Putting It on the Table

The hardest thing to do is to ask for help when you can’t fathom why you need it.

This has been a struggle for most of my life. In one form or another, I have always shied away from help.  It made me feel weak and worthless; as though I didn’t have the power to stand on my own feet. I have had people helping me since my earliest memories without justification.  I’m disabled, not broken, I can do it.  Well, in fact, I do and have felt broken a lot in the past. My belief that I was put

in the wrong body, led down the wrong path and quite possibly, given the wrong support team has cultivated my modern day depression/anxiety cocktail.  Drowning in pills and knife play has burrowed its way into the background of my life–for which I have grown accustomed, but feel guilty at the same time.

My strive for perfection has always been a hindrance to my personal and social growth.  The ideology that I have created; this creed to never make the same mistake twice overwhelms me with pressure and now the blurred lines I have crossed with certain loved ones have left me lonely and confused.

I believe that I have been preconditioned to see only the negative in everything that I or anyone else does.  The belief that I’m so great is a facade for the fact that I’m scared of everything in life.  The anger I utilized as fuel to push my way out is the same emotion I used to keep me stagnate.  The secret belief of feeling undeserving of love, the inability to start/finish anything I am truly passionate about consistent adds to my inability to relate to others until it’s too late.

The biggest problem I have is that I am objectively aware that I have a problem without a true means to find solace or resolution–whichever is easiest to find that I live happily with.  Even with a therapist who listens and cares, I am missing something that I have been looking for my entire existence, self-acceptance.  I have learned that neither a girlfriend, boyfriend, lover, friend, family member, therapist or medicine can provide me wholly.  This one is my sole responsibility that I try hard everyday, not to let take me to the dark, deep hole I can’t crawl out from.

I used to think I didn’t need help. That I was strong enough everything thrown at me. I am wise enough to know better, through trial and error, love and lost.  I have reached out for help, it just hasn’t reached back.

This Demise

This Demise

I lay folded
in a fetal position inside
the box of my brain pumping
enough toxins to fill the Atlantic
damaged by my own hand

so I cut that fleshy disease
out of me only for it to regenerate
fueling the demon I work
so hard to cease from existing

I stay restless
on these tear-stained sheets
an empty vodka bottle cupped
in the bend of my arm
flooding memories of smiles
I’ve misplaced
drown me to complacency
this settling of destruction fed
by laughs–a touch I’ve wished
to forget

When the Love is Gone

When the Love is Gone

cut veins to bleed
out the love unwanted
but too drained to reach
for the needle and thread

told wounds would heal
in time
subdued by a  mental restraint cloaking tears I should have cried

wasted two good years paralyzed
by the inactivity
of  a heart clenched
by someone that can’t go
pound for pound
round for round

I’ve proved my fight
for a soul I deemed
delicate has daggers
of her own
a direct hit in the chest
yet I still stand breathing
for a  chance to atone
for the attention
I only provided
in the image of my intention

this decision
not worthy in your eyes
so you cross train others
to fill a void I can’t

heartbreak uneven
a better deal
for the better half

Love’s A Question

The problem, it seems, is that love is a common question; what it means and how it is supposed to effect two or more people.

Since no two people really think alike, aligning feelings can be a challenge.  I was told very recently that I love too hard–too aggressively–and that can be intimidating or put too much pressure on those that I love. Now, while I can’t refute this truth, I simply act on my natural feelings and my response, as arrogant as it may be, if my love is too much, then just maybe, you are not worthy of such love.

I love with all that I am; a man in touch with every sensation that, at times, puts me in awkward situations. I admit that my style of love has caused me great hardship over the years–many mistakes and misunderstandings–however, I try to learn something from them to be better in the future.

I am that guy that still loves my exes (the ones I told I love you too), and I am that guy that cherishes all that time, even the last day that love was reciprocated.

Though attractive or very unattractive because it can poke holes in my ability to fully move on from one relationship to the next, I’m open, I’m honest, I’m just me simply seeking acceptance.

Psychopathic Delusion

Psychopathic Delusion

deep in the iridescent
colors of your eyes
I believe you want me
expressive in a touch
all over someone else
you think of me and dream
of butterflies
when our lips meet
how our breathing lapses
time continuing
to define existence
without me present

I dream of your touch
when I see you with him
seen you with them
the rage barely boiled
over, simple with control
nothing between us
can turn to dust

for within me
you breathe constant
running through my mind
your smile, a template
for any that follow
will never make the grade
to love fully is now
a mistake