I used to believe that I knew my way around things
In my mind, I was confidently sure that I could always find the way
I'm resourceful enough to find the answers
I'm intelligent enough to choose my own path
I've accomplished this much and I am strong enough to go further...
Unexpected
This is a big obstacle
Confusion
I feel suddenly unsure
Where am I?
Who am I?
How did I get here?
How can I get out of this unfamiliar place?
I don't understand and I can't find the answers that I need
Panic
I don't know how to get the help I desperately need
Where is everybody?
Tears
Vulnerability
Weak and start to question, how can I get through this on my own
Stuck and ruminating thoughts that can't decide where and how to keep going
Lost
home
i'm supposed to know where
home is.
and i have the address memorized in my brain,
so maybe
that means i know where i am.
but once i step off
the corner of the sidewalk at the end of the street,
i am sent
into a labyrinth,
a twisting, living maze,
full of street names that ring bells
but don't form melodies.
people think i'm crazy
when i say i don't know where i am.
i memorize the way to work
but can never deviate from the plan.
i can remember street names, but never what's on them,
the map in my brain
is made of disconnected bubbles
that easily pop.
they think i'm not paying attention,
that i'm willfully ignoring the signs.
but they don't feel the panic
when i'm walking to the park
and realize there's only darkness in my mind
where a map should be.
have i seen this house before?
there's no way to tell.
didn't i pass that sign a minute ago
or was that
last week?
senses blur into fog
obscuring everything but my legs
and i have no choice but to walk
until i reach the edge of the neighborhood
before i finally admit defeat
and turn on my phone:
siri, take me home.
she says
it's a two minute walk from here.
Lost in Space
Buoyed by tepid indecision
Above the heated debate
Colliding with all others lost in vacillation
Forced to encounter a ditherer's inertia
Ballistically, above the fray
My pieces may fall to Earth
The fracas below, an inversion of doubt
Who shall I land upon?
One is right, the other righter
One will die when I strike from above
Whom will I choose?
Might as well be me
Penny for your Thoughts?
Feeling lost,
deep in thought.
Swirling around,
mixing together.
Dear, you see,
I can't stop to breathe.
Feeling lost,
Trying to be found.
Finding myself,
lost in thought.
Dear, you see,
I fear to breathe.
For love, can't you see?
I'm lost inside me.
Lost, trying to find my way out,
fearing my thoughts my suffocate me.
Please understand, please do see,
I am trying to breath.
I am trying to swim.
But, I'm lost, inside my thought.
sawdust.
wake up
immediately block my boyfriend.
i know
that he'll understand why. i don't.
id like
for it to rain today, but it doesn't.
id like
for my flowers to die. they don't.
id like
to be stuck in tragic accident.
id like
for my boyfriend to hate me.
i reach
for anything that may be wrong
because
it feels wrong, but i know it's not.
cycles
bore me, but never punch me
and
there's really nothing to do
except
silently watch the noise around,
sitting
in the center of it all.
The Psyche’s Margin of Limbo
There within
the dense, foggy lapses of reality,
I find myself alone;
Disengaged and catatonic,
As the absence of spirit eludes me.
I am barely within the compounds
Of this jagged-edged limbo –
This drifting piece of what is and what is not.
Nonsensical ramblings
Erupting like an angel’s fine trumpet –
Though, in a not-so-far-away distance,
I taste the tangy nip
Of that heavy, sour storm of numbness awaiting.
Ever so near to me;
But a stone’s throw away
hidden behind the shadows.
Nothing more than the mere dust of others
That I place my feet upon;
And I weep quietly as I hum a lullaby for the Fallen.
I am so much more than just lost, my friend.
I fell head first into confusion –
And oh, how it warps into
Such a beautifully, chaotic delusion!
I am circling about;
As if a feral, rabid shark could be as one –
One alive;
One of lore,
One of me.
I will never be free of insanity;
Forever locked in the deep recesses of the mind’s filthy pool.
I could never be one of strength –
For the devil tore my heart out
Upon my deliverance.
Ate it up
And just walked on by without a shiver to his brow.
And tell me, my dear –
Just what is there left beneath my feet,
Around my gravity,
Beyond the skies,
When the entirety of my being
Was mishandled from the start?
Placed before me were greedy, dirty hands
That took my innocence
And raped my rationality.
And, oh, how they dare to spit on my name!
To defile my offspring
And decapitate our spring of life!
But yet,
I know,
That in my pitiful, desperate pleas,
I am only that but of a misfit toy.
Lost among those who cannot be named.
Worryland
I describe it as sitting in a classroom, waiting for a big test, say, the SAT or its equivalent. Or maybe the feeling of knowing something too hot or too cold is going to touch your bare skin - that moment, the one of scared anticipation - that’s how I operate, how I feel, every second of every day.
They ask how they can help. How they can fix it. I sit on my therapist’s couch; it’s made of the kind of leather that is both too worn down and also unexpectedly comfortable. I tell him: too much abuse you can’t fix. I’m looking at the beds of my fingernails, maybe for answers, maybe asking to be left alone to inspect something insignificant. In both cases, I feel I can only help myself, which means I will stay stuck at square one forever. A game of Candyland where you keep spinning and never advance.
Because that’s exactly what it’s like - being trapped. Watching the other players obtain the chocolate fountain! And the lollipop forest! Not that those are actual elements of the game. But the feeling is there, my fear of being left behind as real as the stripes on the candy canes.
I watch others move on in their lives. I’m like an alcoholic, the ones who shake if they don’t have a fifth of vodka with breakfast. I’m shaking. My therapist might suggest breathing exercises, grounding techniques. But I sit, or rather stew, in the grip of something that is demanding something I can’t give it. And the thing is - I don’t know what that is.
Something is wrong. My neuron connections are giving out. I can use all these analogies, give all these examples, but nothing is going to undo years of trauma. And therein lies my problem - to use another analogy, I am Charlie Brown, slouching his shoulders, dragging his backpack across the ground behind him. I am “helpless.“ The “victim.”
I had a waitress once, and when I ordered, she said: “I love that for you.” My therapist is understanding, nods when I complain bitterly about my situation. But it’s not ok. I don’t love that for myself. I can’t afford to be the victim.
Let’s have this come full circle. I’m taking the SAT, and every answer seems to be the wrong one. I look up, raise my hand. The proctor comes over, and instead of helping, slaps my hand down.
I’m not sure if the proctor is me, or my anxiety. We are one, existing in an air-tight world where I’m never advancing, never loving the moment, lost in worry.
The lost alpha
I am trotting and I see my pack leave me behind. Stupit David has taken my place as top ultra alpha super rare. Grrrrrr. I bark at them. BARK BARK. Then I roar. ROAARRRR. They don't come back. I decicde that I am now a hobby horse rider. NEEIGGHH. I rip the nearest tree out and throw it at the pack. I am to howl so much right now. I can't hold it in. AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH. I see shart my tail. I wag it off. It flings into a bird mouth. I decide to attack me. So I remeber the baddie training and squee that bird beetween my ass cheeks. I let out a stinky stanky musty crusty spicy fart and it was so strong I it blew the fethers of gthe bird. I clentched harder and the bird eyes popped out. I let it go. I see the fart burn in the bird feathers. I sniff it and almost faint. Damn that was strong one. I look towards the sunset the wind blowing into my fur. I feel it. No the fart rash. But the wind. I decide to run. And I never felt lost again.