It never hurts less. It never "goes away" faster.
The gnawing knot burning in the bowels of the belly
Is that where the heart has fallen? The heat of the unrequited effort
a molten lava organ
searing its way down to the epicenter
of the soul
the stomach sickness
the churning and twisting
the absolute agony
of every memory
every sweet word
every cherished fingertip graze
half-smile
soft snore
cute quirk
all are sharp echoes
stabbing
and
stabbing
and
jesus christ am i bleeding
it never gets easier. familiarity does not bring speed to healing.
the emptiness a hollow of a wound deep and dark with no suture available
or even capable
the gaping pit heaving and undulating, whimpering and whining
crying and spitting
and hands grasp the outer folds
trying to bring it shut
clasp it together
self-soothing
tears in the darkness
while scrambling for anything
to seal the cavernous
maw of pain
so indescribable
fading in and out
how pretty the haze
it helps
remembering when
remembering when
remembering when
head on the lap
a quiet afternoon
the swell of new love
the surety
this is it
we were lost
we have been found
we are everything.
late movies,
staying in bed
curling bodies
big spoon little spoon
face to face
interlocking
unyielding closeness
the screaming and ripping torment of sentimentality brings everything into focus immediately.
but had it stayed that way...
had it stayed that way.
this is not new, but i wish it was.
i could fool myself into thinking
"it will be over soon."
Tag: sadness
Minnie Sans Moskowitz
The faint,
niggling itch
which began
at the root
of my
subconscious desires
wriggled its way
ever so more insistently
up its stem
fattening
its leaves
attempting to
unfurl
perfumed petals
hungering
to
fully blossom
i stood
wanting for the sun
of you
instead
that un-scratchable
annoyance
still persistent
unrelenting
and now
becoming the bane
of my muddled
existence
the itch
i
could not
scratch
always
just almost
always
never there
you
will never know
that you
are the tickle
upon my
goosebumped flesh
the elusive
almost
the resigned
never
your touch
is
a memory
kept
vibrant and hidden
fertilizing
the soil
within my soul
i look towards the east
but the sun
has since set
i miss being your bloom
Commiseration
We were both lost and broken And had given up hope when we met one another Tequila told the truth As we conversed in that booth and got to know more of the other The more we chose to share Of life and love being unfair The closer we soon became The bar lights gleamed bright What to do with the end of our night Both of us the lonely same We ended up falling tipsy into bed But became better friends instead and it's been oh so nice You've since asked what of him I've missed Was it the way he and I kissed His heat melting my ice? Was it his smile or his charm the ease in which he disarmed my defenses - one two three? The way he unmasked my disguise sturdy shovels for eyes digging down to the deep of me... I gave it thought, honest and true I'd not want to lie to you my newest cohort in loss I tried to put into words The tumbled thoughts which occurred And all I could say was - "The ease in which we spoke the stupid silly jokes I miss his sad rueful grin. The way he made me feel Seen, accepted, and real My qualities and my sins... I miss how he made me believe in forgiveness and reprieve That I had been absolved. But mostly, I miss my friend I miss what could have been How we could have evolved." With commiseration you gave a sigh No more talk for tonight Quietly we took our leave I can't help but think of him still Against my best wishes and will I remain unrelieved.
Imprisoned
Pouring regrets,
mistakes,
guilt,
into this
rocks glass
*neat please*
it’s the way…
the road
to perdition
a constant
hell
of one’s own making
exoneration
is a
pipe dream
as lucidity fades
culpability
becomes
a
faint tendril
disintegrating into
the dawn
forgiveness
teasing
with the
rising
of the sun
self-delusion
as it
diminishes
returns
to the
blurred
and sloppy
self-loathing
as the
exhaustion
of BEING
becomes a dense,
thickened, hairy
weight
on the
soul
all that is left
for respite
is sleep
only to
repeat
on the morrow
The Bottom
Drowning
Gasping
Swallowing gulps of
Desolation
I had a life jacket
Ripped it off
Was so
Constricting
It kept me from swimming
Who knew
I just needed to keep afloat
Now
Sinking to
The Depths
Eyes glazing
over
Pulse slowing
Heart faltering
I will never
See
The Sun Rise
or Set
Again
I did this to myself
Smeared
how wretched this predicament and how stinging the pain wrenching deep down into the place where i would run to be happy – to find an escape from the seduction of agony and her silky wiles of indigo blue dank
she follows it follows
and i might finally be done
not yet
i convalesce
how gorgeous this spot becomes – i just never before noticed the velvet of the violet hues – so vibrant – and how strange that this isn’t really my place anymore…. it has transformed into something completely different
in the corner a crumpled mass of sorts – what a marring sight to the dark beguiling magnificence of my secret grotto – beige and malformed it taunts me with its ugliness but i am too distracted to approach
besides
i don’t want to know
how completely in awe i am that i begin to spin and spin and spin until the blues and purples become nothing but a hazy canvas and i am the center or maybe the circle on the right – perhaps the ? on the bottom left
i am everywhere and anywhere – nowhere – and i collapse into a pool of crimson that i soon realize is nothing but a deep puddle of my perceived and actual failings which have collected into a quicksand pit around my feet and i begin to sink and sink and
the beige mass – crumpled deformity raises what i think might be its head but i can’t see past the thick of the deep maroon
all i hear is silence and my breath as it rasps swallowing my gargled delirious sobs
i am
home
Note To Self
I’m not fond of it. And it’s something I can never put my finger on. I can be having quite the innocuous day – somewhat pleasant, fairly uneventful, nothing out of the ordinary will have occurred – when I am just dealt the most sucker of punches to my emotional sternum. I feel my mental legs buckling beneath me, slipping into the wash of melancholy, muddy and oppressive.
I am hit with the Sad.
A Bushel of Blegh.
You could lay at my feet all the smiles and laughter that had just been bouncing about, deliver happy chirps of well-meaning pick-me-up cliches, wrap me in the Tomorrow Is Another Day positivity that you keep handy for occasions such as these…
They will all be shunned.
Not because I don’t want any of those and more.
Not because I enjoy the depressing descent into Debbie Downerville.
No.
I will ruin every last bit of bright and shiny you give me. I will dejectedly demolish every grin and chuckle with my clumsy clompy feet. Accidentally muffle and strangulate the once vibrant twittering of good intentions. I will shred to pieces the shawl of optimism, never a chance to warm against the shivering dankness of the dark.
I would rather you keep those bits to yourself. Keep every last piece intact. Protect each one from my awkwardly ambling slippery with the Sad self.
I may be a dumpy mess, but I am not a monster.
The Wilt
Barely feel conscious
My passions passed long ago
Sleep is for the dead
The Russian
I woke up
after having seen you in my dream
I awoke
and
It was with such
longing
A desire to
really have been so close to you
sitting there
across from your open face
your crooked
happy smile
those eyes
so very nearly
gray
This wretched dream
I remembered
so much
You would leave a peck
on my cheek
while I slept
sprawled and tangled
in the sheets of your bed
Barely a stir
until
Consciousness piqued by the
smell of toast
and your favorite
ramen
I
stumbling out
into the shocking
brightness
one eye open
Your outline
fuzzy
but voice
clear
And I hear you
gentle and
sincere
“Sunshine”
*****
Those memories
brought to surface
by a ridiculous
dream
What I’d give to have kept
sleeping.
Crawlspace
with bated breath
i have waited
gave my mind to death
thoughts cremated
with eyes tight shut
i fell and fell
bruised, banged and cut
otherwise well
asleep with fists
fighting my thirsts
oh how i would miss
being this cursed
But Otherwise Fine 