Blind

Smeared streak across glass–

Prune-like pulp chunk,

Blasted splat to barrier.

Vacantly gulping–

Eyeball-seeking,

The other side.

Embossed in “la la” afterglow,

A faded twirly skirt no one wears,

In a vacant room–

11th floor–

A light was left on.

Spatula’d off the surface–

Plorped into a dustbin,

Mingling with the glops–

Deposits within firmament.

Flatness

Back from event this evening, many tired. My body hurts, and breathing wildfire smoke all afternoon was not a friend. I feel stretched, like thousands of tiny hooks are trying to peel off my skin. Achy creaks and general grunty responses are commonplace.

Good was dispensed this afternoon, assuredly. I muscled up and strapped on the happy smiles professional guise. La la! Have a happy fun!

Retreating to my soft place now, I recall how I was haunted by music today. Their faces came back to me. I saw things, and felt. I remembered. It was largely not a good thing.

All day it has been this way. I need rest, peace, sleep. I tried to do a good job, and I was told that I had. Positive affirmations. Progress. Steps forward, despite foreboding

It’s just me now. There will never be another. I am all there is left. I must go forward.

Necessary Avoidance

I am endeavoring not to persist in polar judgement of things, and I do believe this is true in most recent cases. However…

I have learned that one of those areas that is still firmly polarized is my past loves. I can’t have them in my life at all, regardless of capacity. I have learned that there is no benefit in looking back, and the dead still do not rise up and walk amongst us last time I checked. The past is buried and gone, while the trigger on many memories can still be invoked and is active. This is the worrying aspect of my necessary avoidance.

The remembering is pain unrequited; a loss of unrealized potential. The devastation of a incinerated investment of love and trust, fouled by my own mistakes of circumstance. They are a disemboweled remnant of something beautiful that will never be anything more than the pile of organs and blood left splattered on the floor, regardless of my desire. I have tried too many times to resuscitate, staring the obvious impossibility down the barrel, and surprised when I’m shot in the face. I tire of this dynamic.

My own feelings are still not under control, at all. Even on a daily basis, it is a battle to go and do. The inciting agony of interference or invited contact from the past is too much to accept while straining to maintain balance. I can’t have anyone else now, and I won’t invite new people to participate in any relational capacity again. I am unfit physically and mentally for the task, and that is not debatable.

I don’t want to see, feel or think about it anymore. There is nothing there. There will not be anything in the future. I have no interest in this at all, and will avoid inviting any risk in the upcoming waning remainder.

It hurts, but “goodbye” is all that there is. I tried, but I was wrong to try. I was in poor judgement to think that the old soul would retain enough nutrients to allow something to grow. It is the past: unchanging and fading into oblivion. The future is all I have left, and I refuse to spend it pining for others.

I’ve wasted too much time as it is. The arrow points away from these contemplations, and so, I follow. Evidence says, move on… so, I try.

Responseless

Sounding pang of a hammer slam–

Wailing with the escaping anguish,

The cries fade in the clattering noise.

Hollow echoes, desperate and resounding,

Hurt the stone walls with their shrieking scrapes–

Almost words, but more a feeling.

Banging on into the distance,

Rattling–

Hollow of remembrance,

Soaked in the flavors of now.

The drops peel off corners,

Plated hard and unfractured.

Puddling to be dissolved,

Nothing but the soft hiss–

Of the silence underground.

Turns Out…

Consider this a post a notification of Blog redaction Concerning my previous post titled I Stand, Accused and resulting comments.

In response to the comments: I am still willing to discuss my behavior in relation to my exes and how my mental illness or other states cause them harm or trauma. I think engaging in a discussion about this sort of thing could be constructive. However, I think participation is still strictly contingent upon some form of mutual respect and not complete vehemence.

I do vastly prefer constructive conversation opposed to destructive and hateful word-chucking (which is all that was fundamentally happening).

So with that, I have had a very thought-provoking and emotion-assailing 36 hours, but now the hope for useful discourse on the topic of my transgressions is gone.

I will, no doubt, have some form of ambiguous summary failing to disclose vital facts of the matter but tempting with scintillating adjectives which imply, but do not overtly suggest anything.

I’m the same me I was 30 minutes ago, and getting ready for another fun-smelling day tomorrow.

 

Inertia

Good morning.

I have been struggling today. I’m sure all this talk of the past has likely given away the reason for my constant deliberation. It has brought words, thoughts and potent feelings back into the forefront. I don’t interpret this as a crisis, but as an opportunity to test my skills.

There is a process to moving through events, one that pays appropriate attention to their components while also softening the harshness of old wounds. Nothing in terms of circumstance will be changed by my own thoughts alone and I have long ago abandoned hope for deliberation or any sort of resolution. So, today I have been thinking, and churning. I have done the healthy physical walking thing, which has helped normalize. I did not stagnate in isolation, I had my words, and now, I’m working.

I’m NAMI Helpline guy today, and two full days at the office Tuesday – Wednesday. On Wednesday night I’m going to an LGBTQ + Mental Health meeting in the community. I did learn, after Pride, that NAMI doesn’t offer a specific program or service targeted at this population. I thought that was odd, considering the potential for Mental Illness to thrive there seems high. I’m hoping to learn a lot from the presentation and schmooze with everybody after it’s over. I did great after the NAMI status meeting helping out and being friendly with all the new people I met. I did feel very happy about myself that night, and as this week begins, I am already being similarly reinforced.

Today my only Helpline call was so gracious, and thanked me for hearing her (her son was in crisis) as she struggled through a difficult time. She wanted to know how long I would be on today, and when next I would be on the Helpline. I have had similar feedback in previous weeks, even to the point of one of them asking if I would take his brother on as a client (I did not).

I’m not a bad person. I may have been someone who has done painful, regrettable things in the past, but I am not that same personality silhouette at all at this moment. I am not living a model of continued harm to those I profess to love, and casting my personal responsibility on to others or abandoning it altogether. I have done that; it is just as gross and lacking in merit as it sounds. I have stopped being someone I did not want to be, and forged myself in to a man who is proud and has a purpose in this life. I intend to affect reality, improve the standard of living, uplift the mistreated and minorities so that all have a seat at the table of society. I feel my heart, and I’m guided by a morality and purpose that points a direction I am unequivocally proud of.

I live the life I know I need to. I am not a morose penitent resigned to guilt, achieving nothing. I am a light. I will be seen, and I am already filling the world around me with illumination. I can say that, because it’s just fucking true. A huge pile of evidence points to a man who is confident, effusive and eager to challenge the prejudicial norms of society.

I’d love to stay and chat, but I have research to do for my grant and sections to write for the submission. Hope you are up to something just as productive!