Tagged: depression

The man in the Ghost.

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The leaves billowed from the heavens, a roasted brown or Sunkist yellow. Mixed into the mess is the liter of the ages; a pattern, a rhythm, a song of color against dismal grey concrete. I pass the man with the tenderized face, jeans with holes and a twisted limp. But he smiles, teeth like termites. And though he smiles, later he won’t. And though he greets me with a kind face now, later he won’t. We know this, we know the binary of the demons and the angels. It remains unacknowledged, but the distance is respected.

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Killing For Revelation

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There are holes in the Ziploc bag.

Snow coated.

Breaks in the lines,

Sparking electrical wires

Melting alpine peaks

And itchy noses

Cut with methamphetamine

And the surgeon’s

Favorite razor.

The poets are scratching,

Shitting poetry

Bearing teeth

And grinding needles

In mildew corners

“Shit stings brother”

In that lavender pink

Codeine sky

The sweet thick stink

And an oasis of empties

Christ on the cross faded nausea

Accumulation

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Fish eyed

stoic reflections.

A little wired

Little crazy.

Wilted ass flower,

Chatted furs

manage to misunderstand.

They drugged Jesus,

The Son

Nauseous with nothing to nibble,

Nothing

 

Far from original sin

Smoking on senile hand rolled slugs

Racing past 

Settling insectile faces

Behind sterile windshield

I need these antithetics

To get through the day

 

The list travels through L.A.

And Tokyo

Coilng around the world

Knotted ball of twine

Each thread the next scroll

Of my prescription

Of prick the fingers,

Make him bleed,

painkillers

 

They whisper it,

Hiding behind sweaty palms

As I stumble to the curb

“DRUG ADDICT”

“HAGGARD DRUNK”

“RAPIST OF THE SOUL”

the roach that go away

 

The sky is stained with exhaust

The strip with buds

Accomplices

In my land

Two layers closer to hell.

Sedimentary Chest Cavity

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weeds, onion shoots
growing from the side
of abandoned dirt roads
careless carbon, without consciousness

not content nor contempt,
just being
energy in the atmosphere

always we press on
with the force, their breath
moving us through
eternity

the yoke splattered on my shirt
subtle reminders
that the soil and my soul
aren’t so damned different

and acidic pieces of death
in the air
passing through
keeps me moving
keeps me alive

the potholes 
keep me awake
on my long drive through Hell.

Finished Before the End of the Sentence

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I can feel it dripping

Down my throat

Like turpentine

Taste it tainting

The water supply

Sometimes it sticks

Festering through my lips

To catch a whiff

At all hours of the day

It sticks to your clothes

Like cigarette smoke

 

Death

In the floor and the ceiling

Asbestos and mold

 

Death

Printed as the watermark

On every page

The wriggling tongue

Behind sealed lips

 

Death

I’ve been carrying death

With me

The most fashionable

Of face piercings

A skin condition

from within

to gradually

Consume all.

From Maggot to Fly

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The cigarette bud is crushed

Into the creases

Of rotten Would.

 

I can see my face

Resembled in the ash

And know we are

One and the same.

 

Though I more closely

Imitate the insect.

Rummaging through cadavers,

Squirming boils burst

at their own

 volition

 

Dug deep into the earth

To taste the red hot

Of my species

 

Under so much weight,

I begin the great ascent

Knowing it’s likely

I’ll never see

The green surface.

 

It’d be easier to accept death,

But what’s the point

Of a bug like that.

Writhing in Tepid Streams

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Hell bound Hounds

We’ve found

we’ve drowned

Could the sea

Wash more away

Than sin?

More than body and soul?

So unassuming,

So indifferent.

Maybe the secret to the pursuit,

Is in the changing tide

Unsure of what’s to be.

Sacrificed for this brittle end,

But with laces tied

And eyes covered

I walk.

The World in “Why?”

An open letter to critical thinking.

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 The same sights, the same sacred, lonely people. The same puddles, trees, cars.  I’m stuck in another cage. Is this all there is? Transcending through one cage after another, imagining some framework to progress, but we don’t move progress or regress. We move horizontally, shifting to a different cage, but still just as trapped as when we started.

There are varying grades of containment. In the heart of the woods, on the ocean front, at the mountain slopes, forgotten wetlands, I feel most free. The natural is fleeting landmarks to human spirituality. Simultaneously cruel and nurturing. A multitude of spiritual paradoxes deep within despite whether or not we know or acknowledge it.

I reach out to expand, to grow, but they’ve clipped my wings, they push my curious head back into my cage. They obstruct the view of potential in the outside world and I can’t have it. I’m ready to pull my hair out, to mutilate, disfigure, until someone listens.

There’s something to this. The self-expression, a window to Aristotle’s divine manifestation, (http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.3.ii.html) and though I’m stuck in a cage in nature, I’m closer to transcending than ever.

Reality consists of perspective.

Death is not a thing to be feared, death is not something to be cherished.

It is simply the unknown. We only have one life, but we’re contained by the limitations of our body,

we can’t imagine what it would be like to be free of our aging bodies, but we’ve been given an opportunity.

A break from the eternal after. A chance to suffer, to show who we are, and what we’re willing to do with the chords that chime so intimately.

Proving what our love can do in another realm from the norm. We have all of eternity to be in the bliss of after, this is our chance to suffer, and have something to show for it.

This is the time to discover Humanity.  If you can, please, try something new today. Open a book about a subject you haven’t explored, a genre of music or literature.

Please anything to stimulate the mind. There’s so much to learn in the folds of history, so many skills mastered through the practice. It is a constant struggle to keep the mind elastic, but learning to be flexible in every facet of one’s life is an important, fulfilling skill. Curiosity trumps all.