Thoughts Loud Chaotic Messy. Put them somewhere Or let them wreck me. Break me. Silence All else In me Until all that’s left Is β something β Other Than me. Write it out Until I can’t hear The sound Of the endless echo Of whatever these Beasts are Shouting about. Until they’re not So loud. Until they’re so Far out And separate And far away That no trace Of them In sight and sound Can be found For miles And minds around β
My feelings for you are Holding up the line Ruthlessly barring access To all else I Feel inside Starving all my words Having All access, denied And keeping me From moving forward Moving on from Our time Together Moments I thought Would persist Forever Until a message in My inbox Informed me You were Not to return, No, never No goodbye Or one last night To sweeten The bitter Ache Of a love I knew Wasn’t one-sided And now In the Absence of you I must watch Helplessly While my Heart Lonely diesβ¦
I’ve heard of authors, whether they made it big by industry standards, or by their own, who have walked away from publishing new material after releasing one or two books.
I used to wonder wtf that was about, because getting published was one of my goals.
And then I saw the other side of this gig, the world that exists beyond my own.
The business end of things. The politics of it. The reader spaces that don’t know anything but toxicity. The active trolls who don’t know how to be anything else. The competition. The absolute pretense and the loss of self just to fit in. The playing of the game β
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Something inside the artist dies, when the truth of the business end of their dreams is revealed to them.
All the revelations! And now, I get it. I absolutely get it.
I get the burning desire to preserve the beauty of the dream, and the art that is birthed from it. I understand wanting to protect the magic of the Gift from those who would seek to reduce it to a hobby, or something that anyone can do.
Even if that means stepping away β stepping back β and keeping it close to the vest, where only a few can access it. I get it.
Because really, people are exhausting. They have this Herculean ability to wreck beautiful things. And I say this confidently, knowing that I too am a person.
My eyelid started twitching Twitching And all the superstitions Started clicking Speaking About how someone I hadn’t seen for a Little bit Would be reappearing And my immediate thought Was of you. You. Who walked away With no warning Releasing β Easing The weight of you From me β Now that I am Recalling β I felt a lot better As I watched you walking Away and out of My life, Saying that βSense came calling.β As if you’d had flight Of mind By being with me, And that you’d finally Seen the light Just because we couldn’t Agree Or Share the same sentiment On someone else’s Thoughts And that difference Couldn’t be fixed Even if we spoke on it Because You being you And me being me Was too insurmountable And our individualism Was too mighty a thing Than was comfortable For you β Twitching β TWITCHING Eyelid Foreshadowing the coming Of a person I did Take active steps In the anti-stalk But I guess the fates Decided That it was time we talked β
I tried to cry But the tears wouldn’t Come, and so I Tried to write It all down But the words Left my mind And then I got My music on And I Tried to block out The world And I realized It was doing the same And almost all Of us Were Trying to Deal with our pain In the same way By burying the Echoes of our Torment And overwhelm Under the Voices of others And how they Designed Ways To deal with theirs Instead of Facing our darkness And trying To conquer it So we don’t Have to hear What our Souls Are screaming At us β
It feels like living and life Right now is to despair. Coz life Really doesn’t care About you and me. It doesn’t care where you are Where you’re going Or where you’ve been. It doesn’t give a shit About you And your feelings. It rocks your noggin And keeps it moving. It doesn’t give you time To begin your healing. It prepares to replace you At the moment of your leaving. It doesn’t pause for effect When it hears you screaming. It just leaves you there Like you hold no meaning. Life chews you up And then spits you out And because it holds your future You go back for another round. Because you can’t afford to stop now Because you risk being Trampled if you remain on the ground. Life, as it is right now? Exhausts you and Grinds you down Until It’s drained you of every last Bit of joy you’ve found. Life has you wondering daily β How loud Must I scream Before the world Even hears a sound?
To tell me That At least I’m ‘alive’ Is a cruel thing to Say and I will not hear Of it. Have you forgotten That Part of the Business Of my employment Is to be there at The start of life And the end of it? Do you think that Just because I’m breathing That means Every single thing In my life is Better for it? Until you’ve seen What it’s like To see a heart beating With no life force Attached to it Do not speak Anything of it β
I hate this part Of the long night Where my body Can’t contend with Being prone Or upright And the headache Zips back and forth From my nasal bridge To my brow line And I can’t decide What feels better Gazing into the darkness Or closing my eyes And I search hard But I can’t find That restful sleep That I need right Now So I can be awake By daylight To do the things That come with life Like Cook and clean And laundry and bathing me But by the time The sun rises I’m exhausted and Aching I can’t stand The recalibration The shift back Into morning waking And night sleeping Like a regular human Being With regular hours And healthy eating And hydration And relaxed reading β Now my energy goes To resting And remembering to breathe…
To you and me And our moons, spinning. Telling us, somehow Our moods Are swinging. Back and forth, between Life and Living. And sinking Deeper into a Darkness we Cannot win. To you and me Whose minds Are telling Us that maybe We shouldn’t be Breathing. And on a bad day We start believing All those voices That keep on preaching β To you and me Who fight Until our knuckles Are bleeding To face these days Despite How we’re feeling And what we’re thinking And what we’re concealing From a world that Could never understand Just what we’re dealing With β
My King. You’re probably writing Sonnets for Some random girl. Telling her How you’re Going to Give her the world. Convincing yourself That you love her. Listen You better Light those up And watch while They burn β Stop playing around, Kind Sir And see sense And return Home To me. Where you’re Needed, I’ve grown weary And depleted In your absence From me. While you’ve been Trying to feed Your soul β A role Designed Just for me. I already know That I don’t Come packaged in The aesthetic of Your mold But I am magic. I am gold. A Queen Made For your throne. Listen, “I don’t want your Money, Honey, I want your love!” And our time Together, Believe it. So Come write For me And mean it β