’t get past just not being able to care, just not wanting to be here in the first place. And I feel I’d be doing everyone a favor if I killed myself–sooner rather than later.

But you know already. It’s my same tired story

Quiet In the Dark

This is the painting I finished a week ago. I wanted to show something about what I hold onto. Everything that hurts basically. And like in the one before this, the person represents one greater than what I am now. What I could be, except in this one she’s with dark around the eyes and a black shape for a mouth representing silence. I didn’t plan this painting out too well, but I think that’s why I liked working on it so much. Even though I didn’t know where I was going with it, I worked in detail, so at least I can feel good about that.

I’ve written more than I have in months from my computer being out so many days. I’ll have some of that up soon hopefully. I’m trying my best not to fall apart as I look back on this past year, my birthday being around the corner and all. I didn’t want the circumstances to be the same, but I have not done enough on my part to deserve a change. And another years is just hard to think about right now.

Without

This is a painting I finished a month ago. It’s taken me that long to really understand what I even created, but I think I know now. This is a figure I take as representing the person I could be being taken down. Attacked, blinded by darkness, without arms representing a lack of control, and the white shape of the mouth represents how the words being spoken are always lost to the surrounding noise and confusion (explaining the white, red, sharp background). Otherwise, it’s just a weird and slightly creepy picture that really has nothing more to offer. I don’t know why I spend time painting anymore really. I don’t do it for money or for people to like me. But maybe it’s so that I can feel I have something to call my own right now. As useless and undeserving as I feel, that’s all I can say.

I wrote something to go along with this that I’ll post later, if I can get my computer to act right for once.

From the Rain

Based on another little sketch.

I don’t have much to say really. I’m doing okay. Drawing on my last piece of ply wood is taking up good time, distraction and all that. Oh, and I’ve had another chance to finish recording a song I wrote. With the way my house is, it’s hard to get time where its totally quiet. My recorder picks up everything.

This poem doesn’t have a title yet. I’m still writing a lot, I’m just going slow with editing. It’s like I write then throw it somewhere and have it sit for days, anyway…

The last I wished them goodnight
I’d been writing my goodbye

But somehow the lamp was thrown
And broke into its pieces

Nothing else is life except
Our grief in empty reasons

You are my only friend
Your hands stay tight around my neck

Kill me, I’ve been begging you
And you’re trying your best

Real beyond my trepidation
You have my grave here in this dark

In your soul, your airlessness
At the end of all my lives

Skull

After three days I finally finished it. It’s painted on a $4 piece of ply wood that was almost flat…anyway, I like how it turned out. I have another piece of wood left and I need a better idea as to what I could try. Hopefully it’ll come to me.

My mind is in pieces but I am still trying to volunteer. Every time I let the thought that something will actually go right creep into my head, it falls through. Seriously though, where do I go from here? I can’t find work, and in this stupid ass city of all places, hospitals left and right knowing they need help, no one contacts me about my volunteer applications, or they do and everything has to be delayed for some shit reason.

And the people here? I want nothing to do with. If another person steps to me in the wrong way, I swear to God… It’s as if this whole city is waiting for someone to snap. It takes all my will these days not to bitch slap everyone that opens their mouth to me. I tell my mother it’s depression, that I’m doing my best, this is just how it is without medication to numb my emotions and block my thoughts. She still seems to think it’s not as serious as it is, that all I need to do is get out of the house more often. That’s true, but I’m sure she wouldn’t be talking to me as if that’s all I need to do if she were to see the latest injury on my arm. I know it’ll leave a nasty scar (had no caution, didn’t even care exactly where it was placed, I just did it).

Yeah, I’m in pieces. Back to having no patience with people, random tears, and contemplating a plan to get out. I feel bad. My birthday is in less than a month. Just thinking about that… I don’t know why it makes me feel so down.

The Faces

 

A random painting based on sketches I did some weeks ago.

I tip-toe the sharpened edge

Stay away,
You can’t be responsible for this
These open wide cries
This splitting of my wrists

I’m standing at the end
I tip-toe the sharpened edge
May this reckless air be blessed
My higher soul I do not stress
On I press, so limited
It’s all that I can do
The risk I carve right through
To give myself little more room

To linger as a wound
Slit of pattern-less time
Sorted fast out of line
As the blood begins to dry

Just wanted to post the painting I did that goes with this poem. Below is a skull drawing I’m beginning. If I can get my head clear long enough to paint it, I’ll have that up this weekend probably.

I’ve stolen another razor. The little pieces of sharp metal my mother uses in her sewing machines. I feel so low about it. Wondering to myself why steal razors when I have a knife all my own? Razors just hurt a little more, that’s why. That’s all.

I want out.

Skull thrown
Against a wooden wall

Nails tap the mirror then-
Shards

Thank you.
Now look away.

So alone it hurts.

 

The stitches I pull open
Bone, tainted by the breeze
Moments infected pass with ease
They say ‘I know it hurts but breathe’

My darkened spirit sounds the trill
Another self I’ve got to kill
Pray tell; it’s a quick two or three
I bleed–the panic quells to peace

Between the breath and beating
I say I need no more
Now dazed, half awakened
And watching my blood pour

I protect them from their fear
The nightmare swimming in this mirror
I feel my angel turn away…
This time, the end,
Be near

 

I’m going back to what I usually do. Post my art and crappy poems and leave it at that. My personal life sucks and is not interesting and hearing me bitch about it is a huge waste of time. I’m eventually going to kill myself anyway. It stays with me and pulls me toward it; One day I’m going to get there.