Panic

I am told these endless tales

Myths and legends, of how I prevail

Tell me where then, this strength you cite-

has gone, and why I feel so frail?

At any moment my blood will stop

It will back into my skull and pop

Dripping down each empty socket

Breaking my rib cage and pooling my pockets

Back the way it was before

The days I was dying, the dreams I abhor

The memories of childhood stitched up and fixed

A traumatic memory, I endless resist

WHY

CAN’T

I

JUST

REST

Trastorno

Fear is

The unwillingness to cut my fingernails

Lest I be without a weapon.

Expecting everyone to hurt me

With every passing second.

Trauma is

Unbridled rage when someone is flippant about the two ton metal monster they command with the twist of a wheel.

Catastrophic thought is

The absolute assurance that someone is dead

When they don’t pick up the phone.

PTSD is not

Being careless with emotions; immature and loud

Over-sensitivity because of insecurity

Or disliking certain sounds

Post traumatic stress is

Sweating through your decaying dreams

Waking to silent, dehydrated screams

Covered in despair, certain the lives in your sleep would still be out there

If not for your own failure.

It’s

The inability to face that room

The panic that comes over you

When a movement doesn’t belong; someone’s behavior is jarring or

Wrong.

It’s bracing for blows that may never come

After so many years of not being ready and getting knocked down

You can’t bear the possibility

Of another blindside,

so you

Expect pain

And torment, crime

And death

And blood and fear and trauma

All. The. Time.

Real?

Not even sunlight can banish the storms

The tempest that turns all it touches to what I abhor

Tributes of gold that flow from the trees;

Touching the sky to flame, to beauty

Nevertheless, my eyes protest

I do not see light. I do not see grace

A simple drive and what do I find?

Woman and child, together outside

God, they’re in agony!

Holding what’s left, someone’s final breaths

They weep, clad in flesh…

A blink and a jolt, I shudder

Reality returns?

This is not a vigil.

Just chores. Elbows deep in a bag of mulch.

Relent

Can. I drift. Away. Someplace

Calling friends new and old

Disgrace

Can I float down every stairwell

Ever built, destroyed, or wrought to sell

Can I curl up inside my wretchedness

Among the thoughts that call me

Worthless

Can I give in to the pounding rain

That floods my brain and calls my name

Can I let it drown me again?

Who will stop me if I let them in?

Deed

I no longer crave the Roma-life

I want an end to my internal strife
I don’t want new colors, or feelings, or fear
I want something solid and safe, and real

I’m tired of thrills, of feeling these highs
The lows with which they are tangled are not worth the skies
I’m sick of the endless shrieking in my mind
I don’t want to be homeless, I want someone to

FIND


stop letting me wander. Give me a home. I’m tired of sorrow, the tragic-alone

Please someone convince me I’m sane
The world grows in volume
every
day

if I …….. this path I’ll be …. anyway

Christmas ramblings

Dark hands fetch

My sodden mind

Dark words fed

By sullen rhyme.

Alone and lost

Each numbed-up thought

Escapes to question me.

Who am i now?

What do I seek, entrapped

Here by my own

reality?

Alone and confused

The ripples elude

I cannot find

Their center.

Each frozen stream

Unsourced, unseen, it

Tangles up my path.

I speak aloud to

Air them out

Though not a word is meant.

How do I leave? Who should i keep?

Why fight this all again? If i could flee

And be somebody, then

Who & where would I be?

If any wish could be my life,

What then would it look like?

Seethe

I know. The ebb and flow

I am familiar with the highs and lows

Someday soon, my joy will resume

The grief will flee to allow me

To breathe.

I feel your heartbeat’s chaos

The fluttering thump of rest

It fills me with dread

Reminds me of death

My own uncertainties flooding my head.

I remember the times I didn’t know what to expect