message in the ether

it is the idea
it is understanding
it is seeing the horror
and finding a way to go on

i struggle
i reject those who live as if they know
who think their beliefs are paramount
beliefs based only on the desire for them to be true

talk to me
tell me something real

nonsuch

this is what i do. always thinking. always escaping from thoughts. thoughts trying to get free, and then bring me along. to say; such a delicate operation. just the right edge, not too wide, not too narrow. it’s quite a trick. not to confuse, or over saturate. that fine edge we skate along, and we are free then, unbound. a most elegant trick, a supple confusion, filled with just a hint of something beyond our ken, but oh what a something!

i could've been wonderful

But I'm just fucked up. Maybe permanently. How many people does this happen to? Damaged as children, innumerable tragedies. I should have died before, when it would have hurt none but those who richly deserved any pain they might have felt. But I was weak. I've always been weak, not by nature, but weakened. Now I'm stuck here, to make the best of it I can. Gaining strength so slowly, geologically. So by the time I die, maybe, just maybe, I will have a moment in which I will see infinity; then my light will wink out, forever.

anathema

long stretches of nothing

i try to say 

the answer 

but the question 

what was it 

brightly dark 

relentlessly intricate 

half formed 

push ahead 

as if 

it had weight 

and lightness 

an end

pieces

scraps.

these pieces burn. these make me smile. they whirl, they dance. a maelstrom. i try to make sense of it. a blizzard, haphazard. i have been more and less confused for as long as i know.

except those few times. dreamy times. alone. a deer walks by; her eyes contain the peace and sadness and inevitability in life. i want to be away, dreaming, alone, leaving no one. i think of them, these phantoms, not real to me now. they could be all around me real, if i step this way, if i swirl this thought just so. i could help them build their homes, and in doing so, build my own.

fuck jesus

i was beaten down, damaged, crushed to the point that it was all i could do to draw breath. for so long i wanted to stop even that, but i guess there was always the tiniest, most fragile hope that things would get better, and the thought that i could always do it tomorrow. i thought something would happen. some savior would come and change it all. i waited for that. i was conditioned to believe that. jesus. fuck jesus and all the assholes who tell that lie to defenseless children. this lie can allow you accept terrible things, thinking if nothing else, god will make up for it when you die. a decent god would not let me suffer like this indefinitely, leave me in a situation where i am powerless to save myself. he'll be along any day now.

of course i don't really mean fuck jesus, there is no jesus. i only say that to be inflammatory, to piss off the jesus freaks whom i despise.

the weaker i was, the more i was kicked, the more i was dismissed, the more i was taken advantage of. by christians. the "a few bad apples" argument holds no water. it's more like a few good apples mixed in with bad and mediocre apples. bad and mediocre apples masquerading as good apples, all too happy to endorse these fictions if it means their own is validated. this is a sad state of affairs that extends beyond christians, this mutual endorsement of fictitious merit.

the emptiness

I thought I could fill it up. I thought the bitterness would leave if I could do this one thing. But it seems to approach impossibility to be a good parent when you are broken. I have been a good parent, considering. I wait for it to play out, wondering what I could do now.  He has been loved, an accomplishment I do not discount. My greatest fear when I learned I was pregnant was that I would never be able to love anyone, that someone else would have to grow up knowing that pain, filled with this voracious void, a rabid animal all mouth and razor-sharp teeth, stopping only when exhausting itself from ripping at that center where something should be, where something tries to be again and again, futilely.

the folly of youth

They have the arrogant, proud ignorance that can be found in those who have never had to struggle to survive and have reached an age to begin to think, and are so enamored of those incipient thoughts that they tear off in high spirits and overindulge. I imagine they have been overindulged by the type of parents who are forever thinking well of their offspring (and patting themselves on the back for having produced such progeny) in spite of inconvenient facts.

shrinkage

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. - Anais Nin

cormorant dream

a cake under glass

covered in sickly icing

with blue flowers


they said "oh, how delicious!"



more than anything

i want to decorate it

with this dead cormorant

soaked in black oil

and say

how delicious

imaginary christians

If only they really were as imaginary as their god. But they are here too. It seemed like such an intelligent site, something more than the interminable dross which inundates the internet. I can only hope it is a fluke, a lone lost soul straying from the abundantly available sites which nestle them in placating falsehoods. It seems people are waking up to the damage they inflict on the world; would that i could accelerate the rate.

neutrino love

if i could understand

i could change it all



neutrinos hear my thoughts

they stop their lives
and build me a home

made of waves

i was safe

for .03 seconds

lies

to get past all the lies, then to grapple with the bitterness of the truth along with the deception. once we were young; they could tell us anything. lying is the great american pastime. still they persist. those who prefer not to see are plentiful enough.