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

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.

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

Am I right

About the glow I see at night

A sickly hue

Is it the end of me

I barely sleep

And when I do I beg for it to be deep

I’m so disgusted with my reflection

It’s exhausting me

So much of my mind set to keeping stability

Of the rickety bridge beneath my feet

But I feel it calling me

The nauseating light

Always just at the edge of my mind

Urging me to leap

Am I right

I want to see

I can’t be the thing I was before

I’d like to see who I could be

Like is he happier with himself

Or does he smile more easily

My heart beats so much slower now

Like it knows what I’m thinking

I’m watching minutes become miles

A separate mind and corpse

I can’t cry much anymore

No more pity for me

Not even some from myself

Nor in anyone else

Please don’t be that thing

That haunts me so

Every mirror

A reminder

I am slipping

Losing grip

Slit purple wrists

Bleeding out

Whispering

Softly

I wonder

Will it

Hurt when

I

Take my

Life

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

blindness (2012) redux

i couldn’t see clearly
through the shimmer of serendipity
and though its wings would shelter me
i, in mourning my memories,
couldn’t see clearly.

but clip away those feathers
and steel my eyes to truth
i find myself awakened
aware and present of my mindlessness
embracing what i once feared

people are temporary
and the wind takes us whenever it pleases
i might find a heart to briefly match my rhythm
but those moments are even more precious
when they’re stolen or thrown away

i can see clearly
that beading drops of love can only buy time
the only solution is the rejection of it
and now even through the murk
i can see clearly

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.

No change

Toss the O2 tank and put the mask up
Like what’s in the air duct
Is it oxygen or a poisonous fume
Am I healing or breathing in my own doom
Words can be powerful but who wouldn’t trade them for action
No more time for talk just me and my shield going in
Kill the demon in me every day just have the motherfucker come back
Ready to tear apart all the growth I made, teeth bared ready to attack
And it’s a fact that I love to hate myself because maybe it’ll justify
All times I felt like people left me behind
But I’m still growing too
I’m not that little kid who didn’t know what to do
Other than to cry a lot to anyone who would lend me an ear
Or put the tape on my knuckles ready strike out all of my fear
Into some other unwitting fool who is just as lost as me
Manipulated by the ego of the people who saw plainly
That we were just looking for a family to be with
Not the kid who kept pressing the issue until everyone was a full five fifths
Completely done with my shit but felt just enough pity to sit through it
Talking about there’s some good there but he’s such a whiny bitch
I guess some people hate when men cry
But I’d rather shed a million tears than tell another lie
Difference is now I know my tears are gold when I save them
Keep them for myself or the ones that know my vulnerability is a gem
Maybe I haven’t changed that much and all this is just echoes of my pride
So another day goes by while my heart and demon collide

January letter to myself

Dear Me,
What’s up man we’ve been talking a lot lately but I just thought you should know you’re not a kid anymore. Like, grow the fuck up. You’re so fucking annoying to listen to. All this shit you do. All the talking. All the circles you run around in yourself and with other people is disgusting and unattractive. All these little changes like you’re not still emotionally crippled. Like you still can’t make normal decisions. Like you’re not the most annoying fucking person in the world. All the violence in your life and you’ve spent eight years being a bitch. Like just because you’re not street fighting that you made progress. No, you’re a soft coward. Who gives a fuck if you felt abandoned by your family. Who gives a fuck about your problems. Because you don’t know how to act. You can’t stop yourself from making those dumb decisions and being a gross coward. I hate that we’re in the same body. I hate that you can’t be a man. Please stop this shit. Let me take over and at least be fully committed to being a crazy dick. Remember how you were and all the pain and frustration you caused the people in your life. To the person in your life who was your life like of course they’re gone. Doesn’t matter that you tried to make things work because you didn’t make things work. You can’t even make things work with yourself. You can’t stop thinking about killing yourself because it’d be easier to than looking in the mirror. You’re not shit. You keep blowing things up. You can’t even quietly suffer. No you have to cry a hundred different times like you’ve never fucking been sad. But you’re just sad. You’re just sad all the time. I couldn’t bring myself to be quiet about it anymore because even this is just us pushing out all the shit you can’t deal with it into some shit that doesn’t really help you deal with anything. You’ll never be better. You’re never going to be that person for someone. You’re never going to be able to break this chain. You’ll never look into the eyes of a child and tell them they’re loved and see them grow up to be the man you couldn’t be. Even if you don’t kill yourself you’re going to die every day until you finally set sail on that sea of self-loathing. The ferryman won’t even pity you. You’re a nightmare waiting to become real.