Thank You

When I was covered in blindness,
one voice called out with love and empathy,
understanding, and compassion without compare.
It said “Find your inner peace,
be happy with who you are
fear not the monsters in your mind,
you don’t understand even what they are”.
The sound pressed heavily
on a head split wide with fears
found measured pain to empathize
sounded like it had shed its share of tears.
It said, “I’ve walked this path,
I’ve trod where you have been,
forward but never straight,
no signposts will you see,
until you’re past where it begins.”
In those lowest moments,
the light seemed not to shine,
the wielder of the loving whip,
a teacher I once thought of as a divine.
Was giving as was got,
despite cups of repetition while I whined, .
So while I beat myself to pieces,
unerringly fueling on the game,
focused on my misery and anger,
while inside I was broken hearted
and obsessively driving myself insane
At last it past, the world and love was open,
anything was possible and real life itself was the reward,
I went on down the familiar trails in a rage,
I’d forgotten completely what it felt like to be bold.
In those precious moments,
That second birthing chance,
where I was open to myself for once,
I could have run on forward,
a knight onto horse while grabbing lance.
I faltered then, that moment and the one that followed fast,
I wouldn’t make the moves.
I wallowed in resentment and the past,
Became an asshole at so many points,
didn’t believe I was capable of making a new choice,
reaction took over hearing,
washed out that blessed voice.
Personal truths and understandings,
Passions and pursuits that now I will pursue,
taking steps to get real help
to actually follow up on what I say I’ll do.
The capacity to look inside,
to be a creator and a giver,
someone who makes instead of breaks,
an actual member of the world,
instead of just some guy.
I’m in a place where I’m finding myself,
and the confidence to be okay with who I am,
I’d like to offer up my gratitude,
and my apologies if I fucked it all up
made it so nothing went to plan,
I took the road most comfortable,
the devil I knew seemed easier,
I know that now for what it is,
a betrayal and a filthy sham..
There were answers in your words,
they echo in my head,
If I had bothered to hear rather than be heard.
I might not have wound up halfway dead.
Now that I’ve been laid bare,
To where my eyes could finally see,
I’m taking breaths of air and life in baby gasps,
becoming something better than an asshole,
someone that I’ve never really been, me.
Recognizing that life is beautiful and valuable,
something absolutely wonderful,
if you reach out and confront true potential,
tread softly, think lightly, and try not to react.
Actually decide to be a player in the game.
Get your points from being who you are,
no matter what that looks like,
the truth will take you far.
Embrace love in all its forms
and own your actions instead of placing blame.
So while I still may stumble,
Hell, I know I get way the fuck off course,
there’s something I need to say
that I lacked the ability or clarity for.
that my actions made impossible,
that I wasn’t ready for until today
I’d be arrogant to presume I could say them best,
I’d heard this song and wondered at the words
it’s so damn clear it seems,
I missed the message all those times,
while walking through a dream,
missed the hope for the fears,
I’m finally able to reflect and smile,
rather than focus on the screams
“Thank you for all the doubts, and for all the questioning,
for all the loneliness and for all the suffering.
For all the emptiness, and the scars it left inside.
it inspired in me, an impetus to fight.”

The lyrics used are from VNV Nation, all credit due to their brilliant writing. Here is their song “Gratitude” which you can listen to and read the rest of here.

I Was a Stigma to Myself

All credit to Emotive Brand for the image.
So often I would sit and wail about "why"?
The frustration unending,
the obsession ongoing,
a gut wrenching demand to understand
that in itself
kept me from the knowledge,
the peace I sought.

Sick in the head druggie,
crazy as a shit house rat,
"something's wrong with that kid" -

Drug user stigma phrases shown on an image with a haloed syringe from the words.
All credit to Stonetree Harm Reduction for the image.

I tried to own those labels
make them something to be proud of.
I tried doing that,
by doing all the things
I imagined people with those labels would do.
I followed that up,
by demanding that I not be persecuted,
not be judged,
not be looked at differently,
though I had just behaved in a way that demanded all those things happen.

Now I come to terms,
sit with the idea of peace,
find pride not in my actions
but in the understanding
that awareness and acceptance bring.
To know that I am not an actor playing out roles,
that I lost myself,
but I am a survivor,
no longer needing to play the role
of victim or perpetrator anymore.

It's a small thing,
Which means so much to me.
To be able to introduce myself,
engage in a conversation,
with confidence.
Know that I accept who I am as a being,
that I no longer let labels
define who I choose to see myself as,
act as a script for my identity,
or be my scapegoats when I screw up.

That like so many others,
I am the hero
and the villain,
of my own story.
That my abnormal mental states,
my addictions,
all the resulting experiences,
are gifts to allow me opportunities,
to shine my brightest
against the backdrop of adversity,
and decide just how much of it there would be.

To know that there are others out there gleaming,
and if we encounter each other
it could be in the form of respect and love,
admiration for the battles fought,
no matter whether they were felt won or lost,
an opportunity to compare notes and grow.

I'm not ashamed of who I am,
or where I am today,
I am disappointed in many of my choices
but they have been mine to make,
and they were made.
I used to have a vision of the perfect person,
someone that I would measure myself to
and inevitably fall short.

Today I am me,
released on the world
perfectly defective,
beautifully abnormal,
gifted with challenge and capacity for growth.

All of it,
so that I have a chance to become
an oh so slowly evolving,
human being.

Malevolent Melody: a collaborative piece by the curators of Blood Into Ink

Absolutely piercing work from an amazingly talented group of contributors.

Blood Into Ink


Aurora Phoenix

Your Urgency Pierced My Marrow

with vanilla milquetoast
you spun a web
the envy of Arachne
smeared in syrupy cajolery –
I supped on hand-dipped flattery
your urgency pierced my marrowwith flim flam

Kindra M. Austin

Dilly Dalliance Bound Me

Lavender dipped

View original post 272 more words

Shine the Light

Showing denial as an image.

An imbecile with brains to spare,

if only it didn’t get wasted on recklessness and flair.

A heart of gold that’s caked in grim so foul by

denial in fluid form quite thick with salty accusations.

The entropy which held his corroded soul?

Only his own beautiful and despairing wiles,

his mental contortions and poorly calibrated machinations.

Knowing where to breach the wall starts up a new trip,

destination target of personal acceptance where he wouldn’t have to be so slick.

So out the fingers onto board,

let introspection guide–it’s time–

now to scour honestly at what really is inside.

The good, the bad, the disgusting and the brave.

Let’s turn the light where it should shine,

come to love yourself and be unafraid.

Written during an interlude to personal evaluations that have been a long time coming. It’s not all black or white, and that’s how I’ve looked at it for so long–either I’m a good person or a bad person. Reality is I’m a good person who has done and does bad things wrapped up with a bad person who does good things as well–happens to support the delusion that while I’m doing one I’m not the other. I have despised myself, been hopped up and arrogant, placid and timid, confident and sincere, dishonest and truthful–but I have never really sat down and recognized the individual parts of the whole to welcome them in and actually come to peace….my hope is that for whatever reason, that process starts today.

Actually doing some of the work for once instead of just expecting understanding to shit brilliance on me at some random point.

This runs in conjunction to me getting back into treatment though I never thought I would and despite still (poorly) struggling with the old demons. And, while terrified that I’m just wasting oxygen while doing it, I’m finally engaged with a full PACT team of recovery specialists to help give me a pathway and outline to work within to get healthy mentally and spiritually–become a viable member of the community instead of a pariah.

Last thought I suppose, because I know I’ve ground out so much vitriol here on my vomit board over the years–self indulgent and caked with inconsideration at many points–unappreciative of much that happens around me because I don’t understand the workings of the world nearly as well as I once pretended. Today I’d like to express some gratitude for the strange things that happen, both the uncomfortable and the “saving grace” moments. Times when you find that missing pot which vanished, or you forget to turn your headlights off for two hours but your car still turns on, your friend just happens to be there right when you turn the corner, or that any of us find love to begin with. Thank you and my gratitude to the invisible universe that makes it all happen. I’m going to marvel at the beauty of it more and perhaps be less confuzzled and distressed by the parts I don’t understand.

Much love, and thank you for reading.

-Melting Neurons

Many Voices

The tails on most all the letters go wavy, curl left
to a place they’re drawn to instead of from.

Many, however, jut down aggressively as though engraved,

digging trenches in the flesh of pulped tree skin.

Some lay delicate and feminine in their perfect order

others are hewn out with unkempt urgency and demand.

Each flourish, keystone whimsy given form

holding tight the lines, the words, the sentences.

Reviewing the ink gives eyes a chance to wander

pages strewn with discordant emotional ink stains.

The beauty in being fractured as a human being

is that you speak in many voices while seeking to find you own.