It’s not moving fast enough
This patch of noise has a swagger of…
Blues in a sticky view
A dying mint sweet
Death to joy, I remember…
A love I’d never need
This loosened grasp of memories
Of strength most unconvincing
I don’t know what happened back then,
And don’t care what’s happened since
There is ice in my blood
A pure indifference, all is numb within
—
Work/orientation begins Monday at 7:45am. My mother’s helping me with my wardrobe (much appreciated). And….I’m not acknowledging my brothers presence as of Thanksgiving day. They came at me wrong and I am writing them off.
I don’t need anymore people in my life, let alone people who don’t and haven’t ever considered me and what I am.
It’s time I cut everyone out really. They’re no good for me, and vice versa…not with everything that’s happened. It can’t be the same.
I want to give up. I don’t think I can talk about this anymore because it makes me sick. So I won’t say a word about these thoughts until I’m ready to do something about them. And I doubt that’s ever again going to mean therapy or medication.
I’m alone when I shouldn’t be. I’ve made all the friends I’ll ever make and they’ve all gone now and I’m incapable of making new ones…lol. People don’t stick around when it gets rough anyway, so screw them all. I don’t want to hear about others and all their friends anymore. At least they have people who aren’t family willing to put up with their existence. We all can’t be that fortunate.
Would rather just not be here to see another face. I got what I wanted. I feel apart. All there’s left now is to dissolve completely.
Conclude
The heat is moved
A village-taken out
You see how well things never work?
How weak we are in doubt?
We’re no safer in the light
Than when in dark and blind
The wrong will always cheat to win
Just wait, give it some time
You see, they let her climb this tree
They let her drop that rope
They’ll hold me here for years and years
Until I’m who lets go
Btw, I can’t stop listening to “Paper Planes” from M.I.A. I finally bought the album last weekend and I’m loving the music. Oh, “World Town” is another one, has a sick beat…
I have some new pieces of writing I’m actually excited about. I wish I could feel like this all the time, where ideas feel closer at hand and it’s not as if I’m stuck or empty of thoughts and creativity. Anyway, the first short poem below is about the disappointment I’ve felt I am to my mother…
You didn’t know.
I buried my wings long ago.
Your unexpected,
Over blessed baby girl
You should have let me die
I’m not getting this thing right
Now pieces of a painful break
These days shrinking my lungs
Sameness always in front
My cheaply glues illusion
All I owe bleeds the night to
One guilt imposing sun rise
I’m sorry when you hug me
I am numb from skin to soul
All these years have never been.
And I’ve nothing to show.
The second one here probably explains itself, being more about the way others close to you tend to brush aside what they see and hear and not take it seriously when they probably should. And about how what they do finally realize about you messing up their world, you becoming their new frustration…But even that interpretation comes weeks after I actually finished it, so take it however you want.
For the Truth
I don’t regret this
Broken stare, and
I won’t forget,
I taste them tearing open
Appalled at my whole life
Those feel of words that flash across your eye
They say to think I’m wrong is right
But still you want into my mind
Yet you’re so scared to see
The changing shades within the haze
You still cannot believe just how
Sick my world is leaning
And as any other fool, not knowing what they do
My darkened presence you’ve excused as weightless
Consuming so few; a spell of common sorrow
—don’t we all go through?
With my fresh wounds
Bright above their blue
Be free and hate me
Better for the truth
I’ve finally found the piano solo version of Breathe No More by Evanescence. Click on it below, turn your speakers up and forget the visuals, just listen to how beautiful this song is and tell me I’m not crazy for being such a fan….lol.
I’m coasting along. Incredibly empty. I haven’t gotten sleep. No one’s listening to me.
Puts me back into my past, in school, with a mind right in between snapping on everyone around me or running away somewhere expecting death to meet me at whichever direction.
People talk a lot and wish and pray, but it never feels real when it actually happens. When what you’ve been asking for happens….No body is going to be after me or hoping for me and my future if I’m not.
Whatever…
My brother’s idiot behavior got his car stolen last night…As my mother says, that’s “life in the big city…”
I hate the players and I hate the game. There’s people actually believing the 2012 hype and all I can say is it seems too good to be true. The end of the world, so soon? Yeah, too good–that’s how you know it’s not going to happen…lol.
But I do still hope I’m wrong.
How Long Ago
Run the music, run the words
Calculate my end
My simple complication
Just as silent, just as dead
To live with scattered memory
And bring nothing to close
Fragrant of both failure and loss
To live sorry, to grieve their cost
There are many among us
I am one to get rid of,
When all is cold and without hope
To talk me away from
I’ve seen the limbs, I’ve passed the bridge
I dream the cliffs of high
And no one asks that I save myself
How long ago I’ve died
Pieces of voice and vision
I’m a decorated lie
Shut me out forever
I am the other side
Its see through skin is so cheap
Of hollow promise and belief
Nothing about this keeps me
They are never as alone,
It’s not worth my questions and
Never worth the pain
But I still hurt and hold you high
And bleed you all the same
While dreaming bits of a third eye
From window’s veil of dying light
This going glow- as each scar line
Is softly swept aside
When the art suffers and there are no words to express, or even thoughts/feelings to need words to express…I think I’m done. I don’t want words or paint because I’m useless to them. I don’t know what to do with these things anymore. I’ve done all I can do. It’s all trash, from here on.
It’s placed at the end of eternity
But the fearful ones try anyway
A faithful reaching done in vain
Their lives that could be, grossly hang
From this old sage, the ancient tree
Thriving ludicrous philosophies
The marked fools are all in line
Dream-full, in their prime and picked to die
I am a distant witness
My excitement keeps me kind
For what each breath may, or not, mean
They still will not ask why, and
I hear the moonlight weep
For all those bodies squashed beneath
The hollow voices of ripened souls
Down this devil’s throat
One of those days I understand too well why I have no friends.
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.
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.
Posted in poems with tags Art, poems, poetry on October 2, 2009 by imaginaryfears
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
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.
