from the surface i need this, i need to trace the line of this fracture, follow it where it goes. does it lead to something solid, somewhere safe, a cave, a tree, a water fall, a cliff? i need to trace the line of this fracture with its jagged edges and angles, with abrupt, haltering steps and rapid shots. i need to to follow it to see if leads to something even stronger than myself and i’ve done much to myself, i’ve armored myself to the point of heartlessness. but what if it leads to something weaker, something broken beyond repair, something that will keep me from breathing, something that will beg to bring me into despair? some dark truth i can no longer deny, some revelation that i’ve always been lost, i’ve never ever begun to be whole.
this is the vile dance, the tripping over. this is the rush of gambling with your soul.
Category Archives: internals
thoughts, musings, life, etc
it’s a balance between
it’s a balance between momentum and pressure. steam rolling forward while keeping the center intact. if you look too closely at anything, inside, outside, your guts or the scenenary outside, focus on anywhere for too long, you’re lost, the momentum gets lost, the center flies apart.
you need to go fast enough to keep going but not too fast lest the centrifugal force breaks it apart.
and by keeping your eyes moving, roving, attentive, alert -but never closed- don’t you dare close your eyes- you just might be able to strike a balance, to find some middle ground that is safe.
but until then, it’s all bare knuckles and clenched teeth and utter complete madness.
nothing is beyond apparently
nothng is beyond reproach or suggestion, nothing is beyond repair apparently
we can fix this, we can fix everything, everything but the damaged bodies
it’s built upon. there is no way out, there is no end in sight, perpetual emotion machine
perpetual fault machine. precariously and vicariously, living another life through yourself
watching yourself living another you.
i’m sick, in robot mode, pure sinew and tendon
muscles beat, skin beat, head beat, heartbeat,
just a few hours more. maybe even the liquor, although of course
that would just be catastrophe (there’s nothing inherently wrong with the liquor
except for the fact that it literally speaks to me, it literally says, “aren’t i elegant?
am i not pretty?”)
and the little elf inside goes completely apeshit.
he cackles, “you’re the worm in the bottle goddammit.
you’re the goddamn worm.”
abandoning, abandon, abandoned
it’s like an echo of where you were
it comes so softly but you’ve been gone for such a long time
i no longer know the difference between the memory and the echo and the person
who should be there
an emptiness that yawns instead of you, that grows within me
instead of you, time that passes me by, instead of you
and you think you see me there, solid in stone in my anger and laughter
in my sorry state of worry and stress
a sham of what could’ve been but its the only thing you’re expecting of me
an echo in light of where i once was
maddening
completely out of control to be torn to shreds to be everyone and everything to everyone and ultimately be nothing escape into smashed pieces where i can say anything about this i want anything but this one moment breaking lit alight kicked up and flung her smile her laughter her hands her tears her last words a cackle of ghosts everywhere wound pulled open at the edges never to heal what he said what he did promises never kept promises he should never keep over and over lightening like the madness of asking too much and the horror of giving too little and he knows this he knows this of course he fucking knows.
only children of the world
why are we all desperate for the approval of others? why is that? why are we still hungry for the attention of our fathers and resent our mothers?
how is it we are perfect chameleons and charmers and yet have trouble peering into our own souls? why we are driven by distraction and completely lack any discipline?
how is it we can love so quickly and completely and then turn away as if nothing happened at all?
(to this day i close my eyes and i see his last breath. i open my eyes and he’s tossing my mother across the room. i blink and he was gone, just like that. i run, and i see myself being terrified, bringing him coffee when i was four. i run out of breath, and he touches me gently, telling me he loves me, he will always be my father. i close my eyes, and my mother tends to her broken face in the mirror. i open my eyes, and i’m telling his brother they can have his body and do whatever they want with it after he is gone, until then he was under my care. i blink, and they are asking if they should re-inflate his right lung. i go to sleep, and i consent to take him off the machines. i am haunted, i watch him die again and again and he never sees what i turned out to be)
and the little one
just like that, sneaks up on me, dead slumber in the basement for the night ahead and it’s not so much i hear her but i can feel her inches from my tired eyes, the stuccato pace of her breath before she giggles.
and just when i want to jump up and scare the bejeezus out of her, she leans forward and kisses me, softly, softly. she asks, as i crack open an eye, “daddy, daddy can i stay with you, here?”
forever and ever, forever and ever.
mechanical play
“goddamn this noise inside my head” -NIN, “the becoming”
wires and flesh, machine beast
mechanical heart strings, like strumming a guitar
finding the chord that opens the world, all hope
cold eye stare, hot steel, unfeeling pump, unthinking logic
depraved and loving, the circuitry of incalculable desire
the weakness of being, there’s nothing in being this way
absolutely nothing to the core, tin shell rust yearning, pining
to be cracked opened, to find a way to bleed
(and you want to crack her open to get to all the soft parts, to poke and prod, inside and out, find where it still hurts, to see what you can and cannot fix, to swap out this feeling for that, set this bone in its proper place and shatter expectations, to repair her and take what you need for yourself, swap spit, swap wounds, swap muscle for springs, gears for teeth, vampire mechanic asking for nothing, taking everything and giving it all in return, the blunt joy, the exquisite trauma, the mad laughter of sorrow, the beauty of the lie, something like love but more like mindless fucking, desperate repair, something at angles with everything you both know)
the need to go about
the need to go about the grind, pushing it, like a forehead against the bars, the pipes. like rubbing rust against the knuckles. the need to make it through the grind, to make it matter, like tightening teeth.
as if there is an other side, a way through. as if there was respite. ever the quandry. he says, “wow. you obsess”
you bet your ass i do. i commit. extreme. i ponder it all around the gums, i pluck it out, i study it, run under my chin.
this is what you do to find a pace, a rhythm, a way of going about. like listening for the beat before the leg lifts from the floor, before the toe taps. it’s incredibly awkward until it’s there. and finding it again and again, like hands in dirty laundry if you can stand the stench of what you’ve worn before.
but i never go back these days, i never fix anything. like unfinished doors and torn off bits of skin. all i try to do is open things with a hammer and thrash about. i never go back.
and she says
and when she says, “c’mon, let me be your pet,” there’s a cat grin like she was perched before a canary.
she’s the dream that turns and grabs your cock and twists it tight until it can’t get any harder.
and you want to grab her, her hips, put her over, under you, turn her around smack her behind, pry open her mouth. you want to brush the hair from her lips and devour her, be devoured by her, again and again.
you want to find at what point does the grin fall away and you see something raw and broken and real. to find something worth fucking.