I visited my friend recently

I could feel myself personifying it

Thinking life into every branch and leaf

It told me I looked well watered

I could not tell it that I had been crying

But I think it knew

I sat in it’s shade

Pressed the bark against my skull

Let it tell me about all it had seen

There is rebar sticking through the tree

I dare not ask

But I wonder if it had been stabbed

Or if it grew around it

Undeterred by obstacles

Inevitability

I am not sure if I can do this any more
And at my lowest a memory reminds me
Of a time from long before
Cruelly corrupted by my coddled entropy

My wicked hands drum up a devil
Whose eyes are purple and green
Gifts outstretched and ready to revel
Upon this gruesome scene

Whether it be poisoned water
Or a piece of cold rounded lead
In an old colt revolver
I come back to rather being dead

Because I am
Way more comfortable in pain
And all this “growth” is a scam
Synthetic hope to shoot in my veins

I keep tricking people into a belief
That my tomorrow is guaranteed
But I am a liar and a thief
Robbing their trust for my needs

Whether it be injection or a gun
In the end my body will burn
I am ready for this to be done
I am ready to rest in my urn

When it ends

Think in your minds eye the person or place you would most like to see when it all begins to recede. The universe stops expanding and starts a hasty retreat. The Sun swells with immense melancholic pride to face its approaching demise and its light bloodies the sky and drowns out our cries. As that silence sweeps over us with whom would you find the most peace?

Right now I could not think of a single person who would pick me. Any face that I can conjure would rather be with another and I could not fault a single one. So I think I would pick my dog and hope that she would do me the favor and stay at my side. I would wrap my arms around her and put my head into her shoulder so that I could not see in her eyes where she would rather be.

I often have to say out loud “Don’t hurt yourself.” in the middle of making a decision that will harm me in order to stop. It feels like I am walking in on someone else in my body. I am both invader and the invaded. I will be in control and out of it. I am present and yet after telling myself out loud to stop I am more present than I had been just before. Maybe I am the stranger in my body and the voice that says to stop isn’t mine.

I can not even say for sure if other people feel this way. My first thought is that this is not an unusual experience and that I am, in the drama of my mental state, making it more than it is. However I could very well be in flux. Constantly phasing between self-love and self-hatred. I can only speak to my own experience and even then barely.

I want to say that I am doing better and it not feel like I am lying.

Let me tell you a secret

Swear that you’ll speak it

Memories hurt the deepest

Self love or don’t love at all

They’re temporary

Stand alone or fall apart

Miss nothing or miss it all

Mourn the idea

And you’ll never recover

I don’t hold things sacred often. But I drive by this tree everyday. Seeing it in the morning and in the evening used to be a point of shame for me. This tree is a five minute walk from my house. One year ago I walked out to this tree and I sat underneath it with my gun for several hours. I cried and screamed and was the closest I had ever been to commiting suicide. I had only loaded a single round into the magazine and when it felt like my head was splitting open I shot the gun into the ground and threw up. I voluntarily gave the gun to a close friend for until I’m healthier. Back then the grass was overgrown, there were pieces of rebar and the tree was bare from the cold weather. It’s now well kept as they are planning to sell the land. The last few weeks driving by this tree has been a comfort. It’s now a marker that I have had 365 victories in a row. I have been if only in this one aspect of my life successful. I don’t normally condone the marking of trees and stuff since they’re living but I made a small exception. This tree is sacred to me because I live. I don’t have a bright follow up message but I’m alive today and I’m thankful for that.