Giddyup

Not until the lines on the edges get blurred
not until they're waving and bending
                                            calling
When the bright lights go dim
when the colors fade
the sounds fizzle
                   trickle away
A pain
a twitch
a puff of smoke
unsatisfying
    swollen
The little piles of time lying before me
things gathered together
unorganized stuff
used but not broken
wasted
    chewed
I think of my bed
the things I might dream of
the process to complete
the movements
still my feet stick to the ground
stubborn
     glued

ColOars

Creative
To be creative
To create.
To see the visible colors
To see the colors no one else does
To pour your imagination out of yourself through your eyes and onto the world in front of you
To create.
Being creative
When your hands and your eyes and your mind all become one thing
To know that in the tiniest of places lays the largest wonder.
Smiling
Smiling hard at the world and knowing that's all it takes to alter it.
Thinking creatively
Feeling your idea build up inside of you and pour out of you exploding in all directions
Seeing
Seeing is believing
Believing your impalpable thoughts will become tangible.

Writhe

Pressure like gravity's senseless hand squeeze
Sweat hits the head before the rest of the body
You think
Death
Sooner than expected but expected
Aches like organ failure
like life leaving
You think
Fuck
Shoulda coulda woulda
Then it's passed
Back to pissy tunnel vision
A distraction
a cigarette
a bite to eat
Water
Water will fix this
Fooled again
Stand up fast
Feet tingle and head spins
You think
Death

You've self loathed yourself here and self diagnosed your way out again
Rinse and repeat
and repeat
Cyclical hypochondria like wheel spoke expectation
Then nothing
back and forth and around
At this point you know this is you and this is me

Tweedle Bruhi

Looking up to your monument of white granite
standing beneath the majesty of construction and grandeur
I'm in awe
for a moment
Lost but not quite gone
Soon the white marble peels and falls away
the concrete and steel are exposed
The bars my eyes once could not see now visible
Your hopeful smile now looks more like a smirk
the waving flag once a beacon of hope is the blindfold over my eyes
it's the plastic bag over my head from which I gasp.

Inoperable

These devices left to me
passed down
contraptions all
tinkered with
toyed
sparking smoldering fritzed
alien and complex
yielding no freedom
exposing no answers
asking no questions

Like a disappointed child on Christmas morning
feeling guilty and selfish
cheated
not what I wanted but the best that could be given
something is better than nothing written on my face
the giver's paper thin smile an inadequate dam holding back shameful tears
no one speaks the thoughts thickly fogging the room we sit and stare in
this is the best we can do


Left to me these devices lay unfixed
not my own but mine.

Museic

Waves of sound fill this space intentionally
I want this sound around me
I need focus
I need some time
The Tempo brings an almost panic to my insides
I love hate it

Neurasthenia

wondering
a distant place unknown
but familiar
a painfully peaceful place
distant now my mind leaves my body
the body functioning sporadically
a choppy remote signal from the mind
static
gray and white bits convulsing on top of each other
the crumpled hiss
the only thing connecting the two

my mind gliding through the air of the unknown
thoughts like bombs fall and hit the ground
patternless impacts
vibrations shatter the landscape
desolate as the moon
craters haunted by a nothingness

deep in the distance I can hear the chewing of something
the fingers tapping on something
the words of another something
the real and unreal coexisting abnormally
churning over each other
tumultuous waves unsatisfied with position
the two worlds fighting
interrupting each others existence
all differentiating lines phased out
chaos
surreal chaos
an ocean of imagination and the tangible
a place longed for and from which there is no escape
distant and unknown
but familiar