I am forgetting how you smell

I have been refusing to remind myself

Of the sound of your laugh

So it can fade into the past

But I still feel where your thighs would hold my knee

Like someone carved the meat & bone out of me

And as your beauty fades

My rot remains

You are far from perfect

But I am clearly a derelict

All this dedication to my contrition

All the good intentions but I forgot the mission

I was not supposed to sleep

Till the whisper of a foxglove did not make me weep

Joy and pain come to me quickly

They rip and tear into me cruelly

Was once told that maybe no one could feel like me

Lately I have thought that I do not feel like me

The deep ridges of my fingertips

That I carved so recklessly

Have filled in

Every thing I touched knew

That my id was suffering

Now I am nothing

My tornadoes are ending

And the hurricanes recede

Wondered if the Sun would show

But these pregnant clouds will not leave

I can feel the pores of my skin pool

With their stagnant warm water

But is it not in stale ponds

Where the most harmful bacteria grow

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

ngtbaf

I was really looking forward to showing you how to write your name. How to turn ink into an inferno, a proud declaration of existence emblazoned on to a flag that you would stab into the mountain of life. I was excited to see you have all the confidence I could never muster in myself. I had hoped to nourish you enough that you would never fall apart at the thought of yourself. That I would be there after your first goodbye kiss to tell you from experience that it would be all right. But I am realizing now for the thousandth time that I am not the man I hoped I would be.

I do not sleep much. I have been laying in bed thinking about how we will never meet. I used to be crippled by emotions but now I am running on empty. Every three steps forward is followed by thirty leaps back. That even if I could pull you into existence I do not think I would ever do right by you. I always end up not doing right by people. Because I have never done right by myself.

Unless it was right to not subject you to all this by realizing I am never going to be a father.

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

From another angle

I might not have been a monster

Foaming tides speak candidly

That I ebb and flow just beneath sanity

A tab of salt on a parched tongue

Pull my insides up and out

I don’t belong here

Beyond the veil of melancholy

I should have asked for help

Retching on the hands of demons crawling their way out

My tongue is eaten away as I try to scream

Hopefully the nausea passes

And the tears dry soon

So I might look again with renewed clarity

Maybe this time I won’t see a monster

Callous conversation quick to categorize the case closed on my capricious character

But I can see the monsters tumbling from my eyes

Wet and shivering backs rise out of my tears

Their sinewy emaciated skin revealing the lack of fulfillment

Fingertips like hooks reach for my sleep

They never seem satiated

Maybe if I died they’d be content

But I wonder if they’d just float along the waves of grief

Laying their eggs into the people I love

An invasive species of sorrrow

Hope these pills open me up

To a more pleasant breath

I’m all fucked up

My dog has been sleeping on my legs lately

Like she’s keeping my soul anchored to my body

Tell the people close to me to be alert

I might have an adverse reaction

Keep telling myself it’ll be okay

But I’m so afraid of Falls now

How do I get up

If I’m still prone from the last drop

I hated hearing that I wasn’t making it up

I held hope that I was just dramatic

That I was just full of fabrications

But I’m a tad bit more than a little crazy

Just shy of killing myself

Because even in suicidal tendencies I’m a half-ass

There’s a stigma tied to my symptoms I’m told

It’s all very well defined and nothing to be ashamed of

They say I might feel worse and to taper off

But if it means commitment I’ll just double down

I’d rather feel sure about death than keep living like this

Nothing could stop me from loving you

But nothing seems fast approaching

I spent so long pushing against the trap that cripples me

Your voice at the nape of my neck

Kept my spine from splintering

But nothing is closing around me

Lifting me up like a doll

Another one of its playthings

I feel myself caving under the pressure

But that’s okay

It’s okay

Rest

There’s a hourglass in my chest
And I know what time it keeps
Even after all this fighting
I’m not really trying to stay awake

I haven’t closed the door on the sandman
Instead I built a maze to slow him down
Slow the shifting sands just until they can forget me
So I might enter that sleep with a clearer conscience

a monster

Then I fucking relapse so hard and I can’t find someone to reach out to a panic begins to set in. I’m so disgusted with myself that the people I can reach out to I pull away from. I recoil from them like a vampire from sunlight. A werewolf from silver. I’m a fucking monster and I don’t see it getting any better. If I can’t fill my head with the voice of someone I love or respect then it’s just me in there and I’m not good company. I can be sure of that much so why not just reach out more and try and quell the rising rumble of rage and rejection of self that wrecks my reason and resolve? Because as I get down that list of voicemails and unread messages I become afraid of over extension and when I see those replies I become disgusted by my burdensome grotesque nature. I am a ghost haunting all the precious periods of peace that people I claim to love so painfully procured for themselves. Waiting to strike like a venomous snake and ruin their evening as they hear me hiss incessantly and watch in horror as I become Jormungander threatening to release my tail and bring about this Ragnarok. I am a fucking nightmare, a travesty and a monster.