I Throw Exes in Boxes

I Throw Exes in Boxes

I throw exes in boxes
seal with duct tape
place in a far corner
of a locked cellar

so they can’t hear my screams
cries that echo
in the walls shaking
the very foundation we built

I throw exes in boxes
on hands and knees barely
breathing

a mess folded
up in sheets
with all the regrets
I’m bleeding

I throw exes in boxes
sealed with duct tape
twice so their smiles
can’t escape my memory

cause without them
I’m an imperfection
dreading existing

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Demon Child

Demon Child

if I was
a religious man
I’d say I was the spawn
of Satan
a demon child placed
in dwellings to create chaos
to kill hearts
with angered kindness

if I washed
in holy water
would I screech
from the sacred burn
of the just throwing
stones to knock out
my sins

mutilated flesh picked
apart by the vultures
of the night life I partake
popping pills waiting for
the next vodka shot

as the tears fall
what goes up my nose
loosens the thoughts
I can’t shake with a dance move

then I think of her as I crash
the fruit of my loneliness
I’m ridding my sins
with a blade and  a flame
in 3 hours I’m at it again

Contemplating 2014

It is exactly one week and two days until the new year’s beginning and I’m stuck in a pattern I am trying to break.  I feel like I have been in a continuous time loop of destruction for the last 3 years of my life.  I have come to a lot of realizations about who I am as a man–a person, and I suck. It’s mostly been negative after negative after negative. I’m socially incompetent and my reliance on medicine to think/focus is becoming mundane.  A big part of my existence is my inability to love wholly (one of my strongest desires in life).  I think my best friends put up with me out of necessity. They take care of me, continuing to prove their genuine generosity whenever possible, but I always question my level of appreciation.  I have so much to be thankful for, but my mind won’t allow what it is I’m so desparate to feel. 

Officially, I have lost a woman that I loved beyond anything, yet I got in the way. She did what was best for her and objectively, I can understand the need to get away from an angered, ranging maniac completely; with my cats or what was my cats, by her side. Then after an extensive search, I found someone who could withstand my destruction, yet, I felt myself demeaning her existence. I could see her future self begin to hate me for my lack of love and appreciation, thus, we amicably parted ways.  She was the next best thing to my relationship norm, yet, I found ways to be ungrateful and pushed myself to be aggravated and annoyed by the smallest things.

So as I look to revamp my existence and find purpose in my personal life, maybe I should come to realize that what I truly desire isn’t the appreciation of someone else, but for my inner workings to appreciate itself.

Ideal Match I Am Not

Ideal Match I Am Not

ideal match I am not
trapped inside
faulty equipment resting
at the intersection
of pathetic and improbable

my creativity isn’t crafty transforming
lemons into lemonade
without a spill or two or three

so I sit quietly
in any corner I can find
shameful of things
I can’t change
often wondering
what’s makes a societal man
into me?

my insides set ablaze
every time I visualize
my walking strategy

tears no longer flow
when bloodshed
is a language
I’ve learnt

bartering knives
used to fillet
this distinction out
of me without success
left to succumb
to the  Monster inside laughing
at my frivolous attempts
to change his Mother’s glory

so where’s my Entity?
my God when I need
some wielding power
with a force creating
canyons deep enough
to make me disappear?

ideal match I am not
left to navigate
a foreign land
where my heels don’t touch
the concrete floor 
where my knees bend
to McDonald’s arches 
even when I’m not hungry
laugh cause you think it’s funny
cry cause it’s my nightmare

and this curved spine
is my personal flash warning
predicting rain and snow
slow motion movement
why is everyone in a hurry?
it’s lonely out here 

but an ideal match I am not
so I settle 
in the crevice of my own solace
watching life slowly
murder me 
as I fade into extinction

Journal Entry #20

I respect my therapist a great deal. It’s hard for me to conceptualize that I have been meeting with him for over a year now.  He has assisted me in gaining some self-control in how I handle my anger.  For that, he has officially done his job because that is what I initially started seeing him for.  Over the course of our sessions, however, I have come to see how lifeless I am and how he can’t necessarily fix what’s broken in me. My physical impairments have caused me to be mentally unstable simply due to not being able to accept my apperance or my limitations.  I don’t deal with pity well because I have so much of it internally. This is something I deal with daily, but hide it in the darkness of what’s left of my pride.  This has caused several strained relationships in my life ranging co-worker to friend to family to intimacy and beyond.  It’s something that I’ve been trying to stop–it’s one of few things I’m never honest about because the idea of talking–of thinking about it fills me with so much rage, it’s just not worth the aftermath.  So how does one fix a problem without a specific resolution?

Journal Entry #18

Today, I was just walking down the street and felt an overwhelming sense of failure–sadness. I don’t know why I keep having these days/moments of going in and out of this state of being. I am tired of being beaten down by myself, but I don’t know how to stop. I am tired of crying, but look for anything to supplement my agony because apparently, I believe I deserve to be in this state of torment. I drink myself stupid then take anxiety pills to chill me out. That’s not a good option, I know, but it is what works at the moment. Then again, that’s the problem with a moment, they don’t last. I am a time bomb and I can hear the slow ticking and it just takes the smallest thing to set me off when I’m in that moment of despair. Raging beast lives within my mirrored image, ready to ripe to shreds any inanimate object just so I won’t hurt someone physically. The flesh on my bones are rough from the years of pain my body has gone through. Others, I don’t know their struggles; their lives might not have been cursed like mine and maybe their skin isn’t so tough. Out of fear of their safety, I retreat into myself—fueling the bomb that wants to explode. I do have will power and control. With the help of therapy, I know that now, but who knows how long I will be able to hold onto a system that is merely a façade for who I really am. This demon living in this broken body waiting to be let out of its core to experience the world the way it was supposed to be lived. The only thing that I want is to be happy, but that is the one and only thing that I can’t have. I don’t know how to be. I can tell someone I love them, but how real is it? In my head, I see these things as fantasies. In reality, I want to be left alone, but I’m plague by the excessive banging in my own head; telling me to cut deep and breath, run away and leave this crap behind. I ask myself where can a person run to, to get away from his/herself? Thus, I end up walking around aimlessly. If I’m lucky, I have a car at my disposal to distill my solitude behind metal framing. At least, I can find comfort in a roomy vehicle and, of course take the stress off my legs.

The things I think about are unnatural. They always have been. Too afraid to share, too disturbed personally, to really care what the world thinks of me. I’m a walking contradiction that has no real hope of ever achieving peace because this demon inside me, as strong and persuasive, will not allow me to go on my merry way of living a “normal” life. I have suffered my entire life for one thing or another, why should this be any different? Maybe peace isn’t something I should be after or can truly obtain. Maybe, a better quest would be to find out–what is the real picture, the painting behind it’s rundown replica that I have created for myself? Who am I am really?

Journal Entry #8

How can one be depressed–legitimately depressed, but have a love of life, yet want to die? I’ve been having these conflicting thoughts without any specific reason; at least not on the surface. I’m experiencing light headaches, major mood swings (that I have been able to shield from my family for the most part) and the inability to truly ocus on one thing. I have been working on my deep breathing, but I worry that may not be enough anymore.