Thursday, December 30, 2010

Confused States

"I don't think I am capable of having any friendships, but would you be my friend anyway"?

Steady now, don't quaver, don't get weepy. She just may take pity on you, don't fuck this up.

"Of course I will."

You thought she'd say that. She picks up stray dogs and hippies, and brings them home.

Should you say what you're thinking? No, just think how you would react to someone puking up such a mess on your floor. It's downright repulsive. This will do. Stay still. You just might make it out alive.

How the fuck do they do it? I know they have pain. So what the fuck is wrong with me, that I just can't hack it? It doesn't matter, though. You have to do it. You could break out, but they'd take another in your place, and he'd get even worse, you know that. Like it got you, when he took the out.

Fuck. This wasn't supposed to get depressing. Shit. This is me, trying not to get depressing. That's fucking depressing. O.K. Let's try this again.


I'm fond of my stray thoughts. Like homeless dogs, they keep looking for a home, for sustenance. But so many of their remains now litter my head, and I am losing my way.

Does suicide imbue one with a gravity they could not attain in life? Would they want to understand me then, would I suddenly become fascinating and have penetrating insights? They always ask about the note; and here are hundreds. I never knew who they were; I only have a vague notion. They have always been there, but out of reach. The ones that were in reach, I cannot speak of. Though it may not seem so, I am trying to get to higher ground. But I failed again. Let me try it at a run.


Breathe. There must be something light, something less ponderous, something to bring a smile. It is quick, but if I shrug off these chains I will catch it. I'm off.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

trapped in a plaintive song

and not just one. it's a nightmare with a strange beauty. one trap after another, a habitrail, a cube, escape only into another trap. i can see out. i have imagined myself out there, i have run for it, but i begin to suspect terrible possibilities. i won't say truths, because, my mind, you know i can't trust it. as arrogant as i seem, it's a protection. i even believe the ruse sometimes. but really i know. i am crumbling, in more ways than one.

what was lost...and gained

my brain would like to rest. that was a long run over broken glass. traveling back in time, channeling myself. my younger self, only three then, powerless, not knowing how wrong it was, only that it hurt. insane monster, slobbering, raging. hollow monster, nothing to hold onto. almost, at times, but often only grabbing at a ghostly form.

dad. and mom.

i waited 20 years to tell this tale to him. the tale of the magnets and the belt. i'll tell you, soon. i would never hurt him like that. no, not the actions; i mean just the knowledge of what was done to me. how horrific is that?

i had only given him hints until now. a bad childhood. allusions to a brother i no longer had.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear

the hippies played an eerie rendition of "brain damage" last night. all these things i have in me, portable art, forever changed by it. this is my jewelry; what i decorate myself with.

in order for me to hear them, they had to first be embraced by the masses who could not hear them. but oh, how they thought they did. but i would never have heard them otherwise. i don't know how many really did hear, i know i am not the only one, but i know it is a small number. i have often wondered how they managed to be embraced as they were, what they had that the average imbecile responded to. i don't think i have that thing. so no one will ever hear me. but that is beside the point, and a small lament. though i used to think it would save me, to be heard. i now just think it would be lovely if it could get through to those who could hear, and it may, someday. my words may stay lost forever in this sea of mediocrity, but they will stay, so there is the chance.

i am not finding the words to describe the lunatic to you as i had intended. the way that song entwined around the growing madness in my head and caressed it, so that i was not so alone. i still wish i could speak in music. another frustration, but i will keep trying with what i have, and one day the words will come together, and i hope, build something lovely as well as tinged with sadness and regret.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

The Box

I see it long ago an old movie in my mind I can't see much the box is closed and silent all around no one talks to me but they never did and he did so I didn't care that he hurt me sometimes and I forget that part and I felt anyway and I needed and I fixed on this one thing which is now in the box.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Rising up

fuck rising up and overcoming. i’m fucking tired. working hard; a generation of untouchables, and the rest of you acting like it’s fucking normal, like some fucking aberrant god wanted it so. some are just poor and stuck, some are damaged from when they were too young to protect themselves, and struggle the rest of their lives with what that did to them. but that doesn’t automatically make them decent people. it makes them pitiable, but sometimes, if it weren’t for the abuse, they’d have been assholes just like everyone else. and it’s still in there, covered over by layers of dysfunction. and you think someone is in there, someone worthwhile, if you can just peel off the layers. and so you try. and all that trouble, all that filth you sifted through, you thought for a reason, was for nothing. her fiction of herself, this online persona which was not who she was in life, combined with the fiction i wrote for her in my own head, of what i wanted her to be, and the two things combined to create quite unrealistic expectations.

then there’s the rich. my god, i could go on about them. english is a wonderful language for scorn, and i am chock full of that. scorn and contempt. it is not what i wish. it is not what i choose over other, more lofty emotions. but they are everywhere, ruining everything. there is a way to rise above, i know, but i have not reached that level of enlightenment. and i am stuck. while all around a carnival, a parade that they march in and they don’t even see where they are, any of them, the rich, the poor, the damaged. i cannot understand their greed, the rich. i want nice things too, i can understand to a point, but they take it so far. and so much of what they want is so completely, i would think obviously, useless. then there is the willful blindness. everyone drinks deeply from that fountain. so few can see anything, and that is my loneliness.

of course, i must rise up and overcome. i must. there are only two other options. one, too horrific to think of what it would do to the only two decent people i’ve ever know, and the other, too horrific to think what it would do to me as well as them, to stay like this. and it never lets you stay, anyway. life is never static. and we must negotiate that while everything whirls all around us, as well as the maelstrom in our heads.


now listen to Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus, dammit. Please? it's such a fitting end to this piece. Goodbye Horses

i keep trying to talk to people through music, and so few can hear what i hear, can feel the full spectrum of what is contained there. there is such a world there, a dream world where the beauty of the pain entwines with the possibility of something more...and they give us this small space, this hope, a respite, to help us go on, to show us that there is more...if we can learn to see with new eyes, untainted by the shackles the world wants to keep you in.