Uncategorized, Writing

mind vs. ed

 

*Note: ED means eating disorder

Conflict:

 

Imagine what the world could be

if it was only you and me;

the chatter of many fading slowly to few,

Think of all the time, the things that we could do.

Imagine all the wreckage, all the dead, the diseased,

the souls of all others suddenly ceased.

Wouldn’t it be quiet, only whispers on the breeze.

the crashing of the waves, the surf on the seas.

Imagine all our chances, the beauty and the grace.

The sky the only boundary, with smile on our face.

Imagine the sky crashing down,

the city burning, ashes on the ground.

The cries of helpless, panic ,and fright

darkness overwhelms, an ending of their plight.

Imagine all the good, the love and light

as we build a city of glass, mirrors shining bright.

The sun glints and shimmers as we finish our design,

but the world is far from done, beauty waits in line.

Imagine all the horror as the earth splits in two.

Run you silly souls, have you seen what I can do.

I have only gotten started with the torture you will face.

Brightness versus darkness; light will lose the race.

Two together make the devil present in the brain

fighting, clawing, biting, but only one can be tame.

Which will rule the conscious, which will fall behind?

Which will be the champion, who will win the mind?  

Uncategorized, Writing

depression

a whisper weak yet growing near

creeps and seeps into your fears.

it koons to you of things undone,

of mistakes, ends, and lies unspun.

it reminds you of the truth of life,

the growling, sharpening teeth of might

which rip and tear you into bits,

and pull and mangle you to your wits.

a life of anger, fear and pain;

a life of torture, angst, and no gain.

a dream curled up into a ball

shivering shrinking, soon to fall

into the chasm which is life

a reality world sharp as a knife.

and with a sting the cut appears

and bloody words creep to your fears.

the whisper grows, its voice deep

into your words and images, it seeps.

the whisper calls up morbid scenes,

conjures specters, murders, crimes unseen.

in its control is the night

and so, again, you succumb to fright.

Writing

doors

the door opens slowly

it creaks as the old hinges

work to support the weight

of the swinging wood

it shudders as it moves

for the first time

in years

slowly it comes to reside

open

the room beyond releases

a musty smell from

the dark expanse

now open to the hallway

a shaft of yellow light

moves to expose the

wood of the floor just inside

illuminating the shadow

of another doorway

it is made of solid wood

heavy

baren

imposing

it takes effort to pull

catching on the floor

swollen

from the humidity in the only

just awakened room

but it moves

timidly

as it rotates

half

three quarters

whole

one door opens

another closes

but i didn’t see it shut

Writing

time passes

the clock on the walled paused

the tick tock of the hand

faultered in its revolution

around the face.

and then it resumed;

so did my heart.

i watched it complete

one time around.

held my breath

at every subtle twitch

convinced it would stop

again.

it didn’t.

focused now on my hands

i ponder the letter

i had just finished

for the fifth time.

back to the clock.

still ticking.

maybe a sixth.

it needed to be neater.

cleaner.

i don’t hear the clock

hand still moving

gears turning in my brain.

the letter.

one more time.

my hand reached instinctively to the scar.

stopped.

i moved to grab the pen.

one more time.

the clock revolves.

it stops.

i stop.

tick

tock.

the clock.

Writing

the mask

brain of mine

you lie to me.

you tell me it’s fine

if me I be.

but in this place

of many days

it has no face

only plays

and so you see,

brain of mine,

if me i be

no move is fine

a role to me calls

costume i must wear

so i away from me i fall

separating with a tear

on is the play

out to the stage

tricks, lies stare my way

costumes they all wage

so brain of mine

you have lied to me

in life it is not fine

if me i try to be

Writing

society’s claim

i don’t mean to leave you;

don’t intend to be untrue.

but often my brain conceives

that i do indeed do.

i lied, i do.

for what am i to tell you

all the world says is reality

when it’s never new

always filled with some brutality

it’s true.

stigma, dogma, and the like

offered up unsolicited

all of which you dislike

but still allow in your head.

you can’t resist.

what are words to hold you back

in one side and out the other

you’ll try to cease

the wounding of the attack

you’ll fail.

who did you think you were

to resist the societal pull

the urges and the whispered slurs

of those who wish you null

you can’t.

give up on your strength

give in to the voices

for you have no right to assume

that you can make your own choices.