Posts Tagged ‘ postaday2013 ’

If I could

I want to sleep. I have a lot on my mind though.

I have not slept well often in the last several years. Post traumatic stress is a motherfucker on your subconscious.

I have special people to me, in my life, that suffer it’s awful effects. I wish that I were able to take all of their pain and make it my own so that they would no longer have to worry about the next minute, hour, day.

I know that I am strong, I don’t think that any of them are weak, it’s more that I know I was given broad shoulders and that I’d gladly carry their portion of the burden for them, even for just a little while.

Long enough for them to be able to reach deep and find a genuine smile. Some laughter amid the pain, hope rising from the ashes.

I wish I could.

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Maybe

Sitting in the dark, letting the air of many fans wash over me. It dries out my contact lenses. But I can’t hear the air moving or the noise the fans make over the music pouring into my ears from the very phone I’m typing this on.

I have been trying to pour my writing into something other than this, my personal and public blog. I have a need to be more than just verbose but creative.

I can’t shake the feeling that having an ability, a talent, is a responsibility. A contract you’ve unknowingly signed to use that to make things better for yourself and for others.

Maybe I’m just crazy.

Needs New Tunes

I am sofa king sick of almost all of my current 40gb’s of music,

Yes, all bought.

If you want great bands to keep making great stuff…open your wallet.

High-Jacked

What is there to say.

That’s a statement, not a question.

In some ways I think these long absences of I from writing in these very public blogs that only a few people know of are what generate the things I have to say.

I tend to speak inwardly more than outwardly. One of those things I still work on.

I have had odd premonitions at times throughout my life. My “danger sense” has been honed to a very fine edge.

I don’t like what I can feel coming, I know it’s going to be bad.

I don’t know how I know these things. I just do.

Hmmmm, seems my original intent for this post has been hijacked for an ephemeral feeling – fleeting yet so sure.

Over a rainbow

As I look back at my life I can’t quite shake the feeling that something has been trying to kill me since the minute I arrived here.

Taken apart it’s a (too) long series of near misses, narrow escapes and sometimes terrible injury.

But I still draw breath.

Bring it.

Life(less) Magic

Where does the magic go when it leaves?

I get these glimpses, a stir, almost like a tunnel-shake in my peripheral vision and I can almost feel.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to have no walls, no borders or boundaries. It’s a completely alien concept to me.

I’ve had walls since before I could form coherent sentences.

Some lives are more broken than others, but only on the inside, only where nobody will see the me I see when I see me. All of you get a facsimile, I learned to hide before I learned anything else, it’s my Dexter Morgan moments that you’ll never get to see.

There’s this image in my mind, a chalkboard and the words “hope is a four letter word” scrawled with haste, as if written during an escape attempt.

That’s your whisper in the dark, the half-glimpsed form, the cold wind tickling the back of your neck – like a kiss of death.

Faceless and formless, just a vast darkness that claims anything it touches.

Somewhere in there is a boy silently screaming, soundless tears burning clean furrows down dirty cheeks. Fists balled, white-knuckled with impotent rage.

Nobody hears the quiet ones, the ones who scream inside, who create a version of acceptable to show the world; mine feels two-dimensional.

As if I could step out from behind it and you’d all see it was really made out of cardboard the whole time.

Real life doesn’t work like that. Not when your subconscious mind built a fortress before you even knew what one was and then crammed you into it to keep those terrifyingly real things that happen to people from ever being able to touch you again…it leaves a sort of trail, a psychic slash in the mind, like a neon-lit river in the darkness, one that fills brimful of all the normal emotions that should be flowing in and are instead channeled out and away: sometimes you get splashed but you’re dry before you fully realize it.

That’s what it feels like today.

Eh, meh, heh.

I wrote a really long post.

I deleted all of it.

All you get is the vague hint that I wrote something I didn’t want to share.

Something that I never wanted to be able to revise or revisit.

Odd feeling that.