Cell of Psychosis

Goodness. I haven't posted a darn single thing in almost a year. A good friend mentioned this little space of mine, and wondered why I stopped writing on it. No real reason, except and extended case of writer's block and lack of...inspiration. But that's bullshit, since there is inspiration in what we do and see every day, isn't there?

Truth is...laziness and frustration. Stagnation.
So then, why in the nine hells didn't I try writing about that in the first place??


It's like drowning
in sugar
A sweet, slow, tranquilizing passing
from active, creative, energetic writer
to lazy, uninspired, apathetic.
The change is slow,
but the realization is

sudden

As if all the air
in the entire world
were sucked into a black hole
and you're left gasping, choking, aching
for something you not so very long ago
Took entirely for granted.
Writer's block

you may as well truly be drowning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your spiked toes grip tightly
you wiggle your feathers, fluff up, and
somberly, seriously, sweetly chirp
You tuck your beak, so neatly,
under your wing
Sigh one very deep content breath
And drift off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An armful
An earful
An eyeful

To carry
To harken
To Look

With grasping
With listening
With gazing

Reaching with the senses
To understand the senseless
Tantalizing clues dropped
in a labyrinthine heart
Where your guide
Seems to be
reading the map backwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They say time heals all wounds
And to let it pass by
With respect and patience
But what if the passing of time
Causes wounds to reopen
on a clockwork schedule?
What if you can count the days
Til your next crisis,
you're next real loss of self?
What if time
is no longer the medicine,
but rather has become
the poison invading body and soul?
To what then do you turn to
In attempt to heal your wounds?
In the crash and burn race to
MOVE ON?
Well my dear,
That's where flowers and wine
Come in quite handy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tired like a breeze from spring
That can't find its way out of winter
Having gotten itself tangled up
In the caressing arms
of a snowstorm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes
When you let a fire pit burn down
So low that its almost out
and you can just barely feel
warmth rising where once there was
A blaze
Sometimes
That fire will relight itself
It almost seems spontaneous
But the secret is,
You tossed one or two
very dry leaves
on the top of the ashes
And now
the house is burned down
your life is a mess
And there's a fire there,
Raging and thrashing
In the fire pit
and in your heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you know its wrong
and you stay
When you cannot stand to fight
and swing anyway
There might be a problem.

When your Dad is worrying
And you brush it off
When your friends are concerned
And you let it slide
There might be a problem.

But when you aren't sure
if the problem is yours or his
Or if its your Dad and your friends
Then you have no choice
but to ignore it
There might be a problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you look in the mirror
And see someone trying so hard
To maintain the appearance of control
To keep the questions at bay
To be sane, stable, safe
And you know that the person looking back
Has lately not been a single one of
Those pleasant and gallant sounding adjectives
...
You take down the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's a hole in my pocket,
Dear darling, a hole
And through it is slipping
My hopes and my woes
Like dripping molasses,
All down to my toes
Til all of my goodness and
Sucrose delight
Are leaving me empty, alone, and a'fright.
With nary a dream nor a path which to tread
Just all this horror and mess and distress
in my head.
And spinning and spinning
and twirling away
There goes my sanity,
Frolicking in just the wrong way
So counterproductive, unbalanced, and vague
All sense of meaning has flown,
All strict morals, sway.
The light at the mouth of the tunnel stutters
Flickers, dims, and burns out
And I'm here left with darkness
Inside and out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to build you up,
My buttercup baby
And never let you down.

Because
Down there,
there be monsters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I have found it! Eureka!
It nary left me alone!
My patience has returned
Like a king to the throne
To guide me again
in the steps that I tread
And to hold back my tongue
When my cheeks burn red
And to open my arms
When others run forth
Oh patience, my darling,
I forgot your true worth!

Tripwire
Clumsily strung
Like the web of a
Narcoleptic arachnid
The only protection
For a wild heart
like the one
inside of
me.

------------------------

I've got to be clear on this,
And I've got to be concise
Because once you get me started,
It's like a forest fire
Hard to stop the burn from
licking across everything in sight
It's the domino effect in practice
When someone asks me, what went wrong?
Was it the sunrises that found you missing?
Or the sex that left me used and lonely?
It could have been the way you acted
Like I could never be your one and only.
Maybe it was how you laughed
That finally pushed me over
That finally shoved me past the edge of excuses
And into the realm of walking away for good
So when they ask me, just what went wrong
The plethora of reasons
That you'll never see quite fully
jump to my lips and threaten to burst
Like a cracked dam, just one more pound of pressure
And it will simply let go.
I try so hard to smile
And just say,
It's past.
Let's leave it that way.
Because I'm doing just fine,
Yeah I'm doing okay.

--------------------------------------------------------------

There's a certain feeling
When one confesses
Their innermost workings
Even anonymously
And opens the wound up
For the public eye to
Scrutinize, dissect
You're speechless, breathless
mostly, terrified
That someone may recognize
And you'll no longer
Be invisible
And you'll have to
really own up to
the experiences.

When you drop all pretenses
And let loose the gunk inside,
Everyone seems a bit surprised
Like you've done an unthinkable thing,
A self-condemning sin
When you just can't hold your breath
And counting to ten is a bust,
You're temper's like a volcano
Pressurized and precise
And baby, it's pretty damn scathing
So you better start running
Cause she's just about ready to
...
...
...
........EXPLODE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What does it mean,
This growing-up thing?
It seems a tad worn out
Like overcooked spaghetti,
Just a bit too limp
I need a little something
To scratch this wild itch
Cause I just wanna act like
One of them crazy kooky kids
Dancing down the sidewalk,
Burning rubber in the left lane
Causing all kindsa trouble for the local law man
A drink in my right hand,
My lover in my left
Chasing down some excitement,
Biting our lips in ecstasy
I'm in the in-between
No longer a kid,
But sure as hell not an adult
Cause screw responsibility,
I just gotta shout!

There's a wickedness in exhaustion
A betrayal both base and corrosive
My shell, this place of my living
Has given up all energetic attempt
And sputtered like a dimming flame
A darkening at the corners, a fading out
The simple trace of a sleepless night
Devoid of thought or meaning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She's holding her whole world
In the touch of her lips
She lets it play
On the point of her wriggling tongue
All her dreams, goals, superstitions
Her very goddamned existence
A woman of all virtues and vices
Holds them balanced on a breath.
And dares to ask all of the male persuasion
Who pass gallantly and confidently near,
Begging her touch, her attentions
If they are strong enough,
in mind and touch.
If they are subtle enough,
Passionate enough
To give her their kiss
Without tearing her apart?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We traffick in trust
And bargain in bastardizing
We produce only polarities
And destroy all dalliances
The eccentric are extricated
and the conformists compel,
Now tell me consumer,
What REALLY, should we
continue to sell?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drop your hand
from the air above my flesh
Before my frightening glory
Singes your fingertips
Causes smoke to rise
with the stench of dead cells.
Do you even hold the capacity
To imagine a life
Without a terrible ambition?

I am the disease, running through
Thriving in your bloodstream,
Invading all functions.
You have no escape nor defense,
You're drying out.
Drop
Drop
Drop
Your hand is too tortured
To caress my blazing sex appeal
don't you
find me that appetizing?
Want to take me, to praise me,
To validate and ravage me,
Dashing below clinical lights
Too bright to allow a mask of decency.

But you're wasting away
With my laughter and disgust
sending waves of shock
through your synapses
Can you live without
your terrible ambition?
Oh, this degenerating condition!

I'm the lost kitten with the tattered ear
Wandering through alleyways,
meowling my woes at creaky back doorways
And trashcans with red eyes staring back, unmercifully.
My talons are cracked and my fur tightly tangled
My scrawnyness is repellent for the do-gooders on the street.
My eyes are droopy and my tongue too dry.
I'm the lost kitten you just walked by.

I feel my breath pulled
Out of my lungs
the way a child tugs a kite string
Every time your lips,
Like the soft nuzzling of a doe,
Caress my lips, curious and yet
Full of more passion than
An orchestral performance
Full of seducing harmonies
And flirting melodies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When times are harder than bricks
thrown through silver glass windows
which shatter like a childhood dream,
We must lean together like the corners
Of bricks built up into two colossal walls
Leaning towards one another, adding strength
and minimizing our weaker spots
The strong storm coming could
Easily blow just one or the other of us over
Shatter our bricks just as easily as
A sugar thin windowpane
But, here joined as a corner,
It is no match for our resolve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~