Weary

it would seem to me that this is the time

while wrapped in the sinewy vines.

tangled in the intricate web

of emotions that are suffocatingly loud.

it would seem that these are the moments

when the words would trickle and fall.

down, over and upon me

as if there were no end to the way.

that I could describe these feelings

or find comfort in words.

it’s like pulling teeth tonight

or a rabbit from a hat.

it would take magic to make the words

flow freely from my pen.

it might just be exhaustion

or all of this magnificent change.

a life readjusted and realigned

a world turned upside down.

it might be that all of my comforts

are stored away for now.

the things that I’ve become accustomed

to always having around.

so when tired and weary overtake me

I also become timid and small.

my voice gets very quiet

and I very simply go still.

clinging frantically to consciousness

yet desperately needing sleep.

wanting so badly to let go

yet fearing what will overcome.

I’m about to release a torrent of tears

and then sleep the sleep of the dead.

letting go all that has me twisted within

and struggling to find the words.

let the lifelessness fall upon me

as if I could disappear.

 

 

 

 

 

The Art of Dying

I believe I’ve mastered the art of dying

slowly chipping away pieces.

the jagged parts disconnected

the lines no longer touch,

I’ve believe that I have conquered sadness

I’ve got this one mastered too.

dwelling in darkened places

speaking words of pain.

I know I’ve become despair

on every level of who I am.

at one time or another

it has even been my name.

I’ve learned to cry myself to sleep

in the absence of any sound.

at times it’s been the only voice

that I have been able to find.

I’ve taken to singing in a mournful wail

when my heart just can’t form a smile.

again, at least the sounds come out

they are the only ones I have.

I know what it means to grieve

endlessly day after day.

to be wrapped so tightly in desolation

you flinch at another’s touch.

I know what it is when that touch never comes

and the ache that emanates from my skin.

I wear it like a garment

until it becomes who I am.

I’ve become an expert at all of these things

I’d like to learn something new.

I’d like to learn to smile

from somewhere deep inside.

I’d love to be able to laugh

without any other feeling attached.

not ‘until’ or ‘because’

but to simply feel joy.

I yearn to fall in love

with someone who truly sees me.

someone who actually hears what I say

not just who they need me to be.

I want to give my heart

openly without fear or regret.

I want to trust again

it just seems an impossible task.

I’m tired of being broken

tired of being torn.

of constantly trying to hold together

something that may never be whole.

On The Edge

days have passed and I have tried

to keep the words at bay.

I have pushed them and cursed them

I have told them to settle down.

I have tried not to feed this desire

this aching need.

to let my words spill onto the page

like blood flowing from a vein.

I have tried to uplift myself

through words seeking light.

I have written prayers

and tossed them into the sea.

but darkness sits on the edge of the room

and it slowly stares me down.

it threatens my resolve

and it is quietly laughing at me.

I know that sound, that tone of voice

it’s been a soundtrack to my life.

it has accompanied me

down many a dangerous road.

I’ve been fighting it with earnest now

for days and days on end.

today I’m tired and tempted

and I just want to lay down with it.

let it wrap its arms around

my desperately aching need.

let it touch the places in me

that are screaming in pain.

let it softly seduce the want I feel

and feed the hunger within.

let it take me away

at least for the length of today.

this is what pain looks like

written on a page.

urgent, dark, scribbled lines

that make no sense.

this is what it feels like

if you listen to these words.

there is nothing else but the silence

so the meaning is clear.

I don’t want to fight for anything today

I want to surrender and curl into a ball.

I want to weep, I want to wail, I want to scream

the release that comes from hearing my own voice.

the dangerous edge that divides

the dark from the light.

the line that exists for balancing

with outstretched arms.

holding nothing in my hands

I’ve thrown it all away.

today feels like a day

for dancing on the edge.