Finally, Someone Understands This Sentiment

Trust yourself. A diagnosis of a mental illness somehow diminishes this ability. Saps your self-confidence. You lose your sense of self. This is one of the worst residuals of a psychiatric diagnosis and most shrinks don't get it. Part of the treatment morphs into part of the disease. It's almost intractable after it's happened.

~Sandy Naiman

*I know I've kept this blog for my own poetry writing, but honestly, these words struck me so much that they may as well be poetry. Thanks Sandy

To D.

You're ashamed
And I want to hold you
But you're locked in a cell
No matter where you are
Always imprisoned
You've lived your life
Like a trapped wolf
Trying to chew it's leg off
And it's over
Time to be free
You can't yet see that
But the sun still rises
Followed by the moon
And each day
That passes
The chemicals slowly balance out
But it's slow
Because there is no catalyst
But I swear to you now
That just like the moon rises
Bringing with it the night
The sun will rise
Soon after
Hold on, okay?

My Big Sister

Fear
Only fear
Just fear
But this fear
Has become a big sister
Holding me close at night
And whispering sweet nothings
In my ear
Promising me
She is only concerned with my safety
And I take her advice
But something is wrong
And my maternal
Self-imposed guide
Has revealed herself
Limiting
Critical
Controlling
And I want to
Run with bravery
Through this life

Hibernate

Go because I must
Do things because I can't not
There are no options
And I am hateful
Yet grateful
Because in my nihilistic existence
My only goal
Is to not break their hearts
But I can't see anything
Under the snow
And would rather hide
Under blankets
With the lights out
Blind to the world
And my heart
Drifting into peaceful sleep
With vivid dreams
Until I dreamt no more

Fucking Winter.

A gray, dreary day
Calm
Not accompanied by peace
But rather with malaise
Ennui
and boredom
Intolerable frustration
With a lack of motivation
My soul has taken on its bleak environment
Using the snow as a blanket
And freezing up
This time, however
There are no circular white 125 mg lifeboats
For quick escape from this sinking ship

Clinging to memories of a recent past
When I confessed
To myself
To him
And to the universe
That I had found renewed hope
Which had escaped me for quite a while
It seems but only a dream
As most things do
And I'm tempted to ask him
If this is one of those things
That really happened
Or if I merely dreamt it

Prodded earlier
To try to figure out
What I was going to do with my life
I gave out half-assed, vague
Insincere responses
Because this all-consuming ennui
Makes me only hope
That life ends soon
Tired, bored, frustrated
And wondering even if
I had those horrific little lifeboats
Would I even have the energy
To paddle anywhere?

The Experiences of Elders (Or, 'Maybe Jon Doesn't Really Yearn to Leave Kate and their Kids)

The elders of our lifetime
Are supposed to have all the answers
By virtue of the fact
That they've been there before

But its one life
In one lifetime
One experience
One path

What if
There are more paths?
Many experiences?
Many souls?
Many outcomes?

Where do you look for guidance
When your heart is inexperienced
And the hearts of others
Have been tainted
Biased
By pain
And betrayal
And death
And all the things
Life inevitably brings us
Though we clamor desperately
To avoid them
Navigating life
Like walking through
A minefield

My heart can't be right
Because at best
It's an estimated guess
More likely however
Just an optimistic
Hopeful
Idea
An ostrich sticking its head in the sand

Theirs, though
Has all possibilities
Narrowed into the one
That happened
Does that mean
Other possibilities
Were never possibilities at all

They say
There's something to be said for experience
Is that just because
It's merely a compass for
Navigating the minefield?

And maybe its time to take
This one life
One lifetime
One experience
And stop seeing it
As a minefield
And start
Welcoming every dent
Bruise
Tear
This heart will encounter

I'll shed tears
And call it living
I'll become angry
And call it my true self
And then I'll repress it all
Telling myself
That none of this
NONE OF THIS
Ever mattered
In the first place

Remember, Darling, You Just Have to Let Go of the Outcome

What if
It isn't over
Because it was never over
And will never ever be over?
What if
The smile is always a facade
Because that's all it ever was
And all it can ever be?
What if
This is all just a delusion
Just like optimism
Or religion?
And what if honesty
The very thing you're convinced
Will make me more attractive to you
Is the same thing
That will make you turn away?

Good Riddance Asshole

I smile
Because like a wildcat who realized
He'd rather chase than hunt
And left his prey unharmed
He's gone
You're sad
Because an imposing, extreme man
Has proved himself to be imposing and extreme
And you can't understand why

Confession

I stole his favourite shirt
One night while he was sleeping
To adorn the life-sized voodoo doll
I had built of him
The shirt is destroyed now
Ripped all through the chest

....I hope in the midst of the heart attack
He doesn't notice his shirt is missing

Phone Turmoil

Last week, you promised me you'd call
So I waited by the phone
Waited and waited
Telemarketers kept calling me
But you never did
Just telemarketers
Wanting money, wanting time, wanting something
I got so sick of it all
That I ripped the phone cord right out of the wall
And smashed the phone into little bits
That was last week
You still haven't called me
But then again
No one has

Love is Never Unconditional

You had always said
You were accepting
For a while, you were
You accepted
That I'm a pathological liar
That I killed a stripper one night
Even that I'm xenophobic
But... that third eyeball
In the back of my head
Hidden by my hair
Well... you weren't so accepting about that

Paradoxical

Finally, it feels like
We got something right somehow
Amidst the fighting
And the arguing
And the debating
Opposite ends of the spectrum
... And we've never been closer

The Possibilities are Endless..

The end of the semester
I feel alive
I am free
I can do anything!
So I'm reading internet comics
And watching tv-
a show about women who are getting plastic surgery
because they are unhappy with the aging process
I'd like to tell them a little secret...
... we are all going to die anyways...
Or perhaps just whisper in my best stage voice
That they look like clowns now
With an unnatural nose and ungodly huge lips

Morally Speaking...

Last night we concluded I was a nihilist
So nothing matters
What I do doesn't matter
What you do doesn't matter
And that I accidentally ran over your cat with my car...
... That doesn't matter either.

The Path of a Merry-Go-Round Horse

Merry-go-Rounds
By virtue of being a
Merry-Go-Round
Always move in a circular motion

Last night we moved
Completely in sympatico
As we explored each others' bodies
Inside and out
In ways that left us sweating
And gasping
And wanting more

And when you tried to access
My proverbial cavities
I painted you a lovely impression
Rivaling anything Monet ever did
That left you wanting more
In the worst kind of way

You held your head in your hands
As my heart silently broke
Deep within my chest
My willingness to show you everything
Cheapened because I won't let you see through my eyes

You don't ask why anymore
But I haven't stopped my search
For not just any answer
But the answer

Is it because I learned
Emotion is a tsunami
Waiting to wipe out
All your objextivity
Not to mention your sanity
Quicker than a heartbeat?

We sit now
You
Satisfied and unsatisfied
In a sick paradox
That is my creation
And I
Yearning
For the Merry-Go-Round horse
Which I've put you on
To break off this cyclical ride
And take flight
Rocketing you
Into my universe

A Dark Night

Opposite poles repel
Not attract
Yet my lack of substance
Leaves me without any sense of
Desire or disgust
Just a mere musing
...Am I empty...?
...Is there any love...
...To be had...
... By me...?

This is life
In all its pragmatism
Dis-ease
Melancholy
As she tries to pull me
Down to earth
Reminding me
To pay the bills
Go to the dentist
Go to work
Save for retirement
Yet still, I am lost in the stars
Only...
... They're dimmer now
Somehow

She says it's because
I'm truly alone
And merely faking
An open heart
Do I desire
A life of plenty?
A life of one?
A life of solitude?
Do I choose freely?
Or is it just that
Like the stars
My options have dimmed?

Looking outside
Upon the snow globe world
The pragmatism of life
Piercing my very core
And I wish it had never existed
For me
At all

Sitting On Your Bed When You're Not Home

Her dazzling the piano keys
Sometimes turns to pounding
In an outburst of emotion
And I feel empty and shallow
Just to have those emotions
Flutter through my ears
On their way into the universe
Each time I hear her, I want to be her
The way she finds a way to voice every thought
Every emotion
In a charming and relateable way
I want to do that
I want to be her
For you

Two nights ago
You asked me where I've gone
What's going on
And why I don't say much of anything
Anymore
I bit my lip and looked at the streetlight
Scrounging within my soul
To grasp my truth

You told me last night
You felt stagnant
I didn't speak then either
Because I lost my breath
Is it me that leaves you feeling
Like still water with algae
Pooling around the edges
Turning the clear blue
Into green ooze?
So I put my arm around you instead
Praying my touch could convey
My fears and my deepest feeling

... I don't want to lose you...

Boxing is 90% Mental and 10% Physical... Usually...

A yearning, a desire
Welling up from my core
So that even though we are relaxing on your bed
Spending a Sunday as Sundays should be spent
I cannot sit still
From the moment I awoke this morning
(beside you, as you slumbered)
My body was aflutter
Driven by the need to do something
What is that something?
Unnameable
Though I cannot rest until
It has been satisfied

So here I sit
The only thing betraying a disquieted mind
Is a disquieted body
My jittery limbs
Speaking the words
I'll not yet give voice to
Because though I am driven
To speak my truth
I'm not prepared
To hammer it down
Donning the proverbial
Boxing gloves

Procrastination

Work?
Shirk.

Sometimes the Stranger

Sitting across from
The stranger
Is easy
Sitting, talking
Ever so sly
Avoiding the details
Dodging the questions
Creates a mysterious air
And a hint of a challenge
All leading you to think
That you've fallen in love
With me
My cheshire cat smile
I remain unknown
And I am comfortable
In my cloak basking in your smile...

Things change
The passage of time
And you are not the stranger anymore
And inevitably my cloak must come off
Because you're not smiling anymore
Naked, my soul is bared
And I am so very vulnerable
No air of mystery
No longer
Do you think you love me
And I find myself yearning
To be the stranger
Once more

The Injustice of a Toxic Love

Ten years and countless heartaches later
His presence still lingers
Like a ghost in the armchair in the dusty dark corner
Or like the eyes in the portrait
Seemingly following you
Wherever you go
One last gift
Toxic and eroding
The very part of you that
You were sure he stole years earlier
Things go wrong
Things are always hard
And now, a new roadblock
My heart aches for you, my dear
Through phone calls
something's wrong
And biopsies
Love shouldn't hurt
Love shouldn't ever do this
But this, we know now
Was never, ever love
Ten years and countless heartaches later
He's still inside you
In more ways than one

4 am

Dismayed, disillusioned and appalled
The clock strikes 4
And the mad woman emerges
CUCKOO CUCKOO
The slow melody from the stereo
Begins to skip and break
Not unlike the life we share
Frustration and heartbreak grab my glass
And whip the stagnant whiskey against the wall
The stream trails down
To form an inlet in the corner
Where I huddled many a night
As I bartered my sanity to keep on loving you
The scenes play over and over
Like a horror movie I can't shut off
And a voice in my head
That sounds oh so much like you
Taunts me incessantly for compromising myself
Again and again
Just to keep you around
Headlights from a car driving in the world outside
Cast shadows on the wall that continue dancing
Long after the revving engine can no longer be heard
You know something funny? The only tale sicker than our epic is
Oedipus Rex. But he was fated- what's your excuse?
I try to imagine what the unknown sensation
Of you holding me would feel like
As I try to convince myself that one of the voices
Is you whispering that you really do love me
Even after everything
Only I can't feel it
The strange numbness has set in
The one that takes me over only when I think of you
(A defense mechanism, no doubt)
The voices cackle

How Much Do I Take For Granted?

Eyes closed and tight lipped
I picture you
Way back when there was a magic fog
(Later to settle as dust
Over the finer things in this room
And this life)
Your eyes stare at my fumbling fingers
As mine are cast to the spider web
In the upper corner
No denying that we don't
See eye to eye
But you'll stroke my knee
And I'll rub your back
And we'll look at each other
By the time I lay down at night
With your arms around me
Your warm breath on my neck
I'll see that fog
Yet again
Promising that tomorrow
I'll dust the room