Suffering

I would rather
hurt
than live without
understanding

Part of me wanted
-curious-
to know...
So I never
asked
for an end,
just wisdom

Even if it needed
payment in blood.

Guilt

Lingering tendrils of "should"
Squeeze and release
Constrictor
But no life of its own
Feeds on inorganic matter
Unrequited apologies
Loss
Less choices...leftover choice
Powerless
Painted as something
Monstrous
Internalized judgement

You don't define me
My choices do
My words do
My actions

I'm here to take back
no

Here to re-create
no

Here to forge anew

My purpose
              identity
                      self

Ready. Set. Forgive.

10th

Never in a month of Sundays
Did I expect this
Wind
Shredding skin with tiny dirt bits
It pulls at my clothing,
Threatening to lift me or rend
Threads, leaving me exposed.

I
Feel
Naked. Vulnerable. Utterly at the mercy
Of sheer force.
Floored.
At one with all the
insignificant crawlers of the surface
Unity in anonymity
Unseen

Pure power. my laugh echoes
fundamental falsehood of safety
humanity clings to their sticks and stones
I fling open my arms to embrace the
Wildness
Ferocity
Unbridled passion

...and just me
Depending on the moving air
Breath of Life

Breath

Stress-ball to the left of me
Coke-head to the right
Her I am, stuck in the middle with you

Fog surrounds each smoker, wafting
Gently away
Hold
Lungs burn either way- ashes
Are lack of oxygen
Holding my breath
The same
But ashes rip-burn pockets of dystrophy in my lungs
Much more death-y than going without
life-atoms
completely

Oh the irony

Poem for the 5th

Four older siblings
One of the basic musical structures
A major key, usually paired with a minor fall
Beethoven had one

*****************

Yeah, this should probably be a riddle for Smaug or something like that. Remind me to be a better writer next time. *smirks*

April 4 (unfinished, because)

I wake up
One arm is freezing to touch
Goosebumps and approaching numb

The rest of my body
Radiates
I reach out to love you

Cold sheets.

Abscence
Heart drop
I have to move
To find you
And the covers & I...
were just getting close.

I move and the sheet slides
Yeeugggggh
Texture change
Smooth sheets to rough yarn
I pull my attention to my shoulders
where the fluffuzz caresses my body

April 3

First day
Cupcakes
Unicorn happiness
Rainbow sprinkles
Frosting sweet
Vanilla
Smile's infectious
Future plans
Teach
Purpose found
Awaiting connection
Pieces discovered
"Lookin' for a mind at work"
Communication medium
Social work
Wild horses
Options revealed
Joy grows
Anticipation

April Poem Dump!

A good friend of mine challenged her friends via Facebook to participate in April as national poetry month. Her call to action was a poem a day, and while I have not met that, I have certainly attempted.

Some of it's crap. Some of it is starting toward being decent. Other parts...eh. Probably should be poetry and would be better conveyed in prose.

And this is how I mark the change in my days. I make sure it's on the internet somewhere, because lurking fears that my mind will descend into the infinite fog of forgetting still linger.

Hey future self, if that shit happens again:
you can make it out. Take some L-methylfolate. Keep trying. Keep fighting. Some infinities are bigger than others, just like what's-his-jerkface told Hazel Grace. You got out before and you can do it again. This infinity will shrink, eventually, under the unending and overwhelming force of love. Other things will grow by comparison. Thriving happens again. Survival first. Make it out. Find a stick, or borrow one, or ask for one. Force the Universe to make a way out. Use the knife.* Accept help. Ask for what you need. Let people love you; let them love you let them love you let them love you. It's okay to need. It's okay to ask. It's okay to want and cry and be disappointed. It's okay to be numb and blunt and a little socially awkward while you get out of the dark. Never be cruel (and in case you forget, we stay away from those always-words, you and I).

My life has shifted radically in ways I did not predict (which, I suppose, is good). I never imagined this would be my life- writing on my blog while BurritoZor, Pocket, and Neyo watch closeby, Morgan and Jack watch faraway, and Fenrir sleeps on the couch, awaiting my invitation to actually go to bed; working at a "call center" with some surprisingly awesome people; collecting people to benefit the whole collection; and giving, finally having things to be giving, and feeling safe enough to simply give away.


*In retrospect, that sounds really dark. It's supposed to be a reference to Phillip Pullman's book "The Subtle Knife."

The Wrong Two Words (*despairingly* unfinished)

So exciting
I would call finger-touches
Fire

but I have tasted flames
and it's different.
Same heat
ambient & intense
there is no burn
but still, danger
like standing on a hill,
head back & arms outspread,
as the storm sparks
Lightning

the only electricity
I like to hear
ripping the seams of
reality
in the ash-smudged sky
Maybe that's why
I don't like
the sound of the wand
It's so fake
it splits me up inside
my core is allergic to in-
Authenticity

but the reaction is worse

Poem for April 1

Dragging my feet
Brief dismay
My favorite celeb
died today

Then I remember-
how uncool-
Today's synonym is
April Fools