Poison Brewers

All it takes
a single drop

a word
a look
a laugh
Poison

to rot out a pure heart.
tiny things
Subtle
enough to turn a person
sour
bitter
resentful.

The world is tainted
Poisoned
and ruled by evil.
goodness
and decency
shamed away
into dark corners
to suffer in helplessness
and loneliness.

Why
are humans
such terrible creatures
to poison each other
in such a pointless way?

Even acts of valor
a kindness
a favor
saving a life
clapped at, then forgotten
“last weeks news”
or all looked down upon
shamed for bothering
thank you’s are ignored
holding doors for others is strange
Poison taints the meaning
destroys the purpose.
What is the point
of being nice,
when it is only ridiculed?
If it doesn’t fix the world?
One thankful heart
versus ten that hate you.

Poison creates more poison brewers.
Only few survive
the process of
that drop of malice
to live outside evil
and even those
are forever cursed
with the bitterness
and loneliness
of a long human life.

Do you not see
you are destroying the world?

I would put my mother in a snow globe

I would put my mother in a snow globe
where time stands still
safely tucked
far away from the world
up in a tower
in a castle
frozen in liquid
under glitter-snow
safe away from things
So she would stay
the same
as she’s always been
who I thought she was
when I was younger.

Mothers are supposed to be
smiles
and hugs
comfort
a shelter
from the storms of life

But
mine became a monster
I want to trap
and cage to keep
as an example
of what a mother shouldn’t
look like.
I want to keep her
away from
the things that turn her
into this creature
with the familiar face.

I would keep her in a snow globe
safe inside
a glass prison
perfect and beautiful
under the glitter-snow
where nothing can touch her
taint her even more
where she can heal
and where
she can’t touch others
as the creature she now is.

Fighting the Current

Fighting the current is hard, but I don’t want to just let it take me away…I am stuck, just swimming for my life, swimming in place. I am making no progress and slowly just inching further backwards. 

I see others, they let the current take them, but when they decide to fight, its easy for them! They fly! Why am I stuck? I need to find to summon the willpower, but I don’t have the ability to do even that! Where do I find the means when all my focus it put into the fight?

Is the fight worth it? Everyone says yes, but I see no evidence of this. They all let the waters take them, how can they know? They think letting the current take you IS the fight; they do not know what fighting really is. They think I am fighting against something unnecessary, something that only exists for me, and if I just let go everything will become easy. Some of them fight for whatever lies upriver, but they don’t come back and tell those struggling how to do it. Is continuing the fight worth it? Is it better to let go? Or should I just get the fuck out of this river?

I know I am not making much sense.

To everyone else, I am fighting an invisible wall. I give myself these mental problems and this anxiety by choosing to overthink things and think things the wrong way. They give me advice on how to change that, but I don’t want to change that. This is what makes me me. No one understands the real me, no one accepts it, the real me is a freak who needs to be fixed. Their advice makes me angry. Of course an animal would resist being caged! How can they not see this?! If I said it, they would act like I am being ridiculous. Like I am being crazy to not accept this “wonderful” life I could have if I just give in to the current.

How many times has my father said I am acting crazy? How many times has mom said I’ll feel better once I start doing things properly? And CD? Always trying to control me, even in the tiny subtle ways that normal people don’t notice until it is too late. They think selling myself for tickets into this god-awful system will make everything bad and wrong disappear, because money cures everything, right?!  If I had money, the first thing I would do is fly the fuck away from here.

They mean well, but they’re blind. They want me to join in on their system, because they think it will help me. If I tell them they are wrong, I am crazy. If they loved me, they wouldn’t control me, they would understand and enable me!

Talking to E is helping me realize this. He is different. He understands. He is like a hand reaching out from the shore to help me out of the fucked up river, instead of these others telling me to just let it take me. He won’t try to fix me, he will enable me. If he is able to give me the strength to fight the current, then he will have saved my life.

Ice Giants

Heart
at the center
of blackness
burns yellow death
pressured
by freezing cold.
A bulb, flickering
faint
under thousands of tiny eyes
hopeful, far away
lights in the darkness.
An infinite crushing
coldness.

Heart
drags
shadowed corpses
splintered ice giants
at the far edges
of a bleak eclipse.
They hang
there forever
in deafening silence
life gone
far beneath the surface.

Heart
lets fall a crescent
light. warmth
over a glacial wasteland
it makes cracks
heat pours in.
Tremors, as cold
is shaken off
and new life
melting from
a burning core
erupts free
to take a breath.

Heart
burns yellow life
emerging
from cracks
after a deep sleep
to feel the air.
Dust
rubs free. Warmth
radiates
and grows
a new world
to be made
into a home.

 

People are Lucky

People are so lucky.
they don’t realize
what precious things they have
surrounding them. they’re happy
but all good things
always get taken
for granted by those
who have the privilege
whether they love
or hate the things they have.

Some of them are
fake happy smiles
hollow words of love
idle complaints about nothing
complaining about
these riches they possess
the people they love.
These people don’t realize
what precious treasures
they have between them.
It sickens me. I am envious.
It’s a waste.
I would not take
such happiness for granted.

Those commercials on TV
about medicine, vacuums
life insurance. with the happy music.
They break me down
into a waterfall.
Children laughing, crying,
holding onto their mothers shirt
baby bottles, tiny hands
enveloped by a fathers strong fingers.
Two people
a tiny treasure between them
I have to look away.
Happy Families:
my own little trauma trigger.

The museum has a display:
fetal tadpole darlings
floating frozen, ghosts in glass.
A black and white room
of tiny dead babies.
The Development of a Human Zygote
it used to fascinate me
but now
those dead darlings hang
like bodies on a gallows
strung up for the wide eyed crows.
Nightmare fuel.
I can’t go into that room anymore.

This poem makes me shake
to write. but with tears
like a cold river washing
through me. the words cleanse
my poor broken heart
and take the pieces far away…

People are so lucky.
They have treasures all around them.
instead of nightmares. Ghost faces
in the dark corners of a room. Staring
dead hopes haunting my shoulders.
They don’t realize how lucky they are.

 

My Old Friend It

I have an imaginary friend…
I call her It. A stupid name
given a long time ago
by a girl being emo.
She’s a reflection of myself
but with dead eyes and white hair
and a stupid sneer
a thing that lives in my old bedroom
she lived in my sanctuary
right next to my soul
she whispered to me at night
she kept me awake, tormented me
she gave me sharp tools,
told me to use them
I couldn’t say no to her.
They made things feel better
but I didn’t want it that way.
She was a constant torment
fighting me, trapping me,
holding me down, hurting me
holding paper cutters to my face
I don’t see her much anymore,
but sometimes she surprises me
shows up scratching at my window
Feeling her watching, keeping her out
is just as painful as the blades.
I don’t want to kill myself
I just wish I didn’t exist
but It shows up sometimes
to remind me it’s the same thing.
She’s around less often,
she still lives at that old room
but she likes to visit.
It’s hard to shut the door
in the face of such a longtime friend.
Even with her poor methods
she was still the only one
who wanted to comfort me.