Anima

There is a place inside of me

Where my dreams go to die

A somber potter’s field

With no caretaker

No gravedigger

Just the silence of demise

The tombstones are inscribed

With nothing

The mausoleums are in disrepair

It is futile to glamorize

It is pointless to mourn

When this graveyard is but a chrysalis

Where my dreams become new apparitions

That refuse to not live

There is a place I can find

Where fear is a straitjacket

I smoothly slip my arms in

Accepting its comforting embrace

Hysteria tightens its restraints

Anxiety and abhorrence that is

Terrifying in its rationality

Lead me to a padded room

I am lulled to sleep

As they whisper

The lie that is a lullaby to my ears

“You will be safe here”

There is a land of whimsy

Where fantasy sings to me

And reality is an illusion

That I am blind to

Because I have a child’s eyes

I question everything

And receive nonsense

That enchants

And gibberish

That is perfect in its logic

There is a hall with walls

Lined with snap shots

A charmingly embarrassed smile

A head hung low in loneliness

A familiar look

In familiar eyes

That speaks more powerfully than words

There is no big picture

But every photo tells a story

And lets me bask in those minutiae

Reminding me that this life

Is a series of moments

And each one is precious

Beyond measure

In places there were once gaping wounds

Some of which I stitched

With a rusty needle and thread I tore with my teeth

Some grievous injuries never healed

They continue to weep blood

And some although small

Festered until the infection spread

And had to be cut away

I am patchwork

I have earned

Every scar

Of self-destruction

The labyrinth goes on

To places even I have not dared to look

My psyche is an every growing map

Limitless

And exquisite

Extraordinary

And dreadful

It forces me to love

More than it is safe to

It lead me to spill

My life force

When I spill this ink

And it creates within me

Loyalty so powerful

That the confines

Of eternity are laughable

Dirty, ashamed, damaged

Strong, breathtaking, inspiring

So complex

In its wonderful imperfection

There will never be another like it

And it is mine

The Hour

This is the hour for forgetting

This is the hour when my mind

Is kind

It does not remind me that summer

Is a painful time

Of memories

That are unspeakably vivid

This is the hour for remembering

Those late night trips of my youth

With the brother that refused fear

With the brother

That was determined to live

Even if he perished in the process

This is the hour

That summons memories

Of the tattered back pack

In which I kept my chaotic life

Walking the streets

Of my small town

Looking for a place to sleep

Anywhere but home

This is the hour when

My best friends found me

When they answered the door

And let me in

When they pulled up

In broken pick-up trucks

And we chased the night

Running from the dawn

This is the hour of my first kiss

That lead to years of confusion

All of which were worth it

This is the hour

When playing on a swing set

Made perfect sense

And perfect bliss

In this moment

I idealize the trauma

That created tears in my eyes

This is the hour

When I never knew

If I would survive

This is an hour of nostalgia

That tastes like dark chocolate

When the world made no sense

And it was painful and perfect

And I was alive

The Lion Who Layed Down With The Lamb

I used to hate the darkness

I feared the coming of the night

When shadows played tricks

And I stumbled in the moonlight

Tripping over the fears

That I knew hid in every corner

Hiding from every object that I knew

Was sinister

But now I sit on my porch

The cicadas and lightning bugs

Have gone to sleep

And it is just me

And the cricket choir

The sky is indigo ink

Not a star to be seen

The moon is new

And these eyes cannot find it

There is sweetness

In the lonely call of a single frog

I am awake

Free from the nightmares

That plague my sleep

And there is peace

The summer heat slumbers

But this sticky warmth comforts me

3:34 has never seemed so sweet

Diagnosis Crazy or How to Become a Member of Society

There is blood on my hands

It is my own

And it can never be washed away

Tears have stained my cheeks

Leaving trails on my face

That lead to no where

There is a prison of my own making

Where the bars are my own dark thoughts

And the sadistic guards laugh at my escape attempts

Corruption overcame my innocence

Before it had a chance to frolic

In the field of dreams that it deserved

Those dark days

Trapped

When my eyes saw nothing but decay

When I spoke of righteous hate

Because it was easier than

Letting the world see my hysterical terror

Then came maturity

Realizing that the world was not

Against me

Realizing that it barely even noticed me

Just a snowflake in a blizzard

Of writhing human souls

All crying out because they were lost

All trying to shout above the wind

That they too suffered

That they too were lost

This diagnosis that says

You are different

You will never be a part of society

Unless you take these pretty pills

Unless you learn these coping skills

So that maybe

Just maybe

You can be one of them

And if you don’t

There is a tragic end in your future

Side effects include

The numbing of your creativity

A lack of desire to question everything

These miracle chemicals

Will prevent you

From feeling a dangerous purity of emotion

They will help you

They will help you

Until there is no longer a you

And in your normalcy and happiness

You will forget that there ever was a you

And the blood on your hands will fade

Not because it has been washed away

But because blissfully

You will no longer notice it

Manifesto

My childhood was filled with word

And actions

That said one thing

You are worthless

In my wayward youth

I believed this

Causing a spiral of low self esteem

Where I believed that I was not worthy

It was not long before my rebellious nature

Took over

It had always existed

But it came bursting forth

When I realized that any attempt to fit in

Was poisoning me soul

A glorious thing happened

When I realized that being unique

Was freeing

When I realized that we are all

A little stranger than any of us

Liked to admit

Human beings are never meant to be one thing

We are not automatons

Marching in line

Slaves to society

Worshipping the all mighty gods

Conformity

Media

Advertising

We are more than consumers

More than statistics

We judge

And we are judged

And I am guilty of

Indulging those things as well

I long for a rebellion or a revolution

Where we realize that

The human constructs hold us back

From the humanity

That is part of us all

I long to stray from the sanitized social media

And it’s darker side

Where people throw tantrums

Of rage

Where their first reaction must be right

And they will fight to the death to defend it

Instead of opening their minds

To the possibilities

I will never fit in

I am a weirdo

I am a freak

And it fills me with pride

It makes me feel beautiful

As long as there is culture

There is counter culture

As long as there is main stream

I will not swim in its waters

For I fear I will drown

It seems as if everyone has to choose a side

And I refuse

I will fight for what I believe in

Regardless of the consequences

And above all

I will be myself

And never listen to

What I am told I should be

Symphony of Silence

On most days I am a cacophony

Unlovely sounds that are almost a melody

Intrude upon my thoughts and spill from my mouth

I speak

As if I am communicating

I speak with conviction

It is false

Most of the time

But it is there

I have left people in awe with my words

And occasionally I have taken to shouting

Are you even listening?

At you

When I drown in frustration

In moments when my voice feels too quiet

There is a certain desperation

In my need to be heard

You sit

As still as a breezeless summer night

Quieter than a frozen winter landscape

With no obvious reaction

But there is a symphony in your silence

There is music in your sideways glance

The constant drum beat of ears that have done more than listen

They have heard

The rhythmic bass like pulse

Of your heart

It is steady where mine races

It is steady when mine lies too scared to move

The crazy violin song

That makes me dance

Is in your eyes

The woodwinds that soothe me to sleep

Are in your touch

And with each breath I can hear

The sounds of a thousand instruments

That play

As this background music to my manic speech

And keep me grounded

When my head has gone beyond the clouds

Alone we are beautiful

Together

We are a masterpiece