Unbespoken 2: Why do I miss trust?

I leave you alone for five minutes.
Look at all the shit you’ve done
Almost went and destroyed all of the hard work
Look at all the havoc you’ve brung
All the things you say about us.
You can’t even separate it from reality
It’s never as bad as it seems
But you just make it so much worse than it oughta be
That shit in your mind?
That you keep locked up?
But those remarks is gonna haunt you
The longer you’re zipped up, it’s fucked up
And as soon as it’s all that you can take
Our mind’s gonna break.
Harder than your fist against that hole in the wall
A hole in your soul and you think you gonna fill it all
Telling no one about the anger, frustration, and disappointment
I’m appalled.
That you can even think you’re even a functional person at all
If loneliness is just a payment, then the debt’s paid in full
The longer you think we’re normal’s gonna take it’s toll.
You’ve never had a good thought not followed by a premonition
It’s almost as if these invasive thoughts are your religion
You worship them, searching for the answers, your salvation
You never listen to anyone else but them,
Listening to no false witness
I always take care of business,
but the pain is too much with this
I can’t even think straight.
Stumbling like I’m drunk, sipping on depression
I still get lost in the information.
Overwhelmed in an idea infestation
Manifest mutation
Problematic proclamation
Destitute destination
Interrogatory instigation
Just praying if there’s any hope for any reconciliation
Finally at my worst, I stare at the mirror in desparation,
I ask.

Is all I hear, could it be more clear?
Seven years bad luck ain’t no price paid over blood and tears
The glass shatters, unable to still or steer
My inner mechanism’s continuously grinding gears,

My illusory phantasm reappears,
A solemn reminder for when it gets severe.
A living nightmare, that I’m holding dear,
Burns and sears in my flooding fears,

I desperately want to persevere,
And I’m being sincere,
But in trying to interfere,
I just end up choking myself
In my own atmosphere,
Until there’s nothing left of me;

I disappear.

The silence echoes far beyond my ears
And now nobody else can hear.

Why do I gotta be like this? My mind goes to the worst
Sure I’ve been hurt before, this ain’t the first
But If I can’t trust anyone, then why bother
Trying to convince my mind to try another
Getting close is gonna painful for me
It’s getting to be too much for an old disdainful me
It ain’t because they do anything to make me distrust them
It’s because of my predilection towards mistrust, I misjudge them
I’ve mistrusted this trust, I’ve missed trusting this trust
I’ve been too unjust, I’ve always too cautious
And I’m afraid it’s gonna hurt you that I’m so untrusting
But I wanna give you a chance, I’m adjusting
I wanna believe you’re the one I’m entrusting
You with a piece of my mind, just a piece, so you know
That it goes a long way for me to even begin to show
My side that just wants to be careful of you
As you should be, but at least this side is true
You’ll never see this side of me do
Anything dishonest or anything to hurt you

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Anaesthetic 12: Undelivered Love Letter

Dear love, -the words I write cannot pen your significance to me.
My thoughts are incomprehensible to describe your inner beauty.
And so my every thought of you I’ve attempted to compile,
In this letter, is my failure to express anything worthwhile.

When I look at your face, oh where do I begin?
Just the thought of your smile and wide grin,
Brings my belly butterflies beating their beautiful span,
Floating petal to petal, eight in total, again and again.
Your strong hands I held that revealed a ragged love past,
Hand in hand, working towards making this modest love last.
Offering each other simplicity was all I could ever ask for,
And a soul to talk to at night when stranded in a downpour.
Looking longingly at the moon, I wondered my little game.
If the mysterious moonlit sky for you and I was the same.
And when the sun shines through the fog in the hazy dawn,
You wanted to ask me to brave the fog on your front lawn.
Oh how I wanted to be there arm in arm in the early morning
And wander aimlessly without any direction, without caring.
How happy we were, it seemed to go on without end,
I thought I had truly found love, and my greatest friend.

With love… 

The list we made of all the things we wanted to do together
Will likely remain a memory in this little letter forever, however.

If you had just left me to wonder, would I still be the same?
Would my mess of a life be nearly as messy if you never came?
The only way we realize our own loneliness
Is to have it in stark contrast with its antithesis
Staying locked away hours writing the words I write
Waxing reflexive on this page all day and all night
I think it is finally time to end what I held so dear
So I can finally vanquish the very thing that I fear
But now in the present I can finally thank you so much
For what have I learned since we’ve last touched:

I thought I wanted my heart ripped out,
torn to shreds, bled red in my death bed.
What need was there for it after all this?
The fear of being the only one able to hurt you,
was the same fear of you wounding me grievously,
And yet I feel completely deserving of that pain.
I thought I would rather the blow be dealt swiftly,
Lest my heart be able to love again.
It would be better than the cold bitterness I felt thusly,
It once was a dull and pulsating pain,
An aching anxiety that never once could leave me.
The fear of losing you was the only thing that mattered.
Hopeless, helpless, useless: How futile they are
in describing this despair of my loss.
But my true loss wasn’t the loss of you
It was the missed opportunity to change someone’s life.
My true despair I fear is that strange feeling.
So rid me of your memory, for my mind was rushing
with the regret I’ve carried since we last spoke.
I was helpless to help ease our doubts about us,
Useless to sate your needs, appease your anger,
and worst of all, hopeless to ease your sorrows.
It left me feeling unable to be a person again,
when you left me in my misery, in silence.

So I ask you, without you, would I be off better:
With love, or without this undelivered love letter?

Anaesthetic 8: Love is Like a Rag

You treat my love like a rag.
Tossed to the side, your hands dried of me.
In the dimly lit corner of your memory,
I waste away. The odor of stagnant air
With mildew is how you remember.

There’s only so much I can absorb
Before my patience runs thin.
You may think you can use me again,
But these delicate fibers have become worn
Distressed to the point of being torn.

Perhaps it’s the thought of discarding someone
That gives that soured look of disgust of yours,
And yet you have the nerve to dispose of those
Wretched feelings and pretend to be ignorant.
Why should you have to sully your hands
With the rubbish from when you didn’t give a damn?

My happiness is wrung dry and yet sopping wet,
Overflowing with sorrow, I hope to borrow
That trait of yours where you toss into the bin
Any sense of accountability and even then,
It is a hopeless endeavor to polish the past
With a ragged love that was never meant to last.

Anaesthetic 4: Still Life

It’s really not fair.
A still life photograph just gets to be.
Nothing moves, and yet it gets to feel alive.
A great photo. One that lives beyond its scene,
But the photo of this sad woman is inert.
She has to keep her lethargic expression
Forever, an entire lifetime in the same place.
She festers in her unhappiness for all eternity.
I wonder if she had the capacity to feel content
With not having to ever be taunted by happiness;
Feelings that are so fleeting and so out of reach.
How lucky is she to not be tempted by such folly
I don’t get to move on.
The finality of still life was enviable.
The subjects were nudged, just so, into the right position.
Instead, I was stuck in an infinite loop, a living nightmare,
Like that moment of time was paused, rewound, and played,
Over and over; slides were shown until each cell deteriorates.
I can’t just forget about it.
It melts into the frames and that moment of time
Burns into my cheeks, the searing wetness of droplets,
The hot sorrowful stream flows from my eyes
Burns in more still than any photograph in my mind
And becomes more vivid and real than any memory.
 Acting as though nothing ever happened.
I can’t look you into the eyes as I once did.
I don’t get to feel the sudden rush of joy as I had before
And you were the thief that robbed that pleasure from me,
But where your eyes are, I don’t get to see a face any longer.
All I can see is everything that was, everything that used to be
My vision fades as I drift in and out of that time and place
As my mind constantly plays my heartbreak on repeat.
No closure.
I don’t want anything from you, ever,
What I truly want is to never want anymore.
What I never want is what I still have.
To have that moment erased forever
So I can go back to looking at faces like faces
and start thinking about the past as the past
and I can finally leave then back then.
I want to live now like it’s now
I want to breathe my breaths
and I want to cry my cries
and sob for the present
Then collapse inward
And avoid contact
With you
But…

Memory betrays
There’s never enough in frame
Life is not still life.

Thanks to Kayla for the awesome header photo!

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Anaesthetic 2: Nocturne

The days I can’t find. I’ve looked;
I cannot see beyond the pillow.
I’ve tried and tried, but in my dreams
Are my dreams; My aspirations are of sleep.
During the day fall is my night rise,
Wakefulness is my fight, my solemn right,
and my struggle, what trouble.
The musings of malcontent
Infesting my consciousness
Like the nightcrawlers writhe.
Beneath my feet, the centipedes,
And all other things that impede
hide under the folds, nooks and crannies
of the darkest parts of my being.
Above me, the moths breed
In my fleeting thoughts of recluse.
Within my eyelids, I find refuge
 And my only respite is when
The day stays away and my night stays night.

Promise 8: Blank

Illuminated by a blank white screen
my reflection. The void staring back at me.
I see the lines on the display, like needles.
that prick my skin, I bleed not blood, but tears.

From my eyes, I scrape the disbelief away.
My heart in blank and my few thoughts,
fraught with frustration, my mind in blank.

As vacant as the bright white screen,
Blank as the sheet I wrote this poem on,
and about as painless as the clean slice
of the paper through and in between my fingers.

One look at my hands and I feel my index finger well up
with anticipation as I pinch the sides. Nothing.
A bloody disappointment, Not even a droplet.
It’s my writing hand that steadily holds the pen.
It remains frozen in place, with nothing to say.

Blank are my thoughts as I read the lines unwritten,
that would send all my happy thoughts to ruination.
Blank as the time before and blank as it was after it happened.
As void and empty as I wish it was after it was said and done.

I wish it could have been that blank like it was before.
and I could pretend that it never happened at all. Forget.
I could carry my vacuous smile when everything was so simple.

I wish to be so blissfully ignorant,
but now I try only to think of blank
Because blank is all I want to think of you.

Anaesthetic 1: Red Lipstick

7/31/17 11:34 PM


Put on some lipstick,
The kind that real women pick.
Now take it off, it makes me sick.
It has to be red. Nothing else.
What’s that on your face?
Have I told you what I think?
You’re more beautiful without make-up
but your lipstick, should be red.
Don’t ever look down, Don’t frown
You should always have your chin held high.
Why? You’re not allowed to be sad because you should smile
and those smiling lips of yours have to be red.
That dress of yours is quite revealing,
You really should wear a shirt over it.
I don’t want them to look at you like that.
But open up the front a bit to show off your chest;
I don’t want you to attract too much attention
and I don’t want them looking at your red lips.
8/1/17 5:52 PM

I put on black lipstick when you tell me when I should wear red.
And the next time I wear red for you, my lips will drip red.
Red from the lipstick and red from the spit blood splatter,
Bit and bled, solemnly read from my bleeding red lips.