Which One?

Have you met yourself, no actually met yourself?

No this isn’t another bored metaphor for finding oneself,

Have you stood and looked yourself in the eyes when you’ve hated yourself more than America hates peace?

Have you stood beside yourself in the dark and could still see the twisted frown your own jaw struggles to keep fixed?

Have you witnessed yourself witness?

I have looked at myself in my reflection…both of us staring into the mirror trying to discern which monster we were going to choose that day,

One good days, I can manage to trap the bigger monster inside the bathroom and barricade the door,

…it’s like trapping an active shooter in the small space where he cannot further worsen the conditions of others’ existence,

But I am never alone…the man travels in my mind belted to the back of my head, unseen but secured and ready to speak whenever the slightest inconvenience falls at my feet.

What happens when I come home?

Oh, I unblock and unlock the door and prepare for my daily execution,

I knell slowly to my knees and stare myself straight in my eyes while the blade of my crowded loneliness glides across my scratchy throat,

I ceremoniously bleed out on my dirty carpet before I close my eyes one final time for that day.

I wake up in my bed and I try again, in hopes, that someday when I come home I will have someone to defend me against myself,

In hopes that one day I won’t have to be the smaller man and accept defeat every time I go to rest,

I never sleep, I only wake up,

Unrested,

And mentally sore-

unready to battle again.

Thankfully

Sometimes I can feel my soul absent from its room,

It sneaks out its bedroom window without mind to obscure its escape,

It runs away once a year and opens up my mind to unspeakable things,

Like devils on Halloween,

Or people on the Purge,

And it’s those violent urges that purposes the Holy Trinity of mind, heart, and soul because if it was up to one alone I’d be reaping every bad deed my troubled mind has sown.

Every inconvenience inflicted by another person, every sly comment mumbled under the breath, every unspoken assumption demonstrated with their actions would boil the red in my veins,

Every discomfort, every single cause of pain,

Every heartbreaking, every healthy relationship another person refused to sustain; would end in big violence,

So now when I notice my soul has left, I just impatiently wait for it to come back; sitting in silence.

Tho…ght

Disembodied voice, all you jokes are cries for help,

In the center of my room, your voice stands on my nerves…unwavering and repetitive,

Asking for a peace that I cannot give you,

Your clock ticks as you contemplate the potential errors in your approach and I watch as you evaluate,

Bituminous lump coal burns, your invisible ears smoke; you lose your train of thought and I wait.

Your voice stands firmly on my nerves, in the center of my room; unwavering,

Asking for a peace that I cannot give you…because I don’t have it myself.

Now Life

It was the same color as Hell,

Or at least I think it was,

It would wait for me to close my eyes to stare me dead in my face…loosely hanging from my fragmented memories bolted strongly into the ceiling,

I would fear the fruit of my actions would drop and break the skewed bones of my tired face,

My smiles no longer weighed the same as my frowns so whenever I would smile I would picture myself sleeping upside down…my feet to my headboard and my footboard to my crown,

It would just stare…for hours…quietly reminding me of my proximity to my memories,

Tears…drink, spirits no longer liquid remedies,

It’s mouth would open wide…freakishly, ghoulishly wide, I felt the blackness of its hole begin to consume my better parts-

Gently pulling the skin from my bones,

My perfections were eaten as I laid back in a mess,

A mess of lethal notions that spun the gun every time I thought,

In my head, to my head, people broken, past relationships, past actions, present people’re glued together fractions of unintended, unwondered conversations that kept to themselves.

I, regret. I regret my coldest comment and my warmest touch, I regret the thought-out and unthinkable, I regret so much its pillow could smoother me in the pointy bed I lay me head in, I can feel it reaching me now…it’s almost 4am and I can feel the demon’s blade in my gut cutting out the last good I have left in me so I can hang above other’s bed as they try to get a good night’s sleep.

I am now life…looking her dead in her face.

Less Than I Do

A fragile state,

I can feel my heart bashing against my glass chest reaching out to…

A chaotic state,

I can feel my thoughts ricocheting between two fractured minds trying feverishly to make whole the fragmented,

Such a state to which I’m intimately familiar…as my loins hunger for skin, and body aches for touch; my senses are no longer the same.

Every woman, every one before, every memory, every memory moored tightly to my reality, tightly to my now, I study to remove their presence but still don’t know how,

Every woman, every one before, every memory; scores of unfinished stories, scores of unfinished lore…in my home, in my room, in my space, in my bloodstream braided against my bones…I am…

In such a fragile state…one wrong whisper could throw me over,

I feel my heart chipping at my glass chest,

Reaching out to…

someone that needs it much less-

Than I do.

Solar Beings

When I need to rest my eyes, I get a matte black cloth and wrap it tightly around my head, so tight it’s almost painful,

Then I place my hand over my mouth and lie back,

When the back ball of my head hits the bed I stop for a minute…and in complete darkness I return home,

No more color, no more reason to fight the burning solar beings feeding, biting at light…I can just…stop,

Just stop for a minute and regain myself,

For every second after wake I begin wane into naught and my eyes strain until they’re bloodshot with filth,

It’s the filth of these solar beings braiding between my energy…eating and taking, and taking, and making me sick of seeing the sickness of solar beings,

I regain myself…just for a minute before I return into their space, opposite of mine.

When I want to rest my eyes.

Just a lil bit

Okay I must admit,

I may have exaggerated a lil bit-

In saying that I was depressed,

I was just sad, and I confused the stirring pain in my chest with mental illness,

After I chucked my 3 years of training on emotional fortitude and resilience,

The tears taught me I am still breakable and that rattled my insides like the passengers of a tumbling car…

Instead the tumbling car was my life and I was the driver.

So I must admit,

I may have misused the word “depressed” just to ,ya know, REEALLY FEEL IT! Like really feel the barely bearable wave of existential dread. That type that reminds you that time is fleeting and your love ones will eventually die, either before you or afterwards. The type that reminds you that you are actually physically in the company of many and utterly emotionally alone…the type of pain that leaves a bloody taste in your mouth like you’ve just been punched in the teeth.

I’m not depressed, I’m just sad.

Color

They gave me 6 seconds to accept the fundamentally impossible,

They stood and watched as the inner workings of my soul ticked and clicked until my body remained speechless,

My mouth went dry and ears ached as I heard the halls of my soul pluck chords unfamiliar,

I stayed untrue to my knowing as I gripped to my reality,

They watched me decompose like a teacher watching an Apple rot on a small desk…they did not utter a word,

This world force-fed to me in 6 seconds before the last light I knew faded into black,

My new world, my new now…dimmer, darker, blacker than I could stand…total darkness crept in total nothing,

I screamed for 30 seconds before sound fled my ears,

I felt nothing more than the vibrations of my tone shaking my vacant shell,

They said nothing…and then…

And then my voice claimed its station in my mind,

It claimed its authority in my me…my 6 seconds turned into 6 hours, days…I have since lost the measurement of time as I traverse this astral plane…wishing for my elders…wishing for color, and then, it happened…

African Storm

I would make my bed,

I would wash my hair,

I would scrub my head,

I would close my door,

I would shuffle shoes on the floor,

I would stare at her,

As she slept in peace,

I would study her curves,

I would reach her feet,

I would calm my nerves,

I would ready to sleep,

She would feel my presence and reach out to me,

I would strip my guards,

And dissolve in her arms,

She would trace my scars,

And promised to do no harm.

The power between us, like an African storm crashing bolts of electricity on our plained landscapes, bolts for heaven, bolts of God,

bolts of pure peace packed in the shape of lightning rods.

The eternal storm…thunders on, forever, and ever.

Quiet Ire

I remember stepping on broken glass nested in the carpet of my bedroom,

I remember hopping into the bathroom trailing my bloody foot across the floor,

I remember yanking the weak worn cabinet knob and hearing the door slap against the base,

I remember driving my hand through the mountains of beauty products to try and find a bandage,

I remember not finding a bandage,

I remember propping my leg on the sink counter and running cold water through the split skin,

I remember the sweet strawberry water,

I remember losing my breath and gripping the loose railing and unhanging towels as I fell to the ground,

I remember lying on the stained bathroom floor…staring at the lights, I could no longer feel my foot,

I remember feeling at peace,

I remember feeling a sensation of water running over my chest,

I remember that river,

I remember my hands, I remember my clenched hands,

I remember holding onto the flat floor while my eyes began to dim,

I remember a subtle warm hum wavering from ear to ear…

I remember throwing my glass cup against my bedroom wall,

I remember frantically pacing around my room,

I remember ringing in my sore ears,

I remember stepping on broken glass nested in the carpet,

I remember trying to catch the blood pouring from my foot as it cascaded between my shaking fingers,

I remember the desperation of a thousand slaves whipping through my hollow chest,

I remember feeling the blood in my veins and my heart in my ears,

I remember black,

Just black and a hum, my hum, pitches of little tethers tying me to this life,

I remember enduring.