Bitter like me
You get more bees with honey
that’s what they say
but bees will also sting you
and I like vinegar
i can’t remember the last time I even had honey
You know who else likes honey?
thats what they say anyway
so to keep the bees and bears away
I’ll be happy to share vinegar today
It would be nice to have someone to have deep conversations with, though.
I guess that’s what God is for.
And where the soul can be bare,
stripped away from the prison of skin
that we find ourselves in.
People love to say that life is short and since I was very young, I thought, “What a stupid thing to say and for other people to keep repeating. Life is the longest thing any of us will ever know.”
20 years later, I still feel that way. Stop saying life is short.
I changed my name and my face and nobody recognized me
not a single soul remembered my personality
i feel reality slipping through my fingers
there’s a person in my head
looks like me
the real me
as I see myself
this person is sometimes successful
other times, they’re being dragged away by men in white
sometimes they’re screaming at the top of their lungs
a blood-curdling scream
sometimes they’re feral
animalistic and brash
sometimes they’re dead
and when they’re dead
I’m lost and I don’t want to be alive anymore
they usually die after an outburst
and the outburst is happening now
and there’s never a comfort
only the men in white who sometimes take them away for a while
and they come back successful again
in a suit
I say they because sometimes I’m a man and sometimes I’m a woman
that “inside me”, I mean
it isn’t real
but I do see it in my mind’s eye
when I lost my child
for years the men in white would hold my arms and I never stopped screaming
until they took me away and I came back
but I don’t want them to take me.
they won’t if they don’t hear the outburst
my heart is exploding
my little person is about to birth a little person of their own
so our emotions can be safe
in layers of imaginary people who express themselves within
and never without
How do I explain to you
every time I think of you
it feels like
deep pressure on my frontal lobe to my amygdala
and everything on the way
an explosion from front to back
deep and powerful
it fills my airway
and I can’t breathe
i can’t see
my eyes are swollen
my brain exploded
and I fall asleep
Death would be better
always had so much to share
so much to give
and no one to give any of it to
emotional overflow and not a single recipient
what’s it all for?
No one wanted to be bothered with his every thought
journals were dead, empty pieces of paper but at least he could fill them without hearing complaints or impatient sighs
and most importantly, they couldn’t reject him
except when he read them back and was repulsed at his own words
then it was clear
he felt unwanted
As unwanted as the thoughts in his mind or more because the thoughts had come from him and he was therefore the source of undesirability
Remember the day?
you were upset
your parents were gone for the night
and I had just come by to drop off your bike
you invited me inside and told me about a game
I wasn’t amused but I played anyway
I always wish things had just stayed that way
On the Bandwagon of Cycle Breaking
There's a common theme, a cycle I'd like to break here
People in my life
Get so used to me doing things for them
And asking for nothing in return
Then, when I finally do ask, they treat it like an annoyance. They roll their eyes, tell me to shut up, and that I'm being dramatic.
I haven't asked for anything.
And usually, when I finally do ask for something, it's respect.
And they say I'm asking too much.
Then, when I've exhausted my efforts and start to detach, they get angry
And they think that stonewalling me is the way to go
So they do that and I do what I do
I isolate myself, consider the situation, think of all the ways I'm wrong, all the ways they're right, and always end up realizing that I was never asking for too much
I was never asking for enough.
Then they whine and gripe about how I don't come around anymore
And then they gripe some more about how I discard their whining
Well, gee, I'm sorry, Mr. McGee, weren't you ignoring me?
Weren't you that "happy in solitude" person who didn't need me?
Yeah... and you will do and be all that again the moment I let you back in.