Brain Worms

All credit to Captain Three Leg for the image.
Image credit to Captain Three Leg

Wiggling brain worms of love
cross each other on withering paths,
laying out siege plans and more,
demanding the mind bow and be labeled a whore.
Tussling tatters of titrated remains,
their infection spreads softly
but fierce is the pain.
When all is lost to the annals of memory
(that malleable stuff made of thoughts stuck in entropy),
we’ll know not the beginning,
seek to suss out the end.
But by that point the parasites will be dug in,
they’ve rewired the hardware,
unfucked the program and rewritten the codes.
Their beautifully at odds with all we call real,
if God were a worm I might be filled with more zeal.
A zest for the unknown where dreams can take flight,
even a place to call home in the bitterest of nights.
But, here I sit.
Obliterated identity left off as a stain
to be cleaned by the new host
who’d prefer I be insane.

Parenting the Sin Monster

Abaddon by Eileen Understaalz

Watched from the outskirts all rimmed in love,
you gave over no safety that I could feel of.
Watched bygone while I struggled and spit
venom and vomit up until I was spent.
Watched while the waves came on moving higher,
swore I’d tell you to fuck off from my funeral pyre.
Watched while I grew sturdier before I faltered again,
lost deep in mire of life and filled up with sin.
Watched endless triumphs burned to the ground,
seemed life went crashing down even without you around.
Watched this final run at the finish line
with new eyes and a tone that said things would might not be fine.
Watched as realities melted and took rent in my head,
finally recognized that all wasn’t right for my seeming age.
Watched with compassion even from afar,
spent time learning rather than coaching a “star”.
Watched me enroll and hit the books,
instead of crack pipes and needles if you only knew.
Watched me change for ways in the better all dulled by the pain,
I walked through the fires in flames before I saw you again.
Watched me marry and find a good woman who’ll last,
she once told you to get bent though its all in the past.
Watched me grow up finally into something akin
to man racked in regrets and scarified skin.
Watched the people I’d hurt and sometimes you’d side,
with me over others, though it crushed my pride.

At the end of my days when I look on out to consider
how far I’ve come and whether I should be bitter.
You did the best you could with your view of the world
that you did what you could to help despite all the churls.
If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I would’ve been,
maybe the futures changed are in respect to what you did.
Parenthood must not be easy I say as a father,
one seemingly absent forever trying to reclaim self enough not to falter.
And if my children one day come looking this way
I’ve got apologies, presents, and a lifetime to share—
I’ll do it different then you did, I want them to know that I’ve cared.
And if that isn’t enough and they hate on me still,
I’ll know that I forgave you for it eventually, even without a will.




Squandered Clout

Black smoke picture from Unsplash
Black Smoke from Unsplash

Hat trick pony across the line,
shepherded wisdom you felt was fine.
Triumph and fall away
don’t presume your sacrilegious idolatry on me.
Priming pumps at the Chaos Madcap
shoplifting tears having a panic attack.
Raze the Earth come all blue
destination choke back for our school.
Anti-hero rapture chord in flight
pulled on so loosely
now cinched up tight.
Bargaining with soul to sell
minister no more hearts and regrets in hell.
Hardcore stomps and tromps on you
confinement time in a human zoo.
We’ve got no more noise but slaves to quell
freedom squandered,
no one spent it well.

Psychosis Poem

Schizophrenia inspired artwork
Artist depiction of schizophrenia

I keep trying to write something that grabs hold of the feeling of being in a psychosis–fully separated from reality in some horrible fashion. I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to capture the experience, but hopefully some fragments of it made it onto this draft. -S

Pry them open to reality all flawed
time to see the breakdown.

Fragmented existence done in fractal recall
patterns contour the daily grind.

Never stable it will flow over you
vicious, merciless, and without care.

Trust nothing you hear or view
belief in yourself will be the only way through.

Find solid footing in personal identity
hold fast to it as the walls collapse.

Never accept what you remember
memory and truth are malleable.

Painted in a thousand shades of false
test yourself and survive.

Wiped out internally by the struggle
cleansed to nothingness, a relief.

Struggle harder and the pain will gather,
simpler by far to outlast it than fight.

Planes of existence and thought overlap
confusing rationality to no end.

Get gone boy
this is no game for children.
Sit back and let yourself be washed away
pray, pray, pray to any god listening
that it will end soon.
Sometimes they listen and sometimes they don’t,
but what have you got to lose?

Going psycho, loyalty, passion and commitment.

I’ve posted at various points about the women I had been in meaningful relationships with over the past several years. I’ve started the process of trying to own my mistakes and damaging choices that I made which wrongly hurt so many. I’m not expecting forgiveness nor looking for absolution – I simply want them to know that I see, finally, what I was doing, and that I am using that knowledge to change – but that I am truly sorry that I never gave validation to their suffering or trials as my partner.

The woman in the picture is my wife. We have been married for nearly a year now and during that period, for nearly 7-months of that I was in a schizoaffective psychosis that made it excruciating at points for us to interact. I left her for another woman, an ex, and then came crawling back as the hallucinations and delusions became too much. She welcomed back a broken and distorted man who was in the middle of, very literally, losing his mind.

At various points during what should have been our honeymoon period, I was convinced that she was in collusion with a massive entity that had designs on my life or was controlling and manipulating every facet of my existence. At others she was the embodiment of every other woman from my past, down to peculiar quirks, gestures and habits. She was going to be my executor and was part of the CIA, maybe she was part of a higher learning classroom where the objective was to transfer the emotional condition of each unknowing participant to their partner in order to engender sympathy and empathetic understanding of their challenges, she had been solicited by the local police force as part of an investigation into me and was the only reason I wasn’t in jail, we were unified spirits finally returning to each others company as we had been separated at birth, I was an android, we were both part of a “Matrix” style computer simulation, we were in a computer simulation again but this time it was part of a pre-death effort to recover functional control of the potential disability funds that I was too apply for – we were both on our way out and there was a timed limit to how long we could be sustained, she was god, she was my mother, she was my sister really, we were siblings, we were part of a government solicited experimental project that dated back into the early 1960s and was consistent with mind control practices used by the CIA and the conditioning had finally started to falter and a reset was needed in order for us to continue on, the experiment was over and the pain was from the conditioning being wiped, I was part of a TV show and was always considered an overindulgent jackass but the popularity had hit a decline and now the producers were reworking to see if they could salvage what had been a massive financial expenditure, there were patterns in all of the lights and colors that indicated specific events that would be forthcoming, the patterns were there to trigger latent programming in my mind to demand I act in certain ways……on and on and on.

Heather dealt with accusations, assertions, demands that were incredible unreasonable, threats, hostile looks, battered and desperate sobs, breakdowns, manipulations on her reality to try and line up with what seemed to be gaslighting, and capped with endless triggers to her own trauma that brought it back into full swing for her PTSD – she walked down the same road as I, holding my hand while my mind shattered and I became completely incapable of functioning in any sort of a way. I became wholly dependent on her emotionally and often physically as I would need direction to do the simplest of tasks.

I don’t know how she did it, I can’t imagine the entire extent of psychological and emotional damage she endured for that period – all while being judged and criticized by her family for standing by the side of a “schizophrenic drug addict” to such an extent all support and contact was removed.

She is truly incredible. Today, I am enrolled in college full time studying towards a law degree. We own a small RV that barely functions but acts as home. Support comes in from my family as we have actually rebuilt a degree of trust and love now that I am on a steady and clear path forward. They see the efforts that we have put in and the support we’ve given each other. When Heather broke down and checked into the local hospital, I was able to be there as a steady support and ensure that she was taken care of and all the outside concerns were handled so she could relax.

I was shattered at one point to the level that while sitting in the hospital with a deep wound from breaking a window in frustration that I didn’t know my name, my gender, my birthday, anything beyond that I was sitting in a hospital. She nurtured and helped grow me back into an actual function adult, and a partner that adores and supports (as best he can) her in turn – trying to reciprocate what she extended so freely despite the obstacles.

I love her to pieces, she astonishes me with her creativity, emotional connection to the larger whole, altruism, sympathy, caring and respectful behavior towards anyone and everyone – completely free of judgement. She is loyal beyond what could ever be expected of someone to endure and when she sets her mind to any task she has such a commitment as I can only dream of. For all her peculiar little quirks and certainly acknowledging that we all have faults, she is one of the most remarkable people I have ever met with a story that would bring any rational person to their knees in disbelief. She has been on quite the journey with me, and I am proud to finally be returning what she invested – surely to the disbelief of anyone who was in doubt of her decision if they were still paying any attention.

Most what I admire however is the truthfulness she embodies in every action and conversation throughout the day. Coupled with her open mindedness regarding life and non-judgemental mentality, we can speak openly about our challenges, desires, mistakes, fuck-ups, and everything in between. She has challenged me to have such a degree of integrity as she does, to walk the walk and own my actions, to grow by mimicry at first and then taking my own steps. She and I are building a life together, starting from nothing, but laying every component carefully so as to have the most solid of foundation–something neither of us has ever done.

We truly have been through one hell of a ride, but today we are able to laugh, enjoy some precious moments, and be secure in our connection to each other, knowing that nothing can, or will, break us apart.

Stuck

Stuck on,

Wash, rinse, repeat,

Stuck on,

Reading the same page.

Stuck on,

Making the same mistakes,

Stuck on,

Being stuck on.

Summertime Delusion – A Letter

All credit to The Hamer https://www.deviantart.com/the-hamer/art/Little-Soldier-Boy-182842008

Despite every frothing nuanced prayer that initializes my psyche, the distorted grimace of broken promises and lost understanding, perched atop a wistful hallucination, a misted and cloaked recollection of the past run doggedly down by the present pretense.

If ever there was something akin more to the listless and forgiving welcome end of the fight with the embittered arrogance of senses beguiled by a world at odds with the wasted conviction that drives each of us to draw determined store each day.

I don’t want to see that shit.

It’s going to remain a figment of some darker god’s plaything.

Poor darlings chained up until the scent of dread and hate and playful desperation and longing and weakness and fear cum resignation. Soaks the fingers loose from greased clasp on steel.

Fucking breaking would be the sweetest of releases.

To find forgiveness in deceit , blunder through fields of denial, laden and swollen deep with the putrid rage at self and world.

Just take one more day beautiful.

Please.

I’m begging through this weakness and shame of my indignant mistrust.

Please.

Please show me I’m crazy enough that I won’t die in my hate lust that these fears have spawned.

I’ll be your puppy faced joker.

Your sterile cat of misapprehension.

Feed me your sin to mirror mine and kiss these wounds to sew them shut against a clot of your mercy. The sheen was lost so long ago and hasn’t been a clean reflection since you woke me to a world of normalcy bathed in the crackled genius of the wounded.


Errr….and then words….

Composite a spectrum,

Diagnosis alternative nostrum,

Qualifier doctrine placenta,

I’d call it a kid if only it were one.

So, birthplace be lobed,

Rounded and gray matter globed,

Because words man,

Them is the things that I once loved.

Greased Shadows

Shadow child on a wire.

It’s like a greased shadow that always flits away at the moment of its realization. From the opposite side of the equation it must be infuriating to exist as a singular potential point of reality. To be there, not there, pulled away at the last second like a word that gets lost on the way out from lips.

I’ve let myself destroy so much of myself with this obsessive tracking and back tracking to find a semblance of reality, to make a change now seems not futile but like capitulating. Facts are facts though, and today I find myself more miserable for the fears and fascination that I ruminate on sober or half cooked hazes.

For all my certainty that I can find a conclusion that somehow rectifies the damage that I must have caused and that I’ve jailed myself inside mentally and emotionally no for more than a year I’m no closer to finding peace than ever in this fucking quest to verify my own sanity or its absence.

It’s not the drugs (though they sure as hell didn’t help), its not the crushed moments of happiness so consistently fucked up by my that wildly erratic streak of madness that would bring about a beast of a person rather than the genuine me. It’s an absence of understanding and a goddamn mental block that seems to sit heavier than lead across the pathways upstairs that say, “do something different and get something sustainably different. Make a fucking choice, you’re miserable, choose joy instead and go back to devil may care appreciation for the individual seconds. Intensity used to be something you looked forward to without fear, stop jumping at phones and the thunderous chance to strangle what could just as easily be a figment of your imagination. Go be wild and spontaneous and crazily thrilled to be alive, goddamn it, just fucking decide that happiness is as infectious as this venom you’ve been spewing to the detriment and disgust of anyone within spitting distance. Go get back in the manner of loving and spread some joy, learn something, make a change, and even if it’s as a fuck you to the unseen initially it’s still a choice you can make.”

I’m so sick of being sick in the head like this man. Fucking hell I’d like to see something amazing mundane and start appreciating the hell out of it….like that damn “American Beauty” scene with the plastic bag.

I’ll get there I suppose…I even start college in January and have a new list of goals for the first time in I don’t know how many years. Momentum, have to get it building up to break this bloody inertia.

Vented.

Ownership

green wooden chair on white surface
Photo by Paula Schmidt on Pexels.com

Motivations interviewed and irrelevant,

I’ll lay my head guilty pressed on insignficant,

For cowards face never the burning sun,

They’ll hide in shadow and deep shades for far,

Too long to justify,

Too short to miss the feelings of defense,

A good name is relative depending on who plays the better game.

I’d settle for naught but honesty,

Review of self with society as whole the juror,

Makes for fearful selling,

That for each wounding action their is a conflict acting.

Were each moment played off the last,

All credit due for manipulations, scheming, mind games,

But each one remaining new,

Pure of outside intrusion more than human,

That would board for explanation.

To the inn keeper who lent a room,

Truth be told I wanted warmth without the price,

For both myself and my wife,

Without money on hand my labor was an easy price,

We left you a story and a poem,

You gave us peaceful hours till we meet again.

The individuals who have given freely and randomly,

Not all your funds went to the gas tanks,

In fact I know,

Aside from coffee and some flowers,

Much has gone to calm the sway of panic,

I regret to say booze to numb the world,

In this turmoil and limbo I’ve fallen to the ease of calling it a moral disease,

Let myself be sold to the desire,

A bottle sits easier sometime when buried in mental wreckage,

Burning in quagmire.

I’ve had bouts with lifting,

Ignoring and getting loud with my wife,

Falling short at jobs and seemingly checked out on life.

Surely by the standard of the world I’m guilt ridden as sinning,

My core personality is crawling back though,

Believe in its honesty or not,

I will sit down with a young woman and try to share her pain,

With my wife, bath tubs and reruns, church and tradition,

Moving Christmas boxes for a hot meal from a kitchen.

I’m finding a stride,

And yes, I am open to denouncement and decry,

I’m a fool touching down,

Getting his head scanned and on meds again,

Trying my best,

Hell, signed up for college and even showed for the test.

I’m far from perfect,

And I’ll sign to the tune of my own recognition,

Of failings I make,

Mistakes or plain fuckery from more rebellious days,

For the first time in long months though,

With eyes clear to the world,

As much as they can be,

I’m on a road to improvement,

On bettering up my awareness,

So that I can be I,

You can be you,

And together bring each other ourselves,

You and I, us and we.