sometimes stopping the pain is the end of it all

i see death in your silhouette

no, death is intimate and romantic

i see void

i see vast emptiness

a life where nothing lives

no parasite will feast

fleas, lice and the like scatter

even the most basic of chemical reactions

can speak fluently in survival

and where you linger, life does not

you suck love, light and happiness

from the souls of the pure

leaving them demented, tortured

banging their heads in sanitariums

selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors

anti-psychotics and shock therapy

when all else fails…

drilling holes in proper places and pour the ethanol

the torture you carry drenched in midnight ejaculation

self service, self rise, self satisfy, self depraved

narcissus and his pool of water-a swimming lesson

you are noxious when kind, napalm for the soul

great and mighty, papaver somniferum, the human equalizer

dripping, oozing, squirting madness onto trembling hands

but today your taste does not linger in my mouth

there is no fleeting euphoria of you swimming inside

as beautiful as you can appear, dear poppy,

your delicate petals swirling  lavenders, reds and pinks

springing from pale green pods-breath taking in every way

i now drift to sleep in the arms of true love

and i have never slept so soundly

 

 

waiting for the hands on the clock to applaud

i can feel the all of me swinging

the back and forth motion

learning from the past is nice

but living in the now is deadly

just a taste

a tiny little taste

just one

then it can be put away

i am too tired

every bit of me screams

my daily torture and torment

hooded ladies with lips of poppies

velvet and warm and dreaming

forgetting for moments

the tragedy and carnage

no more words of importance

a respite from political correctness

i wish it could be true….

pain dissolved in water

but i am me

i am “aswang”*

 

 

 

*aswang-filipino folklore-a shape-shifter.  the aswang can appear as a shy, innocent human then change into horrible, vampire-like monsters who feed on fetuses, babies and children.

white milky latex of the poppy

there are always screams

day and night every moment

even though they are there

i refuse to listen

i do not hear what they promise

the payment is too high

and the reward too small

there are days i sit

seemingly calm

i am anything but cool or collected

the plotting and flim-flam started without me

the mission was impossible to miss

they tell me i need it

dr’s explain in hurried voices

“healing is not possible with pain”

but living is not possible

when junk is your life

i can tolerate pain

i cannot tolerate the cusp

between life and death

my lungs breathing-barely

my heart beating-barely

and my mind shut off

like the vegas strip

if gambling changed courses

and all bets were done

a ghost town of hard hits and recklessness

the screams from the corners of my mind

screeching howling pleading

“just a bit”

“it will be different this time”

“you know how to control it”

“amy can give you daily doses”

half-truths and full-lies

pretty pills golden, white, blue, speckled, yellow, orange, tan

different shapes and different sizes

sexy and seductive with artistic flare

a smoke-screen, a magic trick, lights and shadows

when it grips the core

when it defines all

life is only infinite tearing of the soul and body

illness, pain, fear, panic, writhing-i will take death

i will never again wear my death shroud while i live

activate opiate receptors and fire

there are days you are my first thought

i wake in horror and disgust at my desire

rooted so deep in every cell of my body

the unquenching need for your elixir

i have every reason to return to you

and a few i keep tucked

in the folds of grey and white matter

locked safely and securely away

never uttered aloud to anyone

my secret, my hope, my lust

my memories of the years

we spent dancing together

our conversations and fights

all the days you wrapped me

in a blanket of softness

that enveloped me warmly

i can feel you stroke my hair

when i wake up on days like this

the nostalgia of us is tangible

but it is a lie, a horror story

wrapped up in a fairy tale

princesses and frogs kissing

and the handsome prince a sham, a clown

an ignorant fuck with no spine

she is left with a fool and warts

the only reminders of her efforts

they leave that part out

it’s not the pretty cool awesome part

it’s not the hip picture of existential

surreal knowledge and experiences

painted by sages dying on floors

it is blood and shit face down in piss

when i wake up you pounding away

hammering holes through my head

i forget for a moment the times

you helped aid in the burns on my bed

the smoldering mattress sending smoke

signals of help to anyone

sos · · · – – – · · ·

scars of 3rd degree burns whelp in the sun

i forget the times of strangulation

as you wrapped yourself inside

and began to push down

leaving me gasping and wide eyed

days and months with no voice

my thoughts lost in the haze

some days i for a moment

just a moment

want you to whisk me away in your carriage

that one way passage to hell

leaving my body behind

robotic movements nothing inside

then cell memory kicks in

the real deal of how it went down

the pain unimaginable as my

bones crushed under your weight

stomach lurching turning expelling

the anxious shaking ants legs

sweat pouring out in buckets

my heart pounding 20 beats per second

tom grasset on the drums

feeling sound hearing light

the smells wrenching through me

i tell myself it wasn’t so bad

you whisper that we don’t

need to become so involved

just hang out for a moment

a few hours is all that’s needed

i fell for it hook line and sinker every time before

only just a bit

fuck it a bit more

but see it’s different

i know your scam

i know your name

i see your face behind smoke

the taste of you is poison

the bitter sour pill

smashing between my teeth

i once thought it was ambrosia

the drink of all the gods

i know now what poison tastes like

i will not slip down into the pit

you made me dig

i am not a dog, sweetheart

your lies of poppy mists and happy bliss

now echos hollow in my mind

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pointless test pointless drs

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i went to the dr yesterday to have a sonogram done on my carotid arteries.  the dr thinks that maybe a cause in the falling down/passing out deal.

while getting ready to go, i noticed i was hyperaggro.  i was getting more and more upset the closer we got to walking out the door.  it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why i am feeling this way-i am fed fucking up!  i am losing my faith that this is something that is going away or even something they will label.  i am exhausted w the whole process and dealing w arrogant drs and techs and nurses, undergoing constant stupid tests, being probed, prodded and examined is mindnumbing!  all the while, i am sliding into an abyss of declining physical health i am losing my grasp on my life.

 

i am an active person.  i have good friends, i cook good food, i do good stuff for the places i live.  i tell good jokes, i have a good laugh, i wear good clothes (to me), i have a good partner and a good family life.  i like to go for good walks, tell good stories, take good naps, and have a good night’s sleep.  that is the me.  that is what i do.

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now, i struggle to speak.  there are times i am trying to talk and it is literally incomprehensible.  the words formed in my brain will not come out my mouth, instead it is random grunts reminding me of someone who has had a stroke.  before this whole decline i was doing oral storytelling for kids, now i can barely have a conversation.  at the best of times i stutter immensely, repeating the same word over and over.  even having a telephone conversation is outta the question most of the time.

it is fall, and the temperature is perfect for taking a stroll down the street.  the leaves are turning and the smell that fills the air is intoxicating.  i am not walking and taking in the beauty of my favorite season.  i fall down randomly.  so if i go for a walk i must have a partner who is willing and able to carry me home.  my oldest son can do this, but how do you ask that?  it’s too much to ask for, your baby to carry you home.

even wearing clothes is iffy.  when i leave the house, i have the need to never wear the comfy jammies i run around the house in, and i must always always wear a bra.  this is torture sometimes, and enough for me to stay home so i don’t have the scratchiness of denim or the inside cluster of cotton against my skin.  every weave can be felt.  it is overwhelming to the senses.

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i go to the dr at least once a month, to the gp.  plus tests, plus specialists.  we are holding our collective family breath for the neurologist in a week.  praying silent prayers to any deity who might be listeningImage

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anyone out there-to pleas let the neurologist have some sort of direction in which to steer us!  my family is grasping to hold onto a ray of light barely visible.  my hands can’t seem to grasp it any longer, i don’t even see it.  it just feels like a burden to try somedays.

the part of me that has always fought against everything is dwindling.  old thoughts and desires seem to be creeping into the cracks in my hope.  the idea of getting some relief from life seems more and more satisfying the more i slide downhill.  my cravings for a small respite, some good opiate sleep, is becoming more pervasive and a better part of my consciousness.  i have kept it at bay, refusing to even think about it, refusing to go to the drs i know will give me a shot, steering clear of certain ppl during certain times bc i know what i will be.  a zombie nodding out who doesn’t need to eat or drink or move.  a person who can’t think a thought to completion, a person who loses her voice and desire.   but somedays those things are ripped away from me without my consent, and i am left in pain and in a sea of despair.  somedays i need a lifejacket bc my feet can no longer tread this water.  the fight is running out of me.  i am tired.  i am losing a battle in which my enemy is myself, living inside me attacking me on all fronts, systematically killing my hope and happiness, my faith my desires and my will.  it is not fair to put my loves through another 5 year oblivion, and i know that.  that thought alone has sustained my sobriety this long.  the knowledge that seeing me fail at life gives them reason to falter is all i have left.  i am no longer holding on for myself, only for the loved ones.  hopefully they are enough.  today they are enough, or at least at this moment.  i don’t want to fall again, i don’t want to show them it’s over.Image

just to stop the pain

shadows dancing on the window sill

too many nights howling at the moon

too many times of screaming into the pillow

seven circles around the oak

how could it come to this

outrage and indignation

vice grips tighten at different rates

along the length of bones

shaking

crying

legs dancing

shallow breath

whispering prayers to end it

just end it

prove me wrong!

show me how

you exist in this madness

stopping only to vomit

it’s the sickness of wellness

the sickness of ages

how did you become a junkie?

the more important question

what moral demon caused this

what sin

leads to scratching and writhing

nodding and burning the bed

how did you escape

the downtown shuffle