coping

This Cutting

Folder: 
Depression/sadness

I know what I'm doing

is seen as very wrong,

but there's something

about it that draws me in....

 

The feeling of pain

when i touch the blade

against my skin,

 

the sight of the blood

popping up to the surface

as i drag the blade,

 

the sensation of both

panic and calm,

mixing together

in my mind.

 

 

I know I shouldn't

do this,

but I actually like it

 

The way my skin heals

and then leaves a scar behind,

to remind me:

 

I'm still here,

I'm still alive,

I still bleed,

I still heal.

 

I'm not gone,

I'm not dead,

I'm not bloodless,

I'm not unfixable....

 

 

This cutting 

makes me feel again...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is not fictional.... it's how I actually feel.. Please let me know what you think, or how you think i can improve it.

Cope

Weak people revenge,
Strong people forgive,
And intelligent people inspire.

 

 

 

 

 

© May 13, 2013 10:57 AM

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tags:

"Sails in Flight"

The sails flutter like dove's wings

gently pulled by a breath of autumn

that couldn't help but add the same permeation

of joviality that she gave me long before.

 

She was a shade of nightfall

that shimmered like a burnished star,

similar to that of a jade stone

under a million burning lighters.

 

Watching these rising waves

as they take flight over this metallic vessel,

I can almost hear her whisper

rustling these restless waters.

 

Your soul drifts parallel to these discontented currents,

floating with autonomous felicity;

waves rising and falling with a sensuous absolution,

I can feel your infinite presence, your adagio upon this turbulent sea.

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Fool's Errand

I'm walking the ledge, feet dangling over the edge, again.

Holding on to the rope that's holding on to me.

Wrapped so securely now, breath can't come too fast,

Choking on the knot as it struggles past.

It all dangles so far below.

All the possibilities.

But none of them can ever really be,

Because I can never be the me that should have been.

I've forgotten his face and his feel.

Forgotten what it was like to wear a normal boy's skin..

Too many years spent playing pretend.

But I'm left with his mind and all its crystal sharp brilliance.

Left with the list of failures that are mine to compound.

Left with the sense of an ending, a time that comes,

No more pretending.

All of the would-have-been and maybe-coulds.

All of the best of him, turned to shit.

Just enough left to make it work.

Just enough, to make sure it hurts that much worse.

Knowing what exactly I'm not anymore.

What exactly I lost along the way.

Being left with a handful of gems.

Gems that shine so very bright.

Precious stones I'm told many would kill for.

Little shining stars earning me friends anyone would

Be lucky to have.

These same pieces of soul-torn iridescence,

Are as rupees to most of you.

Rupees held in a shaking hand.

A hand beneath notice.

That believes in its worth, just as you do.

Too many would stare.

Spit upon me as I kneel patiently.

Hands help up hopefully.

Seeking your benediction.

A second chance at a forgone salvation.

Your laughter and your sneers,

At first produced tears and painful confusion.

That became replaced with a hardness one can almost taste,

And the distance of separation,

Between eyes and humanity.

Between mind and reality.

Between healthy mentality.

So he buried his hope in your spit covered sand.

He took his treasures and hid them away too.

First one at a time and then few by few.

He then went away inside himself,

Because sharing your world just hurt so damn much.

He hid and he healed,

Mending the broken best he could,

With spit and some dirt,

With the hateful words you hurled his way.

He fashioned himself a pair of shabby wings.

To the sun he would fly.

He'd soar to the moon and you'd never again get to see him cry.

So far up his tears would be as rain,

Watering the earth,

Feeding the plain.

So high up you'd never have to see him again.

Amongst the stars and the clouds,

With the sun all around,

He could be pretty like you,

And whole inside too.

He'd come back down after days and days.

Months after months.

You'd have forgotten who he was.

Start over again,

This time like it should have been before.

Better, than before.

With a smile on his face; he flew into the sky.

Soared with the birds, though awkward at first. They soon welcomed this dirty one,
Welcomed as kin. Bore him up when his wings would dip. Gave unto him the sacred trust
of guarding their chicks. Many suns came and went, many stories were shared. He learned many things, among them that they could really care for him and his odd ways. That they cared at all.
Soon came the day, they ushered him along. Saying it was time he went and learned, the rest of his song. He wasn't sure what they meant, and it hurt him to leave, but he trusted in their words and their well-wishing ways.

He flew and he flew, arms all but dead. Along came a cloud and offered him a place to rest and be fed.

The cloud was with his family.

It was quickly decided this stranger would have shelter and share in their warmth. The man-boy stayed with cloud family season after season. They showed him their ways. He learned how to nurture the needy with tenderness and care. How winds blown just right can make or break even the strongest of man-things. How to be soft and gentle. How to grow great and dark with a storm held inside you, lightning flashes for your warning, growling rumbles soon to follow. The threat of danger soon to come. How to be still and silent, blowing as the winds take you. The man-boy grew to love them and they grew to love him too.

They saw in him, his lightning, as it was battling his blackened skies. His spirit that was stubborn,
not one to quit fighting. The day soon came, when the man-boy and cloud family, knew it was time for him to go. He would miss them and their different ways. But there was more he needed to learn. Cloud-father left him with the words "A song will only be yours, if your heart can sing along".

Man-boy thanked him and took off, the goal to fly higher still.

He began pondering those words, even as they weighed at him.
"How can my heart sing along when I don't know the words?
I must find the words!", he thought as he flew.

He had vowed to be lovely to look up, and so the man-boy thought of the loveliest thing he knew.
His mind searched and it travelled, far and wide did it go. To the butterflies and their glittering-rainbow clouds of motion, to the sparrows in all of their murmuration fabled brilliance. He thought of the stars in the heavens; gems so much like those he'd left behind and long gone. The loss and the memory, twisted inside him tight and hard; snakes made from shattered dreams and broken glass.
His arms stopped their flapping and he began to fall. For the first time in a long time, he began remembering it all. What caused him to shape his dirty wings; all the tears of burning shame. All the pain he had found down among the man-things. All the joy and love he'd felt once he left that below and behind him. With the thoughts of his journey and the one yet to come, he found the will to flap his wings again; once again higher he flew.

Sunlight shining down from above; began to erase, the tears burning twin trails down his un-pretty face. Blinding him with warm brilliance, holding him in its embrace. He now knew which direction to fly. The sun made everything more beautiful, so perhaps even him. Off man-boy flew to see if it could be true.

So higher and higher he flew. The sun was above him and ahead; so ever westward he went. It sank into the ocean before man-boy ever came close. His heart began sinking as the sun did, his hopes stalled yet again. He swore to try again the next day; found a cloud of which to make his bed. Soon the sun graced the world again, so far to the east. Hopes of beauty to be found began to again live in his chest. Off man-boy flew, his smile renewed in its zest. He flew and he flew and ever closer he grew. Closer he came but there was always further to gain. He flew to the east, and he flew up high. He flew to the west, came back to where he began. Day in and day out, he flew and he tried. Day in and day out, he flew and he cried. The sun ever teased him; offerings always out of reach, if only just. Man-boy tried and he strained, his body burned from the effort.

The wind and the rains bathed him. The sun baked him brown. The flying shaped him strong. The crying rid him of the pain, that had lived in him for so long. He began to hate the sun and its promises; to him in his mind, it had made. Of beauty and being better, freedom from always being so heart-sore. Daily his thoughts were of the sun, and all of His lies. Daily he was consumed with his failures; all of his many failed tries. Daily the sun, rain and water turned his dirty wings into muddy sticks. Daily he had to try harder to fly; notice he never did, no and here's why. He lost himself inside himself as he fixated and obsessed. To wrapped up to notice how he was becoming more even as he became less.

One day his two muddy sticks became one and one stick can't be flapped to fly at all; it was on this day, that he began his greatest fall. The sun didn't blink and he screamed and he cursed. Cloud-family saw him and came to his aid. As they neared him, they shrunk still in place. This wasn't the man-boy they knew; couldn't be who they loved. This creature screaming profanity and filled with hatred; this man-thing must be a mistake. On he fell, confused as they did nothing. Hurt by their silence, confused by their own. Still lower and lower he fell, his bird friends saw him coming; not a single song did they cry. They hurt most of all; for at his silent passing, tears they did cry. The birds saw him and knew him; they knew that they no longer knew him at all.

Still further he fell, ground rushing up from below. As he streaked toward the ground; a falling star, he thought of all he had learned; of the birds and their caring, of their song and his goal of finding his own; that he had left behind somewhere along. He thought of cloud-family and how they made him family, too. He thought of the lessons he had learned, of all of the truths. His own tears began to fall as he realized his folly; all that was shared with him forgotten for nothing. Forgotten in the pursuit of something, he'd already found along the way.

The "Thank you", that spilled from his lips was carried away by the winds. He hoped it would reach the ears of those he loved and he hoped they would forgive him of his man-thing ways. He smiled in sad acceptance just as he struck the earth. It was there they found him in a crater made by his fall; it was there they found him, not broken at all.

He was beautiful and tanned, muscled like a god; as there he sat, broken in the muddy ground. They muttered that it was a shame, a tragic waste and a pity. They couldn't see that inside his broken body; his mind and soul had once again come together; that he was actually for the first time, finally whole.

Only he'd forgotten where his treasures were hidden, no map was there to be found. And he was now stuck with a broken body; nary left an ounce of luck.

But as cloud-family saw; his spirit is strong, not one to quit fighting.

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Plighted Knight

Have you been through barren wind lashing landscape to a place where the only pleasure is pain?
Have you swept through grand illusions of mountainous peaks, romantically doused in valleys?
Have you throbbed and whetted painfully soaking in an untouchable Mire of frenzy in enstasy?
Have you felt numbness broken by searing thoughts of pain-bloated vomittous purges bringing ecstasy?
Have you been so relieved, so rejoiced by knowing you still stir to feel wrapped in delusions so real?
Have you lost the last filtered longing rays of the loving light alone, wondering why so stark?
Have You toiled and panicked and sweated for hours when those illusions left you crying in the dark?
Have you taken to all the corners of your mind digging for the recesses of the lost corners of your light?
Have you schemed and plotted and travelled to chase a glint of memory through the endless night?
Have you burned your eyes in desperation sending beams of longing soul light through those windows?
Have you traced the walls of imagined heights scraping your fingers to the bone, looking for a crack?
Have you forgotten your God, reinvented your religion and realigned the center of your universe in hope?
Have you burned your heart so brightly as a sacrifice in hopeless knowing it will be a lost beacon to the lost?
Then leave me, you can never know my plight.

 

An alternate is *then fuck off- I feel this is more protective but not in keeping with the rest of the work I guess I just have to choose wich one really is the true intent... A difficult conundrum.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The traps of our mind are the most dangerous landscapes to travel. Need a better name -too tired to think if you have an idea youre welcome to share it and your opinion too, honesty is thoroughly appreciated. Thanks.

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