yesterday

mock sleep, mock exercise, a few
flimsy stretches, shower and stefan at easton
sunlight to make amends for my cloudy eyes,
for the haze of smoke and regret and dark
displacement, my empty self
a cup too full of coffee, my stomach wants nothing
my head, pounding - not actually pounding, but i
feel the familiar ache
like every other familiar ache
silent sculpting and an opportunity for solidity
solidarity but i throw my invisible hands
up and wait for the inevitable power tsunami,
for the orange cup to empty itself
strings of hair and broken nerves
barb said my brain is broken - the fuck
i feel sick, my physical body finally catching
up to my in-repair workshop, my self-disintegrating
system
i decide to not take a pill and my world crumbles
insides knotted, guts in the back of my imagination
a short story and a short existence
he steadily working to create, me steadily working
against all creation, all self, all time

3/22/11 pieces of my journal

3am, half naked smoking on Tomi's front door step,
welcome mat indeed, listening to and feeling the rain, a breeze,
a chill up my bare legs, thin braless tee, crouching and then standing
then crouching again, pushing air out of me,
breathing back in only to lose again
waiting for a stream of tears, for my meds to appear
or for me to appear
maybe in my bed or in someone's arms or maybe just appear to be
like the rest of them
not care about everyone not caring like the rest of them
my body is trapped somewhere...

a portion of my 3am scribbles on tues 3/22

stefan

i wait i wake

i wake up every day and think of ways to kill myself
reasons methods
wonder what i'd accomplish with an extra week, year, decade
i go back to sleep to ease the thoughts
i play music to mirror my sadness
reflect deflect
i twist stretch and twist my body
force myself to
feel monitor
my breathing
i wake up some days and decide to just dull the pain a bit
a pill a body a cup of tea a binge a purge
all
amplified repeated
throbbing death ebbing existence
confession crying
diminished understated
i smoke another cigarette for the burn
cough
i bring memories to surface for the pain
clenching
truth in the
strangeness distance meaninglessness
a long hallway paced by the sanely insane
doctors nurses pills meals groups
strange distant meaningless
a patient comes a patient goes
no contact information
maybe a facebook friend request another numbered blank face
i felt home
now i wake up see familiar faces go familiar places
i feel death creeping closer
though i meditate and re-energize
become lithe sway into feline instincts
i crawl into bed more frequently
pray to buddha i don't have to wake up again
i scribble the nothingness of days
i wait

nothing

nothing about this is working.