Taken Over

I've been having panic attacks the last few nights,
Just as I begin to settle into the idea of going to bed.
I'm not sure of the cause, though I have a few suspicions.

It's almost as if my brain simply wants to deny the idea of sleep.
The necessity.

So I go on up to the bedroom, and I take my medicine as it's prescribed, And I breathe deeply until I it feels like my whole body is going to fly apart
And at some point I fall asleep.
Then I begin to dream.

It's never pleasant.
Sometimes I make friends, good friends, friends who fill in a puzzle piece to my life
And when I wake up, I am hurt -
Deeply hurt -
By their absence.

Then there are the people who die.
In my dreams I call for them
In the morning I cry for them,
But quietly, because they're not gone and it's not a grief I am entitled to.

I can't explain why my brain is so intent on denying rest,
Why I panic at midnight
And only want to sleep in daylight

So when I take my  handful of pills for all the other ailments, I take one to sleep, too,
As if somehow this will fix everything
But I'm breaking more every day.

Unknown

I cried in the shower today but held it all in
Swallowing my grief as though it isn't mine to express
And since then I've been trying my best to ignore the terrible feeling in my middle;
The way sadness and fear and despair knot your gut into a physical undeniable breath stealing pain.
I would tell you  how I understand,
And I keep silent, swallowing secret tears, because I know you won't look past my face.

Summer Bones

The heat of Summer has settled over our shoulders.
Long days and blue skies occasionally interrupted by crashing thunder
Herald such fantastical stories of pool visits, lightening bug hunting, the pervasive smell of sunscreen and bugspray.

We've been buffeted by the weather for so long now, we are weary.
The sun reaches deep into our bones and offers sanctuary.
The Winter is far away now - the balanced moment of so far behind and so far ahead.

And yet this season, too, will march on by and bring us something new
So we are a little afraid and a little excited and for now just looking to rest.

Two Thoughts

Two Thoughts





I saw something beautiful and was overcome, so much so
That I had to turn away to compose myself.
I turned too far by mistake and we never met again.







I saw something ugly and was dismayed, so much so
That my gut wrenched in a visceral twist.
I was left breathless and huddled on the floor.

A Biography

I went to a good school with a good curriculum, led by good teachers.

I dated boys who used me up until I couldn’t shower off the shame.

I went to a good college with an interesting program and a kind academic counselor.

I watched my mother die slowly of cancer driven starvation until her morphine addiction ran the schedules and she just stopped breathing.

I got a good promotion, allowing me to work just one job to pay the bills.

I went away on business and came home to an empty bank account, and empty house, and an empty life.

I walked to the middle of the bridge and fantasized about jumping.

I opened the door to a friend who had driven seven hours to insist I get help.

My story is long, it is complex, it is more than I can explain into late nights and whiskey sours.

My story is truth and secrets and not fully known even to myself.

I don’t presume to understand anyone else’s story.

I used to write poetry;

Now I throw words up onto a page and hate the result;

I thought I had let go of these self destructive perceptions.

Bits. Dreams.

Sometimes I dream the most fantastical things until

I wake up like Dorothy,

You were there, and you were there

Though each of you were such wonderful versions of

yourselves,

Until the beauty is washed away under the showerhead

And the wonder is undermined by breakfast

And the story I try to hold onto disintegrates in the light

like frail antique paper,

Pieces blown out of my hands and lost.

Do, To

This morning I dreamt I lived in a kitchen with laundry machines instead of cabinets, a

Subtle reminder of the piles of clothes waiting for me to tend to them.

I dreamt of neighbors who are leaving dropping in to say goodbye and

Then locking the doors behind them so I have to crawl through the window

To let the dog out.

I dreamt of friends who want to be here but don’t know where to put their dishes,

On top of the washer or dryer?

And unsurprisingly after waking from this dream I was so very angry

By all the nagging worries and

Life/living/loving concerns and

Anger makes me hateful.

I was so overcome that I didn’t know how to walk away or through it all

So the kids watched TV while I muttered into my coffee and around my bagel

Typing an angry email and silently judging the people in the news.

But I still haven’t started the laundry, or bought milk, or balanced the checkbook.

Summertime Vacations

I only let the sun get me once and since I referred to myself

as tomato red I can’t hold it against them for using it repeatedly.

I didn’t sleep well, or remember to take my medicine all the time,

and I coated myself in bug spray-

The good stuff, the chemical spray can spray or the mosquitos

would have made me crazy.

And on the last day the dust was making me cough, and I’d

been too long without coffee, and

Other people’s children were pushing my limits.

But I’ll do it again next year, swearing I’ll remember the sunscreen

and to take my medicine and this time some citronella torches

and drink more coffee and other people’s children will probably

still make me crazy

But we all know these things are just how it goes sometimes

And since you want to go with me again,

I’ll go with you.

(And)

I wish I could tell you how hard it was to

Get out of bed

Walk across the room

Take a shower

Start the coffee.

I wish there was a reason that sometimes

Everything hurts

There’s not enough air.

I wish I could deal with these days

Without feeling guilty for my weakness or

Hate for myself.

I wish I could tell you that it’s all physical

Or all emotional and

I know how to fix it and

Am fixing it every day.

Three Parts

i.
I have loved. Hated. Stoked the fire of righteousness.
Let go of the flames of consummate feelings
And become a shell.

ii.
I ghost in and out of my own life like a backdoor relative,
An owl taking wing,
A shadow along the wall.

iii.
Where were you? I wondered.
Not near me.

Hiding Spaces

I crave what you have, your unabashed and seemingly limitless store of creativity.
I set goals for myself:
Do this every day.
Do this once a week.
Do this once a month.
Just try. Sometimes. Once. Again.
It's harder than it used to be.
I've let go of some of the things that torment me and find I am anchorless without them.
I've found the things that are still dragging me down and I drown before I can voice them.
Somewhere between the joy and the death there is life worth noting but I never learned the knack of seeing the inbetweens.

Usefulness

Sometimes I am so very angry, and it is a good clean burn that straightens my spine against the world.

I will not sacrifice it to correctness or feel guilty in my selfishness.

I have worked too hard to be here where I am.

Sometimes I am so very angry it beats like a drum between my temples pulling my heartbeat along in time

Marching through the crap being flung from all sides.

And I will not give up and I will not be beaten and I will not be held down

Anymore.

Sometimes I am so very angry it holds me hostage until I cannot breathe clean air and am stung by the bitterness of it.

Even so, sometimes it is a good clean burn that straightens my spine against the world.

The Pendulum

And all the sudden the balance in my brain tips precariously the wrong way and I instantly become a liar and a fraud.
Though it isn't sudden, I've been fighting for days, weeks, years, forever to feel the truth of reality.
Reality hurts, cuts more deeply than any knife I've ever wielded against myself, and I bleed.
There is no relief.
I tried to warn everyone, or at least those that matter the most to me,
I cried out in fear.
Love and reassurance have lost their power as I become a liar.
I cannot or do not know where I am in this whirlwind and
Am so horribly bereft at being caught again.

Dithering

I wonder sometimes what people will say when I'm dead.
Which eccentricity will be remembered and repeated?
How many bits of paper will surprise?
How many secrets did I manage to keep?
Then I remember: it won't matter to me. I'll be gone.
Still, I'll work harder to tell the truth, because lies will poison everything.
I have dreams, visions of these things, all blurred together and confused
As I grow old.

Half Away

I opened the door, and there it was, the moon full overhead carefully framed by all the buildings and street lights.
I stood there, staring straight up into the sky, feeling the cold creep over my skin and the light cover my face
And I wanted to weep.
Like a temperamental flower I seek the warmth and sun and long gentle days of early summer.
The crazy blackness in my head makes the night seem so frightening that I can't bear witness to it anymore.
But then, at that moment, the full moon was so breathtaking and the cold so bracing and all the blackness gave way.
I didn't realize how empty the days are without the night sky. I've forgotten the moon lit musings.
I can't find the poetry in the daylight - I think I need too much.
I can't find the moon often enough in these circumstances
And so I suppose I must change.

Confrontation

I told someone again. I used words that I wrote years ago because I've lost the connection and my current thoughts are all jumbled up.
I used the old words. It hurt.
I suppose that's the root the bottom the end the beginning the tangled web of then and now - the hurt.
I thought it was gone. Maybe it was, for awhile.
It's a thing that's never buried, never over, never gone, no matter how much I wish it away
Or lock it up
Or hide behind the daily tasks of life
And in that place of truth I am
Despaired.
How often the things we want are stripped away to our basic need
I hold on so tight and it hurts;
The jagged edges of life are uninspiring, even ugly;
Confronted, I am turning away.
Until I tell again. Using words from so long ago because I've lost the connection and my current state is so full of suffering.
Because I cannot hide, I cannot bear up under the weight of these expectations.
In the lies of my despair I cannot rephrase or remain silent.
I am absolutely certain that I am being taken over and that I am being found,
Bloodied.
It hurts.

Lacking a Proper Goodbye

Do you remember the day you stood in the fast food parking lot and yelled "Why can't you just go out and have fun anymore?"
The answer, we both knew, was the scary future in front of us. College years, and miles apart, and endless pressure to find the way forward, and most of all my starving mother.
I know we talked frequently after this moment in time. Letters and phone calls, before the prevalence of email.
I know you prayed for me, entreated me, yelled at me, loved me in your way.
Until neither of us could keep up with the emotions anymore and we just
Stopped.
In spite of all the things that came after my heart remembers this moment of sundering, in that fast food parking lot, when you yelled at me for crying on a Friday night double date.

I remember when I called to tell you my mother was going, almost gone, and broke the months long silence, hoping your voice would bring her a measure of peace.
Loose ends. That's what we had become.
It's what we have remained.
I never would have expected this outcome, but I have an enormous amount of patience for it.
We were all so young, and selfish, and lost.
Older now, I understand how often ends are left undone in this lifetime.
I still remember, though. I would like to ask if you remember, too.

Challenging Things

I have let go of all of this, or I thought I had, and now it is swirling all around me in a dizzying display of light, trying to lure me in, telling lies.
I am determined to keep my hands open, to turn away towards the truth, to finally be divested and free.
It is so much harder than I had expected.
The steps forward are mounting and taken in full they are overwhelming.
I made a promise.
I've lied to myself over and over, cursed my own deceit. I have created whole fictions from kernels of reality until I can't tell the difference for myself anymore.
Until the puppetry falls to the floor and the disaster is revealed.
The truth is like the wind, teasing and pulling, capable of more than I can imagine
But for now I'm stuck in the light of these lies, waiting for them to torment someone else willing to pick them up and carry them forward.

Gone

I don't try to wash you off my skin anymore, I've shed so many layers since I saw you last I am nearly unrecognizable.
I've replaced your possession with peaceful surrender to one who treasures the gift and gives back a treasure.
You don't know me anymore and you never really did and I've forgotten your name.

It's all become some sort of dream that I wouldn't wish on anyone with all the details mixed up and filled in from fiction.
This disconnect from reality has led me to believe I must be wrong.
Until I reconnect my reality and know that the details don't matter in my reckoning because
You don't know me anymore and you never really did and I've forgotten your name.

The parts of me you stole away have been gone so long I don't even mourn them anymore.
I want to shout into your ears that I've forgiven myself and I've learned how to sleep at night, most of the time, and the wakefulness has nothing to do with you.
I finally spoke the truth and the lie and the meanings are lost; I won't seek it, I won't hate anymore, I won't hold on so tight.
You don't know me anymore and you never really did and I've forgotten your name.

I am so much more than I used to be. I am triumphant and beautiful and kind.
I will love the person I was and the one I became and the one I am becoming and I will learn to live with this as a part of my truth and my experience.
I have replaced you. I have forgotten your name.

Fractures

I heard the car go by and looked towards the window, trained to respond, as though identifying some kind of threat.
I can hear - the wind in the trees / the crickets singing in the night / the train going by in the distance / the trucks passing by on the highway / the cat jumping away from the table / the dog snoring on the couch / the flag rustling outside the door / the car parking down the street.
The bottle is cold and damp in my hand, heavy, and the label is wrinkled.
The breeze through the window, augmented by the fan above, cools my skin near to discomfort.

There were words I wanted to rearrange
Overwhelmed.
Interrupted.
Lost.