The Internet told me it gets better with time and I want to feel this, this… better they speak of; Seems like every time I’m close enough to reach it, touch it, be it it’s snatched away. Or, maybe it runs… Either way, all I’ve ever known is pain, and confusion. I just want to …
From one minefield to the next, I’ve somehow managed to avoid the triggers – the bombs still blow but the explosions happen in my mind, unending afterimages of destruction and I use my reality as the gurney that hauls away the limbs ripped from the body of work created by harboring all the pain and …
Lately I’m only just noticing that I tend to begin to explain to you exactly what I’m doing as soon as you enter the space I’m in before you can even ask or assume; It’s almost like you’ve conditioned me to tiptoe and overexplain; these eggshells have already cracked under the pressure I’ve been putting …
I always feel a slight sense of discontentment or disappointment when I find myself saying or thinking, “next time.” Maybe it’s because I’m frustrated with myself at how it always seems like I’m trying to squeeze too much into a single day [or sentence]; setting expectations for myself that are way too high to climb and …
So what if my writing sometimes refuses to go any deeper than surface level and touch all the raw, sore spots, the gaping wounds, imprinted onto me by the egopinions of everyone but myself? Maybe I’m just tired of pain, and the remains of my own ego seek to shield me from the traumas of …
How’s life? I don’t really know, I – Can I get back to you on that? I’ve been writing about it in my mind of what it is, what it could be, what it has been and there are vast imbalances between its scales. But this story isn’t done yet so I just keep writing …
I think I’m ready now to face down my shadows; The ones that burrow deep and that I attempt to run and hide from even in my sleep. I’m not afraid of what they’ll reveal, not even fearful of what they’ll make me feel. I don’t worry about how they’ve marred my soul – I determined long …
I think I like most of the things about myself that I say out loud I don’t – I self-deprecate to deflect the attention that part of me actually secretly desires but that I also hope happens organically; I haven’t figured out how to do that so instead I just push it all away. And …
Watching my heart shatter over and over watching the remaining shreds wave forgotten in the wind; Dying millions of deaths every passing moment wondering what normal life ever felt like… I’ve never experienced it, torn apart, I’ve become dust, ashes; scattered across realms and planes untraveled. No longer solid, never again whole… Like an edifice …
Can’t keep up, can’t back down – Speak optimistically internally I frown because maybe I’m doing too much, though it feels I do little; As such, I quickly lose focus and get to feeling quite bogus. All of this feels…wrong I feel like I just don’t belong: Not even wanting to fit in I just …
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
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