It Kills Me

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3 perfect scratches
Not made by me
And it kills me
It’s all I see
2 perfect catches
I wish I’d never caught
The lie is comfortable
Though illusion was taught
Reality is I know more about you
By what you don’t say
By what you don’t choose
And even used
At the end of the day
I am content
I am comfortably bent
Yes it kills me
You are all I can see
Your love fills me
And I despise my need
My love kills me
You are the best I’ll ever be…

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I Am Here

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If I could only sleep, I think it would all go away. The reruns and the constant self-flaying bullshit – until all my head is, is cotton wool and storm drains; ebbing always away and into nothing. So that I am nothing – only a vast ocean of my bad choices and guilt. And really, how else are we supposed to live, if not to acknowledge our misdeeds and the fault lines that lay within all of us? To pick at it until it explodes? See how much pressure it can take… realistically.
Emotional pressure points – God only knows until we do too, and fuck up anew.

I watched a movie based on a novel by Stephen Elliot, it has the lines: “Validation is a helluva thing..” and he answers “The truth is fucked up”. And that’s my entire life in two sentences – I’m constantly trying to validate what I’ve already fucked up, and continue to fuck up on a daily basis. Because I cannot sleep so I cannot process so I cannot heal or find the sense in my actions.
Mostly though, it’s just me; inside my head, berating myself on every level. And let’s face it, who would want that kinda shit as a daily cheerleader? Bound to get tangled inside of words and actions and dreams and disillusionment that just go nowhere. Except, here. I am here.

Wide awake and terrorised by my own thoughts. My imagination is a scarey and wondrous place.
I would prefer not to live there.

But, I do.
I am.
I am here.

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The Universe

Alive.
The Universe has mothered me,
used me, tested me, orphaned
me, disappointed me, helped me grow and appreciate, taught me about
loss, hurt me, exalted me,
shown me people who are
precious and those who are
cruel. I’ve lived, facilitated,
worked, learned, delighted in wondrous things, nurtured,
listened and hidden away. I’ve
fought demons and been
embraced by Angels. Now I’m
awake again. The Universe will
notice and It will call upon me..
My heart is tender, my No
louder, my Yes Prouder. Here I
am: Alive. Bless Me!

Posted By PastelPoetry from WordPress © 2001

The Ghost of You

The Ghost of You
The ghost of you…visits uninvited
Adrenaline spikes, frightened
They told me I am strong enough
To break free
No warning that I’d feel a twitch,
Where you used to be
They never said how long is enough
To separate you from me
They never explained the phantom itch
Where your source used to be
I trusted when I was unsure
I rusted from inside, denied cure
I lusted in the longest nights
Tormented thoughts relay slights
It didn’t diminish
It didn’t help finish
The tale that was we two
Or the ending that stays too new
Even as days turn; months to years
And I’m replaced by memory
This trickery
Will be my death
On knees I will confess
And the Ghost I see
Will not be confused,
The mirror I believe
Or shadows I choose
This contemplation of loss
Is in my mind, and I watch
A spectator sport
This choice, this last resort
Finds how to say goodbye
While I Disallow hope,
Scourge clean caustic soap
To carry on, as always
Even Exempted, I’m less these days
I brake, I fail, I call
The best of my love,
Was my greatest fall

Photo:
Little Blue by Aimee Stewart

Posted By PastelPoetry from WordPress