there had been a time, a something for the day, every day: visceral and gaunt, toothy and wrapped in sinew. and now, now, silence within a semblance of peace. but it’s all there, under the floor boards, like poe’s beating heart ranting and screaming and bursting at the seams and i dance over it instead, steps stomped out in routine and mediocrity, with dressing the children and washing their hands and holding them tightly as we venture in to the world, day in, day out. bang all you want, tortured demon of mine, but this isn’t your time: i belong only to them.
Category Archives: words
best. christmas. ever
and quiet falls upon us, the hush of winter
and quiet falls upon us, the hush of winter, the hush of promises waiting to be fulfilled it’s christmas time and we’re waiting ever so carefully, like orpheus, fearful to turn around, fearful to look over our shoulders and to see what we’ve lost, what we’ve worked so hard to acheive, fearful and hopeful and expecting and snuggling up under the covers, keeping warm against the seeping cold, reaching to each other through the dark, entangling each other in the dark, candle light spirits, flickering against the drafty windows and creaking doors, waiting quietly, patiently, for winter to envelope us and deliver us unto christmas morning
watch me
no you don’t have to listen. i can’t make you listen. i can’t make you do anything. but you can watch. you can watch me fall apart, you can watch me scratch at the scabs and gnaw through the callouses. you don’t have to listen, but you can watch how i disassemble, how i grieve, how i mourn, how i choose to no longer breathe. you see watch me struggle through every move, every step, the agony of getting out of bed, out the door, into the world. you can watch how i strive for oblivion, for anarchy, for entropy, for collapse.
start of daze
ok. how to do this? with pliers and will and something sinewy, something that gets stuck between broken molars:
day 3 of SAMe. new week of Unisom and 5 Hour Energy Boosting. Like MZ said, “This, this is what’s going to kill you.”
not yet a word
isn’t it funny? all these metaphors for life: computers, language, music. all these things, a thing for something else, a place holder for something we know is there but do not yet have a word for it.
because it is the last
how long how long how long until this madness ends and the world finally falls apart leave boiled meat sloughing off the bone and it’s all asunder and done and finished and finally finally finally we’re at an end and we can breathe because it’s the last.
While shopping…
the sudden sense of failure, of internal implosion: i want to be free of this, i want to stand absolutely still and have it overwhelm me, have it wipe me out finally and completely and totally. i want to stop feeling everything and nothing, i want move beyond feeling broken.
zen or distraction
the same again: will i ever find peace? will i ever be complete and whole? work and wife and children and still, still this fucking pain with each breath. working out, chiseling a body long abandoned, reading fact and fiction and theory and science, and still, still: ennui and void, entropy and emptiness, pathos and pain…
are you happier or more pre-occupied? have you found a rhythm to dance to or more rabbit holes to scurry into? zen or distraction?
it's so loud, inside my head
there are times, late into the night, in this haggard breath the moon coughs across these streets, i feel this intolerable loneliness, this immense and profound sense of isolation: this skin is a prison, my mind a cell and every word i have ever said a betrayal of every word i should’ve said.