To Write Content

“Am I really contemplative,

Or am I just great not having anything to say?”

Often in moments of self-doubt,

This what I’m ironically contemplating.

As I shake out my pen,

I find that desire isn’t enough for ink to meet the page.

It’s not until I feel similar to my dried out pen,

As if there isn’t much left,

That the wall that holds back my thoughts is finally destroyed.

I used to truly believe friends are evil,

while it’s a good song title it doesn’t make for a great belief.

But what are you to think,

When those you trusted most ended up being no better than a toxic coral reef?

Friendship has been, and still is at times, a challenge.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t desire friends,

To have a group I can be completely as I am

that i can learn from and teach as well.

I think I’m finding people like this,

But at time there is a distinct problem preventing any relationship.

Myself.

So when you’re your own biggest problem,

What is there to do but contemplate?

And so,

Here I am again.

Thinking, typing, orchestrated maneuvers in solitude.

———————————————————————-

Defense Mechanism (Escaping Freedom)

Like Mr. Bolm screams in my ears,

I marched to the beat of a dead horse.

Onward from somewhere to nowhere important yet so familiar,

I marched into the precious little cage my friend Dolving told me about.

 

I’ve done it before,

Many a times before.

And it’s never done me any good,

But like a loyal customer to a drug dealer;

I need my fix.

 

Blood stains and dries on my fingers,

No longer is it defining of anything;

It’s but a messy memory,

Waiting to be washed away.

 

Regrets pile like skulls on a battlefield,

Questions arise from the residents of a graveyard.

Walkers resemble the pace I can keep on this path I’m trying to go on,

But luckily I’m not sick just challenged.

If that makes sense.

 

I’m out of breath,

I don’t want to run anymore.

Come what may,

In the fields or by the Bay.

————————————————————————————————

He is no Longer With Us

What do you do when you need someone to support you,

And the need is from the place of discovering your incapability of supporting others?

What do you do when the ones that love you most,

Are the ones you’re least able to receive love from?

What do you think,

When the only logic you have to base your thoughts on is skewed & jaded?

 

If doubt paid as a career,

I’d be a millionaire.

Quite possibly a billionaire,

But I doubt it’d last.

 

I’m an ornament in the house of chaos,

On display for only shadows of mankind to see;

If they ever slow down for a moment,

To think or breathe.

 

Most of not all I know seems to be faulted and/or fractured,

But when your broken what can you expect?

Is abandonment the solution,

Or just the diving board on the cliff top?

Is there a point to asking questions,

If answers never come?

———————————————————————————————-

If anyone who actually knows me takes the time to read this, even despite the slightly misanthropic or apathetic tone of the above words; I commit the limited honor I may possess with you and ask that you believe me when I say, suicide is far from my future or possibility. The finite nature of life makes my embracing death voluntarily trivial, incredibly irrational, and ridiculous among other things. I enjoy learning through discovery, but the discoveries aren’t always enjoyable. A discovery I’m fully making today is the damage my jaded state of mind has caused/is causing to my life and relationships. I’m officially, completely aware that receiving love is one of the hardest for me to do; while it is also one of my deepest desires to not only receive but give love to others. I don’t really know what this means, or where exactly to go from here. But, I must keep moving.

Heart Punch

I heard it,

Saw it,

Tasted it,

Even smelled it…..

But I chose to deny it.

Once discovery hits you though,

And suddenly knowledge has hit your intellect as well as your emotions.

Maybe this isn’t perfect,

There’s no science to it;

I’m just saying for this discovering moment.

 

Why do we leave our hearts out to be dissected,

Typically by a killer in a surgeons clothing?

One of us is the killer,

And our weapon of choice is the best of intentions.

It was never meant to be this messy,

But now we can deny it away just we denied everything until this point;

Or we can choose to move forward,

Different than we’d prefer or ever imagine but not thriving off of only lies.

 

Redirect the force,

Don’t try to intercept it or control it.

Face it honestly & humbly,

And leave the grasp of danger unsatisfied.

 

Most often, if not always, the only way to learn about handling pain;

is through Suffering first.