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i can never tell

if a change is

healing or hurting me.

happiness is abstract,

and i can always find a flaw..

my own mind

seeks out chips in the armor &

digs in til i notice.

i’m fighting against myself,

most days.

some days,

i’m staving off the darkness

with my toes in the sand.

biding my time

until it decides

to make a home in my chest,

pick apart my mind,

take over &

empty me out.

it’s always a surprise

when i find myself

knee deep in sorrow again

really, theres not been a single time

i didn’t see it coming

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All you get is limbo,

the sadist proclaimed ~

I'm a painter

you're the pulp,

a dry brush ~

cans of stroke, nerve, and brain

. . . non-consensual . .

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what does a mad winter look like?

it's ripping pieces of paper ~

a dissertation lost,

the scholar silenced

. . . do not take this from me . .

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Sliding was one way

to go, past the

stones from the

strip mine with our

pockets full of

blueberries and our

hands clasping a

black and white hope

for tomorrow.

Robert J. W. (8-31-23)

(pic from Pexels, glitched by me)

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“Though those always the watchers that judges”

Once looks & voices wonder

Only one chance/choice

It could go wrong/right

They choose

I feel the humiliation fuzzing my clueless brain

My stomach queasy & squeezes

The nerves starting twitching

My body quivers

Anxious to

anger & bitterness fulfilling my shell

Wild thoughts shifting from gear to gear

it’s my hair, skin, body, voice, looks, intelligence

God why does it bothers those so much???!!!

The perspectives from those who lurks & seeks bad luck upon me

Giggling with laughter & shaming me consistently with every chance those get

Do those ever get tired of the same rumors & assumptions

The questionable anger & curiosity of why

The randomly jeering

The watchers leeching on to all the past & present events that happened in my life

It could never get out of my head nor the faces out of my sight

Those acts of hatred bought upon terrible feelings that trembles me

So much to stay still & quite

I can’t go to sleep without wandering fake scenarios to at least calm it down

But it keeps getting stronger & stronger

Suddenly

tears drops

then, there’s a waterfall

It narrows down to drops to droplets that stops at the end of my bottom eyelid

til there’s no more left

Acting out of impulsiveness

I begin to rage

yelling, screaming & punching

The failure to acknowledge & protect the inner child within me hurts me the most

While those watchers gets so many chances/choices to be happy

What an Misery

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Depression is my sunshade

In the sunlight I wither and despair

Shadows under branches,

offer sweet refuge and care.

Flowers tilt up

towards the warmth and light

But I feel the glow is poison

Something in me isn't right.

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“Gummin’ The Enemy.”

tap water tripping.  trading all our copper for profit  and dealing with the holes in the walls.  like angry relatives here for the holidays.  like weasels in traps with no way to  pass the time.  don’t call us old-fashioned; but we do enjoy screaming obscenities  from rooftops… with nothing done for free. without paving the way. I’ve walked so I could stumble. 

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Walking cadaver,

is Life or Death the master,

and does it matter?

S.E.

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There's Pain in This Distance; Rain in It, Too

These drugs don't persuade me. There are flowers stuck

to your knees; my jeans smell like arsenic in the sun. I'm homesick for soft, small things, like tiny bowls of

mashed potatoes, the kind we used to eat out in the garden before Ilya had to die.

There's paint in my skin, on my white striped shirt; I hear the ocean again

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Olof Thunman

Tallen

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Bone Dry

the white calcium of

bare inspiration

is revealed in the

desert of my thoughts

by the fine sand of memories

that trickles away

in the winds of change

an arid landscape

devoid of creativity

stretching out

beyond the horizon

with a stillness

born of regret

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Flying blind

Into the starless night

Fumbling all the way

Bumping into your shadow

Ghosts of who you used to be

Echoes of violent goodbyes

Run clean out of chances

No second glances only romance

With a possessive lover

Leading to the marriage bed

Fate faithfully awaits

Song prompt from @lithium-late-nights:

"Danser Encore" - Calogero

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George Inness The Home of the Heron 1893, Oil on canvas

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Life is a calm water

To get all its spirit, you need to dive deeper

Under it, a whole world exists

Deep inside, there are things to fix

Calmness doesn't mean we are happy inside

May be we need someone to guide

Sudden storm in the mid sea

Bow down on your knee

Don't try to fight

Just stay calm and hold tight

Hardness isn't always good

Don't become always rude

Drop stone and rubber from a height

This will give you light

Stone breaks

But rubber survives

Why so hard?

Why do you break apart?

Adapt and go on

Open your ears to hear your inner tone

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40,000 years ago, early humans painted hands on the wall of a cave. This morning, my baby cousin began finger painting. All of recorded history happened between these two paintings of human hands. The Nazca Lines and the Mona Lisa. The first TransAtlantic flight and the first voyage to the Moon. Humanity invented the wheel, the telescope, and the nuclear bomb. We eradicated wild poliovirus types 2 and 3. We discovered radio waves, dinosaurs, and the laws of thermodynamics. Freedom Riders crossed the South. Hippies burned their draft cards. Countless genocides, scientific advancements, migrations, and rebellions. More than a hundred billion humans lived and died between these two paintings—one on a sheet of paper, and one on the inside of a cave. At the dawn of time, ancient humans stretched out their hands. And this morning, a child reached back. 

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The trees begin to speak with us,

dropping yellow leaves, that swirl in the wind,

they tell us, fall is coming, and times will change.

The cold will become stronger, the sky gloomier.

So prepare, dear humans, bring out your lights,

as the darkness is coming, and with it, inner life.