Thursday, May 26, 2016

Be it destiny or gravity I want no part of it.

The flashing pain of being thrown to the floor.
The feeling of his vice like grip around your neck.
Your brain screaming, begging for oxygen as you pass out.
The panic when you see the rage in his eyes as he comes towards you.
The cold wet metal of the RV panel grinding up against your shoulder blades as he sputters rage in your face.
The gaping wound in your heart that knowing that she sided with him.  

These sensory ghosts, they haunt me everywhere I go.  
Distance, time, perspective, acceptance and forgiveness have been my shield.  
Denial, self deception, weed, booze have been my sWord. 
sWord.
Like gossamer wings in a hurricane they never last for long.
All these years fighting the darkness within me.  
It was a symptom not the source.

My source, my rage.
An endless fountain, white hot and blinding.  
Filled with all the things I swore I would never be and could never do.
An ultra dense star of pain surrounded by black.
I feel it like a pit in my stomach and an ache in my temples.  
How do you contain a star?

When that star shines my head fills with shadows.
This is where the ghosts dwell.  
Fueled by every failure, every lapse in control.
Fires stoked until the star consumes me again.
The cycle unbroken from the dawn of my time.


Lapse, relapse, repeat until you die.

The evidence begins to pile up.
The case not quite closed.

Am I destined to become my father?



So in other news I know I am depressed because that is the only time I write shitty self reflective poetry.  I have no right to be as angry and frustrated as I am.  My life is pretty awesome and I have done so much and have so so many amazing people around me.  My temper is so short right now it is like I am white-nuckling through life.  I have no idea when the next thing is going to set me off.

I know this relates to my general anxiety levels and I know that comes from some shitty parenting combined with a family wide genetic pre-dispositions to anxiety issues.  But I just fucking hate it when I see him looking back at me eyes squinted and teeth clenched.

I have also found out some things.  More family secrets that confirmed things I already suspected.  Everyone is a fucking victim and mental illness is a bitch.  How utterly mundane, sad and obvious it all is.

I am trying to set my own path but keep running over ground well walked by my predecessors. I know I am smart enough to get out of this cycle but it is so so hard some days to even get out of bed.

I know I can do it I just don't know how.



1 comment:

ReneƩ said...

I'm still here...and I'm giving you a big old Yankee bear hug over the internets.