I eased myself down from that emotional spike. I knew there was light at the end of the tunnel but I couldn’t find it right away. I deployed my mindfulness techniques that I’ve learned within the last year and I got back to where I needed to be. It’s not perfectly perfect but it’s good enough for now. I made these grand plans to get out and enjoy this summer, but I’ve been super unmotivated. Coupled with drama from all sides, all I wanted to do was hide. But I think I’m in a better frame of mind now.
I wish there was something I could say to encapsulate my feelings about this past month, the sobering reminder of the senseless violence in the world, about the inertia of my life. But I cannot.
For the first time in my life I cannot find the words to exorcise my demons. On top of all the normal fears I carry on my spine, that scares me the most. It’s all in my head, churning like a broken record. Over and over again. In Hamlet, Shakespeare said that “the play’s the thing,” for me, it’s words. Words are the thing. There’s not a damn word in the dictionary that will ever take the pain away.
I used to be afraid of the future because I wasn’t sure who I was going to be, where life was going to take me.
What I really should’ve been afraid of was the present, of living in the moment, knowing that someone might be out there who may hate me enough to want to end my life. It’s the immediacy of right now, the visceral moment of today that has the potential of bludgeoning a spirit so ruthlessly.
Time and distance heals, sure, but I have no Tardis or Delorean to take me far enough in the future where I know I’ll be okay again.
I want to get there.
If I could, I would give my eyes back to God
Return to sender, address unknown
To remove from me the grief that comes
With being slightly blind in everyday situations
These pinpricks of space that adjust appropriately
To the dark, to the light, unto the breach
Can’t see the leaf on the wind, watch how it soars
Tired of seeing halfway, can’t meet you there neither
I can’t get anything right.
mixed my blood
Gasoline and fire
To my words and music.
I shall return to dust
rocks, palm trees, tumbleweeds
Herald my arrival
So many pages to a person.
Move onto the next
Stiff breeze on my neck.
Unfolded dreams revised for the crowd
Origami cranes blanket the Pacific
Rumbling wheels impart us with melodies
Ponds separate us with their secrets.
In death, we treat everyone the same
Undeserved of the textbook
definition of respect, in life.
You are the ones
we slurred for your political opinions,
judged harshly for your dead bedrooms,
pitied the victims you shamelessly stomped
as you walked your Yellow Brick Road.
Conversations drop an octave
when the obituary is published.
Truth benders erupt from the woodwork
Praising the specters of a life well lived.
Truly a life lived unwell, full stop.
Death does not pass go.
Never let go of the truth.
The scars they left survive.
Let them remind you everyday.
twenty four hours in a day
twenty four years since
riots serenaded the streets of LA
that powder keg of corruption
safety of unreality violated
blue and red combined
made purple, united
against the tyranny
of the 5-0
we lived six hours away
working class neighborhood
I can see your face cringe
all the way over here
when I tell people where I lived.
never thought it was that close
until the house down the block
had black and whites
crowding our quiet street
red and blue lights pulsing
imprinting in my brain
that damned song worming
its way into consciousness
breaking off my innocence with it.
The stars in the skies
Dripped into your eyes
Like the beautiful ones
Hold you when you’re done.
I’m in this for love
Fallen angels, righteous sins
Raptured in misdirection.
Baby it’s you
It’s always been you
From the moment I breathed
You in like a fog
Trip me in the dark
And into your arms.
And another one
Pound me like a drum
Brush the ivory
Got me singing harmony
That beast with two backs
Coiled like a snake
Make it worth your while
Kisses loaded with guile
Write a silly symphony
Under the cherry blossom tree.