Chaotic Technicality

Music I listened to while typing this poem out:

Without You – Oh Wonder

I didn’t want to push, rush the chaos                                                                     Oh good old chaos, destruction                                                                           reconstruction of this mind digging torture

You know, no one can drill in                                                                                 deep where there is only surface now                                                                       so get chipping away

Use your best tools and your latest techniques                                                 mine are so old and as concrete                                                                                     I don’t worship things anymore                                                                               but I like the idea that I’m already                                                                           creating a home for myself

After I leave this dreaded head space                                                                           I walk around so weak and I used to                                                                     appear quiet because I didn’t want                                                                     people to know about me

Now I trudge around dragging my demons                                                       along my skin for people to see but                                                                             I don’t bother with quick answers

Conversations, I love those. Intellectual                                                             spill your cries and what makes you cringe.

I live for what’s holding people back so                                                                     I can compare my pain I need out,                                                                             so maybe stop digging now and                                                                               just throw yourself ontop of me                                                                             while my body sleeps and                                                                                         soul drifts towards the bottom

Hospital Corners

Like a hotel, our bodies are being rented out                                                   temporarily I squander around                                                                                       for rooms that aren’t occupied                                                                                       but every spot is no longer vacant.

As I round the corners, slightly folded                                                                   into eachother like a hospital bedsheet                                                                       I realize that I don’t have Schitzophrenia                                                                 but I have conversations with people who aren’t there

Are they? Maybe they’re all the versions of myself talking to people they used to know.

Induced preventions

Ranting, screaming through my fingers but for some reason there is a block

Where, when why are there so many things stopping me, i’m allowing them to stop me, prevent me from simply waking up from my zombie-induced body bag

Simply trudging, walking, running through the subway tracks, hoping they’ll cave in and I’ll fall off the brink, edge shattered, sharp.

Just finding my way through the slow dancing legs the trees are waving to me, at me.

Employed By Depression

I keep running away from almost every opportunity I get, especially with jobs.

But in reality, depression has become like a job to me over the past 10 or 11 years.

It’s consumed almost every ounce of me. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or not doing, it doesn’t matter if I’m with people or alone.

Every other day if not everyday is a constant struggle with having too much sleep or not sleeping enough, eating or not eating at all, feeling alone yet needing to isolate myself so that I don’t annoy people.

People tell me to find a hobby, to get up and do something, but even when I find a hobby.. or do something I feel I’m decent at, I either lose interest by finding another interest or I get bored or give up because it’s too difficult.

What seems to be my rock bottom, usually doesn’t feel like it’s enough to help me soar to the surface.

Yet despite all of these things, I’m still fighting even when I’m on my last straw.

I’m still fighting even when I feel as though I’m at my lowest point.

Someone once told me that it’s sometimes harder to let go than it is to hold on.

That may not be true for some people, but I feel as though it’s true for me personally because no natter how much I want to give into letting my body give up, no natter how many times I run away and create a new identity, no matter how many times I try to give up, for some reason, I snap out of it. I find something that motivates me without even searching for it and it’s enough until it isn’t enough again.

Falling Salt

Split my bones with your breath and hold me close as I’m slowly breaking apart

Melt my skin by the touch of your salt tainted hands as my world enfolds

Tear into me where it hurts the most with your every word as I sit still and fall

Work through to the core of my soul as my tears leak unto your very presence

– Show me that there’s more than what’s behind your curtains. // B.L.

Satan’s Scalp

One minute, soaring so high
So high even the sky was jealous

Two minutes, saying things on the top of my scalp
Not bad, but annoying

Times have changed, zones
Prone to become something I can only tolerate intoxicated and under the knife

And all I had wanted minutes prior, were my wings to be clipped and my feathers to drop
A shell if you will, to leave behind

And all I felt was the loudness of my bludgeoned body parts, lightened inside the drowned space

Confided, but not claustrophobic
Tense, but not shaken

Demons calm, so intensely, immensely calm

Bludgeoned Glows

Where will the skies take us now if our feet won’t open up the ground
Spaces thoroughly invaded, voids unfulfilled but you wouldn’t know
Just look at the pavement, how it glows with dead goals and ambitions

Beaten paths have been sought out only to be brought out
Broken down, death ridden, bed hidden among the rose trampled temper

Wandering the caves of the infected youths
Bludgeoned, impacted heavily with only the finest eyes
Creatures tending to the gardens of our headscapes

You told me that we have galaxies inside of us and that you let them out sometimes
Some people may find sadness among that, I come across beauty

The stars align so that people can search for their own ways to connect the dots to create things inside that not everyone can tell

Such as the mirrors, we look to the night for answers we need
Reality versus the livelihood of the sunrise
Fake and temporary

I’ve sought out for destiny inside of my turned over past self and I seek shelter over and underneath the peaked skyline