With an image blast and some optimistic love from Twain….this is uncharted water for me and I’m learning as I go.
Running away from your mind.
Schizoaffective Word Cloud
What does Schizoaffective Mean?
Schizo After All
You thieving fucksticks awandering the world,
Prying eyes and solemn lies,
Whisper me that venom.
What a burn that illusion has,
God damn does it sting.
For all the moments pure and right,
I wish the voyeurs would choke on what they do at night.
I’ll sit and eat blister packs of revelation,
Fuming and screaming in pathetic consternation,
You missed the boat!
Sipping coffee in the wind,
dust kicking and battered spirit spitting,
You missed the boat!
Should have stood straight and waved goodbye,
In the end you’re a stepping stone and never mind the tears we cry,
Fucking crafting your soothing scrub to brush it all away –
Hit me with it baby, hit me with that love.
tell me when I should kneel on down,
Mercy and punish – hit me from above.
Prying eyes and solemn lies,
Whisper me that venom.
Fucking preachers of unrequested bedlam,
What does the truth cost?
All you never knew you had.
Just another animal needing tending at the publication zoo.
They say: “If you itch we’ll soothe it.”
I say: “Just don’t pretend you didn’t do it.”
For the fetal breakdowns and the mental throwdowns,
When the color was white and you said it was black,
Hold your truth son,
You might be crazy but you know you’re right.
I’ve got depths beyond what the echoes show,
Slip off to your shame and idolatry,
I’ve been a puppet before but I’ll find a way back to being me.
Ain’t no venom tastes as sweet as truth,
And in those darkest moments when you fear the something more,
You’ll find no rest,
No breath,
No smiles and no safety.
Just the shocked blue eyes of a beaten child whose heart was bent to hate.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Lovesick – BPD on Day 2
Lovesick
Why is it that my words echo with such deep longing and feel so true,
But my actions call to task each syllable, each letter, each sentence,
Make me a liar in my own eyes, and shame me to the one I love.
Why is it that I regret each moment of time that I connect to another,
When I know that it will end in tears, that it will end in sadness, in another broken heart,
Because inside I never seem to change from the disgusting thing I’ve always been.
Why is it that the outside which feels so pure and grasps for grace blessed with integrity is so sweet,
When foulness runs afoot on seconds of impulse, chased spots of purgatory, whims of fancy,
Forever haunting myself with the tastes of beauty that I want the world to see me for.
That I think I can be.
But I deceive myself worse than all the rest.
I can never change.
So it seems.
And only God can forgive me in the end.
For I can never forgive myself.
-S
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
The Update of Hope – 1/12/13
My apologies for not getting on earlier. Everyone following and others have been so incredibly supportive of this site and my work that I feel guilty over a prolonged absence.
However, for the first time in many moons that absence is not related to horrifying events, rather the beginning of a renewed vigor for life and the culmination of some challenging work.
I am being tested at a new position in the hopes it will be come something long term – I’ve thrown myself into it beyond 100% in the attempt to do so. Happily, and with great satisfaction.
I’m finally paying child support, not as much as I would like to be giving to my kids, but everything that I can afford. Consistently and with the intention of finally becoming a consistent presence.
I talk to my children once a week, reliably, and without fail. I have 5 different alarms that go off and warm me so that if I collapse in exhaustion either the alarms, or calls from multiple people warning me, will get my ass up to be there to speak with my remarkable son and daughter. While the animosity is thick between my ex-wife and I, somewhere I’m finding the appreciation and respect for her that I should have. She’s been raising my children while I was unable to. It is my responsibility to earn my way back into the family I destroyed, not expect it handed back with a smile. I don’t think that way all the time, but as I build a better existence and confidence I find that it takes away the undercurrents that I let drag me farther from them.
I’m living in a stable location….more than 40 moves in 2-years….STABILITY would be a blessing in so many ways. It took me almost 3-weeks just to put my suitcase away because I was certain that something would go wrong…now I’m considering bringing more clothes that have somehow survived all the travel.
My squishy and delicious Mimi without who the world would have stopped so long ago. Forever and always will I be hers, and she mine.
Happiness.
I think I’m getting closer to happiness.
God damn if it didn’t take one hell of a journey to get here, and he (or she) shows that I gave up time and time again. They also know I’m terrified that the other shoe will drop at any second – usually I’m the one wearing it when it does.
I’m optimistically terrified of arriving at a new future, a start to something better, and becoming what I was intended to be.
My love to everyone who continues to support the blog. I will be trying to get more consistent again as everything balances out.
Happy 2017, merry-post “holiday insert” – and my wishes for kindness, satisfaction, joy, and contentment in the coming year.
Tonight the world is peaceful.
-S
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Drugs
When your world is shattered and you’re in tatters – stand back up and keep going. NEVER give up.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Strange Waves – Spoken Word
Plummet describes in a word the dumb shit,
The result of a life lived from one hit –
-to the next and that second of fuck it.
As intense wash the waves,
Through your secret filled caves,
Telling memories back from where you sent them away,
Until the shores are a littler cascade of broken mirrors pelting your gaze,
Each reflection a question,
Each flash a suggestion,
Of what happened and why,
Where you broke the faith and started to cry.
Each lens is a how of what could have been,
Who you are without all the sin.
No more pills and bottles and rock,
Bags of dope, sacks of coke and the inevitable cops.
Living on streets and the pity of strangers,
Acting devil may care to numb out the danger.
When each shot you took put a pin in your son,
Blocked his love just as well as you holding a gun.
You got loaded and loaded,
Raised finger and goaded,
As your legs washed out at the thighs,
From a tide on the rise.
If not for the merciful care,
From those you punish unfair,
You’d be sunk,
Drifting drunk,
Out to a personal sea in a trunk.
Boxed up tight when you ran out of fight,
Away from the world and your right,
As a man to do your best to make it alright.
And as long as it took,
For you to confess as a crook,
Thief of dreams, hopes and beliefs you forsook.
You can’t change the past,
It’s gone while the onrushing future hits fast.
So you accept the regret,
Live learn love and refuse to forget.
Keep strong in surrender,
Committed to change,
Because in the end you’re not alone,
And are any of us really so strange?
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Politics and Felons
Snow blind hegemony awash in crystalline flakes,
Glittering razors culling our commoners and drunks with the shakes.
Loyalties cleaned and washed through censoring filters,
Amidst shapeshifters shifting to mask hands covered in blisters.
From the cold of their souls and the heat of their rage,
Seared meat not so young as to be tender with age.
The gallows of yore leave fractions aghast,
That here and now they have gone and the past is all past.
Passe the romance and notions of change,
Politics is riddled with absence,
Most notably shame.
P.S. This was written while watching the debates and final results during the Hilary vs Trump 2016 election. Was sitting in jail with a host of felons who were equally disgusted.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Becoming a Literary Exhibitionist
Exhibitionism at it’s finest calls for a complete strip down – but like most nudity, sometimes those watching would prefer the clothes stayed on. Authors must dangle and hope the meat on display attracts the eye. Easier perhaps when your life is wrenched from the most vivid hallucinations of Jack Kerouac and Hunter S. Thompson then run through the Douglas Adams’ improbability drive. Prodded with LSD and electrified glow-sticks into the Minotaur’s lair to play. Surely that would entertain?
This is a lifelong dream, a Purpose or a calling that I’ve never been able to just put ahead of everything else. Please share, and thank you for taking the time to browse. Thank you.
IndieGoGo – Crowd Funding Effort
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Sectioned – Spoken Word via Scriggler
Sectioned – Spoken Word via Scriggler
This is a rehash (new momentous news and releases in the next couple days) but Scriggler has been kind enough to promote this and I want to share my appreciation. Your like, comment, or view would be greatly welcomed!
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Damned to Succeed (Slam/Spoken)
YouTube Video of the Spoken Word / Slam Poetry – apologies, my free plan doesn’t allow for direct posting of videos. This isn’t a gimmick to get you to click through,?” I just don’t have another means to share. Thank you for your time – I know you have a lot of quirky and unique folks and things to see online, we’re thrilled to have had your attention for more than 10 seconds and hope we can do even better the next time around, 😉
~S
Why is always the question,
Regardless of the fucking answer.
Why did it happen?
Why is this the way it is?
Why do I not have this?
Why did I make that one choice?
Why is she gone?
Why are they not here?
Why am I stuck in this endless fucking cycle with no one to blame but myself.
Pity is the answer when there’s no one to answer back.
Regardless of the reason behind why,
Pity solves the unsolvable,
Pity for yourself feels like absolution,
Pity shames the word away,
Because pity lets the hurt ring true.
Whether it’s honest,
Or a cry for attention,
Pity is a thing that has meaning and passion,
Feeling not lessoned by the outside,
Rather enhanced by memories and dreams.
Pity cries that you regret,
But don’t want to be buried beneath all of your miserable self-hatred.
“Get off the pity pot.”
Idiotic fucking saying.
“Stop feeling bad that you destroyed your life.”
It’s grieving, one part perhaps.
Fuck you for telling me to “man up.”
I’ll get there.
But right now I’m a child embracing the need for a warm touch from someone who will tell me it’s okay.
Clearly that’s not you.
Or so many in “the rooms.”
Anger is a statement of action,
Which can burn to the point of liquid sunshine,
Or freeze the world in a halo of hatred.
Anger shows a path forward.
Anger lays out the choice to move someplace new.
To take the past in an embrace and crush it with disgust,
Use it as fuel to burn a path into the future.
Or,
It can smolder into bitterness and resentment,
Regret with rage shimmering outwards in an aura of disgust.
Either a tool for success,
Or the death sentence of purgatory by one’s own hand.
Ice yourself over with hate for what caused the pain,
What caused the frustration,
The misery,
The loss,
The devil on your back that whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
The misleading moment where you believe it.
The damning consequences of that instant.
Fucking ice,
And seething determination.
Fuel the burning demand to NEVER GO BACK.
To forge a road forward.
To lay waste to anything that stands between you and success.
Today I’ll try and remember to turn the flame towards where it truly belongs.
Crawl out from under my self-pity and depression,
Stop asking why,
Just take it all for what it is.
The past was what it was.
The future makes unknown moves to confound the game.
This moment has all the possibilities I will ever see.
And it’s time to stand proudly in it.
Raise flag and grit teeth.
I’m sick of this shit,
Forward the march into the question of tomorrow,
And damn yesterday for the last time,
It’s about time to win for a bit.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 