Introspectivity.

It always starts out with,
that involuntary twitch,
eyes popping,
nervous rocking,
hard to catch my breath;

This much accursed gift,
heart haywire, mind adrift,
engine sputter,
pulse aflutter,
can’t run away from it;

A sand that’s too fine to sift,
these hands: too broken to lift,
no motivation,
slow salvation,
beyond a dark, longstanding rift;

Steaming piles of shit,
line my pathway to its pit,
a one way road,
on the map I hold,
of a soul that’s counterfeit.

I Do.

My life fell to little pieces when my mom died, truly…for what felt like so long (but was only a few months in actuality), I had only my oversized German Sheperd to wake up for in the mornings. He kept me going through the motions of life when I lacked the motivation to live.

Taking care of my dying mama made it impossible to avoid the anticipated grief that eventually enveloped me. I knew it was coming, and when it came, I guess I kinda leaned into it, didn’t I? Because there I was with empty pockets, a hollowed heart, and a head full of various regrets.

And, out of the clear blue sky, dropped a bomb that exploded in my heart and soul. I met HIM. This counterpart to my every light and darkness; All punk rockabilly, A humaninty-soaked bartender, A man of any trade, A sense of humor that is fucking hilarious and a story (we all have a story) that’s very real. I fell in love: true love – in real life – face to face – with this insanely sexy and incredible man who walked into my world by total surprise when I had hit the bottom. Things seemed right. And they were.
We made each other.
We were happy just being together.

And then, his town burnt down and he went away. Away from me. The “we” that we’d created disappeared into the night of my life’s dreams …and it was over. Again, I walked around half empty, half dead.

Then, I found him again.

Still Eating Thorns.

All this time

in between

then and now

been simmering

been building up

rather patiently

brooding silently

been grinding teeth

been stomping feet

been digging holes

with an upward swing

eating poisonous things,

picking thorns from trees,

like a blended sugarcane,

DMT, bonfires and peyote,

cigars and syringes,

sparkling fringes,

champagne, cocaine,

and pornography,

somewhere out there,

fathomed too deep,

Where I hardly sleep,

And maybe it’s killing me,

how my eyes stay closed,

mouth neatly sewn,

over words of my own,

this place is forsaken,

this space can’t be taken,

the loose change shaken,

from the secret pockets,

sewn neatly in my cheeks.

Flounder.

I’ve been circling the moldy, plankton encrusted bottom layers of life; feeding off of the slowly sinking debris that once littered the surface layers: the leftovers of a long-ago feast that I attended up there.

My vision has adapted to the murk; my breathing has adjusted to the oxygen depletion of dangerous depths and harrowing heights; my skin has settled into the wrinkled prune-esqueness of an over-long bubble bath; my hair now growing shafts of seaweed and tangly kelp in place of it’s natural fibers.

I’m a flounder, living with a great white shark who is lazy with a eating disorder; I am stuck in the suction of his hefty submerged wake; I am seemingly happy to gobble up the chunks of shit that fall from the sides of his razor sharp bite as he chews incessantly; I am his shadow down here.

Vacuum.

All at once,

Like a sucker punch,

Surprise, it’s like,

It says so in my eyes,

“Please tell me lies”,

All the same,

Never owning the blame,

It’s true, it’s like,

I saw it way before you,

Subtract one from two,

All in time,

On a clock that’s behind,

And now, it’s like,

Father Time won’t allow,

Still stuck on stupid somehow.

Been.

Been feeling rather

like I’ve been,

tossed out with the trash again,

been hearing laughter

inside my brain,

for getting played like a slot machine,

been taking refuge

in a jackal’s den,

naked, with a so-called gentleman,

been driven into

the wall again,

petal to the metal into the median,

been feeling nothing

but pure obscurity,

a vague and insecure uncertainty,

been here wondering

ponderously,

imprisoned by my own duplicity,

been tapping constantly

on the keys ‘til my fingers bleed,

to dispel the hurt I’ll feel inevitably,

been like, yeah – well, maybe,

I’ve been shafted again,

 sour, that out-dated milk carton,

been eating candy,

vainly, to try and sweeten,

the taste of my faith going quickly rotten.