Call it Peter Pan on a crack pipe flight,
Overseen by angels and whispers of devilish delight.
Carve wanton whiptails in the air,
Playacting as children with zero care.
Feel the rush of blessings given free,
Thank the wisdom that kept you from me.
So here it comes on again like the wondrous moment before the plunger goes down and that spiral twists its way into your innermost regions to play songs of the sweetest sin across who you are.
Its a bit different when its in your head though, and nothing but the tin can rattling around to remind you of the slurried remnants of what you once called yourself all but forgotten in an intense longing, for…er…to do…fuck…something.
Clutch point on a catch and release orgasm and the fish is dying on the line. Fuck me three ways from Sunday if I can pin it. So where to go.
Where to go.
via A New Identity
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.
I’ve been lost in my own world for quite some time, but my god is this some intense and fantastically accessible poetry with a free flow feel.
I wanted to make something beautiful… avatar of dragon bone Celtic sworl-painted warrior adorned with cold starlight stare of purest water out of night sword bare statuesque goddess of Greek proportion portrait of love so vast blooming roses painful, profane I wanted to touch something beautiful fumbling naked fingers unworthy buckling harness to steed that […]
via Something Beautiful — RamJet Poetry
The stuff of stars is what she says we’re made of,
Wildly burning out into the nothing behind warming halos.
Waves of ink staining heaven above wrap around them,
They blaze on in resistance.
Never faltering.
Even though they are but a Dot waging war against an endless sea,
Each wails its personal music into the beyond to remind us that we are not alone,
And some of us are even Angela’s.
Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD. This is also a common acronym for Bi-Polar Disorder, to differentiate, Bi-Polar is often BPAD) is more than just an irregularity in personality. It is a serious and debilitating brain disorder. It is associated with abnormal neural circuitry, meaning the brain doesn’t fire off the way it’s supposed to. Side Effects […]
via Learning: What Is Borderline Personality Disorder? — Border Like Mind
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
It’s been quite some time since I got anything put up here. Life has changed rather dramatically over the past couple weeks. I moved coasts, started a far more relaxed job at a local climbing store slinging coffee, beer and gear. Started climbing again, re-entered the program, have been juggling all the variables to get my life together and realize some satisfaction with who I am. I’ve rediscovered passions, happiness, and actually feel like I’m re-establishing connections with my family – something I never really expected to happen. There is the challenge of leaving behind the few very important and meaningful people along with the prospect of seeing my kids any time in the near future.
Sadly, it’s more important that I resolve some of the issues with my BPD and bi-polar which will allow me the opportunity to be a positive and consistent presence in their lives instead of the erratic lunatic I’ve been. Would be nice to not create such convoluted space within my relationships, perhaps even find some peace.
I do have an essay in the works and some other writing pieces which I’m hoping to get finished in the not so distant future.
Thanks for the patience everyone, and the support you’ve shown for this little experiment. I hope life is treating everyone well.
-S
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 