You put us here
And we speak for you
We all infect your silence
We all want you to survive
Just focus, don’t you feel again?
It’s not time to apologize
As your thoughts fall over themselves
We let hope believe it has a chance
Sometimes there’s a way you stare us down
In fear as if we aren’t your own
In fear of just how much we’ve grown and
With us, you fear you’re further alone
Remember, we are all you have to trust
There is no one else who will listen
Or agree with you when you need control
Or lie that your best act is letting go
And be sure, you must never let us show
You must never let those other whispers know…
A recent painting, inspired by a line in a favorite song–just something I’d wanted to make sure I finished. The poem is months old, part of a bunch I’ve already lost faith in. What I’m writing now is actually scaring me for the simple fact it’s so much. None of them can really be called “poems” though, they’re too wordy and long and I’m failing miserably at this too aren’t I…
2030 Calories on the bike this morning. Enough said. I got to the doctor Tuesday.
Caught at a very bad time
End of another day, this world is in chaos
And no one is by my side
And though I’m unfamiliar, I did not run or hide
I assumed you would excuse this and give me another chance
But waiting is useless, you refuse to understand
Turning the light cold, you start tearing at the fold of
A will that has already folded
It’s what you are, it’s all you do
Speak loud and outrageously, cut everyone else down
And still, as always, no one wants you around
And just look at me now
It’s a constant try keeping a wisp of my own soul
A tiny piece that has yet to escape me
I am like all the rest…full on emptiness
My faith now a lone fray of string
And I would pray to be broken just for this bleed
I recognized your cold light and my ending was told
The moment you said no, I gave up on blame and I let go
It’s all I am, it’s all I do
The wait and sigh—the hidden cry
Dying for a truth
A Photo I took more than a year ago. Poem also about a year old; it’s taken me this long to feel okay with the memory of where it comes from, but hey- I got there. It’s over with and so am I for the most part.
You want me gone
You want for my sinful ways to send me on
To that place you pray afraid of
As my faith is not real enough
The fire I would love to see
If only I believed
To live by their lines of truth in lies
Tell me, just who’s been promising?
I don’t touch what has been given, I have always known
You are the unbearable cold; still, no one lets you go
Them and their wide open eyes
So full, so sure in his blessed light
You hold on tightly to this life
But wiser shadows rise
Close behind though you try to outrun
But the end of forever has already won
Believe you are more than you are all you want
Our dying has long begun
New painting – completed about a week ago. I went looking in my sketch book again and came up with three new drawings I’m just now wrapping up. This one reminds me of “Crazed” but with a different meaning. With the extreme way I’ve been pushing myself with exercising and the fasting and seeing how much I can take, it always seems there is a part within that is lit when I willingly challenge myself and push my limits. So, that’s what this painting represents: awareness, self-discipline, sacrifice, and being driven toward something.
The poem is older, one I just never shared before, but thought it wouldn’t hurt to now. It’s no good but the new writing material is going so much better. I’ve resumed studying symbolism and mythology and the time away has allowed for better ideas overall to work with.
Right Back to Low
The noise I’d smother
Body I’d bury in the ground
To be no longer tormented by you and your sound
You don’t hear me out here in the dark
But it sees what you have done to me for being who you are
And scar after scar – it sees and knows how far I am from far
Desperately, I seek the peace from my dreams of end
Please never again have me witness
Another non-sustaining high
Then back to my place so fallen
Right back to the low I’d have rather always been.
A new painting I finished last week, based on a larger drawing I down sized to get a better grip on. I’m a little excited about the new writing ideas I’m working on now. I only hope what results is a better voice – something richer / sharper in a way. It’s never easy explaining some of the strange feelings and images that drift in mind, but I’m really trying to grasp them more tightly this time around. If nothing else, it’s passing my days well enough. I still keep to my exercise schedule and sleep schedule and eating schedule, so adding more hours to writing is a nice change – especially when I actually have something to say.
What Are You?
Just a sliver
So who else needs to know?
Nothing from this world broke my fall
Who else saw then decided don’t believe?
They would never think to brace their soul
Not for my screams,
Not for their own
Overwhelmed by all the death life needs
What are you, to not wither in fear?
When you hear of the murders every one of us will see
And not wince at a thought of our agony
After we’ve had to wait; after we’ve had to lose it all
After we’ve had to die beneath these ruined walls
Admit we don’t care for the faceless and lost
After and worthless for everything we cost
The painting is recent. I worked on it with great frustration – was a really bad week at the time and on top of it I had no idea where I was taking this image. Looking at it now I’m reminded of the words “lashing out” for the anger and irritation if comes from. And the poem just reflects one of those really off days where people and human nature and the unwillingness some have of putting themselves in another’s shoes creates a mess of thoughts and sick feeling. So I just wrote.
To this day I don’t consider myself as one with any skill or honest ability here. I write but nothing is good enough to me- there’s never enough color or direction. I draw and paint, but I still feel like a fool trying something she shouldn’t try. A silly beginner with limits still boxing her in tight. So, what am I? When I feel terrible being told I’m “good” at something – I don’t allow myself to see it. That’s too kind. I realize what drives me further is seeing how much of the bad I can take. How far I can take the self-deprivation and endure the pain. Reaching too far, meeting that and still going further. Something about that appeals to me greatly. I’m self-destructive and like knowing I’m doing damage. It’s all my own and for all the constructive projects I try and channel my thoughts and feelings through – it’s the destruction I can’t turn away from.
Maybe I hope from the complete ruin will come something better and stronger, more lasting…Or maybe I only want a way out of my skin. A permanent way out of my sick mind and this sick world. Who really knows. Doesn’t matter any how.