Written today at 12:50pm Taken from a journal.
How do you force yourself to regret? And I mean, as a necessary action after having assumed so much and harbored acidic feelings, realizing that you have to un-feel them. And its the saddest moment of your life when you realize you can't.
How do you cool down hate? How do you turn it down and make it softer, lighter? How do you dilute it and make it clearer?
How do you brighten up sadness? How do you make it happier?
How do you let things go? How do you throw them far away? How do you run from it?
How do you erase betrayal? How do you make nice?
And how do you undo whats done, without having to break it?
How do you?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
On shock
Taken from a journal, written 3-5-10 at 4:59pm-5:14pm
Thinking, but not really thinking about anything. Stare is unmovable, and the smile is in shock. Somehow still, as if not moving will make things change for the better; in a conscious coma. The mind knows, but the body does not. Losing all desire, after someone touches one of the chords in your heart. And now, sound reverberated throughout your case of a body. And your blood aches from flowing through your body that is barely alive. Your eyes well up, un-bursting, like holding the oceans in the fleshy skin of a pea. Your throat knots up, with the complexity of a "monkey's fist." You have screams that get stuck there.
And all because of shock; an agonizingly uncomfortable and bone-rustling shock. And suddenly, you're lost. You let go of the steering wheel, despite going 86 miles per hour. And for a second you feel free, until the following second, which is panic, and then closely accompanied by fear.
Energy is drained from your movement through a storm drain with no recovery. All this, at a time when music seems to be going at the rhythm of your heartbeat, or whats left of it.
At a time when you want to carve certain things out of your mind like a bruise on a bad apple. And you want to be left with just the seeds and stem.
Because honestly, the less you have, the less you have to deal with.
All this at a time when every word spoken sounds like singing to a very morbidly sad song. All this at a time of shock, when you learn to tune your emotions to deeply feel the world through it. And you wish nerves were like coated electrical wires so that you could know which one to snip, in order to stop that bomb that's ticking.
Thinking, but not really thinking about anything. Stare is unmovable, and the smile is in shock. Somehow still, as if not moving will make things change for the better; in a conscious coma. The mind knows, but the body does not. Losing all desire, after someone touches one of the chords in your heart. And now, sound reverberated throughout your case of a body. And your blood aches from flowing through your body that is barely alive. Your eyes well up, un-bursting, like holding the oceans in the fleshy skin of a pea. Your throat knots up, with the complexity of a "monkey's fist." You have screams that get stuck there.
And all because of shock; an agonizingly uncomfortable and bone-rustling shock. And suddenly, you're lost. You let go of the steering wheel, despite going 86 miles per hour. And for a second you feel free, until the following second, which is panic, and then closely accompanied by fear.
Energy is drained from your movement through a storm drain with no recovery. All this, at a time when music seems to be going at the rhythm of your heartbeat, or whats left of it.
At a time when you want to carve certain things out of your mind like a bruise on a bad apple. And you want to be left with just the seeds and stem.
Because honestly, the less you have, the less you have to deal with.
All this at a time when every word spoken sounds like singing to a very morbidly sad song. All this at a time of shock, when you learn to tune your emotions to deeply feel the world through it. And you wish nerves were like coated electrical wires so that you could know which one to snip, in order to stop that bomb that's ticking.
Burying the past.
Just when I thought it was long buried... it propped up like an old stone. Now I have to find a shovel, a good spot, and attempt to rebury it. Here we go again...
...But who are we kidding. nothing ever really gets buried... it just lies on the floor with a little dirt thrown over it
...But who are we kidding. nothing ever really gets buried... it just lies on the floor with a little dirt thrown over it
Monday, March 1, 2010
On losing the living.
Written today from 9:15pm-9:30pm, taken from a journal.
Losing is losing, for the most part. But losing a significant piece to your everyday life, is a dull and dry hit upon your ribcage, which shakes the heart about like an earthquake. It feels like having the air sucked out of you, and losing your soul in the process. There's a difference between losing the dead (people who die), and losing the living (never seeing someone again). At least by losing the dead you can reach them, and tell them exactly what you want. But when you lose the living, there's a grand impotence. You can't reach them. They can lose themselves away from you, and there will never be a grave you can cry on. Their graves are only in our imagination. Our tears will be cried deep within us, somewhere near the soul. But there will never be closure for the hole they leave us with, that leaves us looking like swiss cheese.
Impotence and sorrow. That's all they leave behind. And why do they leave? Because their lives, their goals, their dreams, and their plans do not include us? They're quick to leave us behind, weeping and screaming out to them.
Do we mean so little to them? Were our footsteps in their lives that light, that we left none? Did our stains not soak enough? Did our love not love enough? Was our presence not felt enough? Where did we go wrong? Was a wrong turn made somewhere that friendship was meant to be lightly taken? I don't know a lot, as I have no graves to cry on. I weep to the wind, in hopes that it will reach them, somehow, somewhere, wherever they are.
We're left, united by a moon and the air that is shared with the rest of the world. And that is no comfort for me, since those are the same things that unite them to everyone else. So I, painfully, come to consider he fact that I guess I am also, "everyone else."
Losing is losing, for the most part. But losing a significant piece to your everyday life, is a dull and dry hit upon your ribcage, which shakes the heart about like an earthquake. It feels like having the air sucked out of you, and losing your soul in the process. There's a difference between losing the dead (people who die), and losing the living (never seeing someone again). At least by losing the dead you can reach them, and tell them exactly what you want. But when you lose the living, there's a grand impotence. You can't reach them. They can lose themselves away from you, and there will never be a grave you can cry on. Their graves are only in our imagination. Our tears will be cried deep within us, somewhere near the soul. But there will never be closure for the hole they leave us with, that leaves us looking like swiss cheese.
Impotence and sorrow. That's all they leave behind. And why do they leave? Because their lives, their goals, their dreams, and their plans do not include us? They're quick to leave us behind, weeping and screaming out to them.
Do we mean so little to them? Were our footsteps in their lives that light, that we left none? Did our stains not soak enough? Did our love not love enough? Was our presence not felt enough? Where did we go wrong? Was a wrong turn made somewhere that friendship was meant to be lightly taken? I don't know a lot, as I have no graves to cry on. I weep to the wind, in hopes that it will reach them, somehow, somewhere, wherever they are.
We're left, united by a moon and the air that is shared with the rest of the world. And that is no comfort for me, since those are the same things that unite them to everyone else. So I, painfully, come to consider he fact that I guess I am also, "everyone else."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)