One day, with Betty of this blog, I went exploring in the woods and took a number of shots. Here’s one! Following a quick edit, though.
I had been planning to do a whole post with multiple shots…but, you know, time, LIFE, all that stuff. Currently cranking out 2 or more poems a day, which is awesome. Having the WordPress community support has been amazing. (:
I’ve gone from writing both prose and poetry to just poetry. As much as I adore prose writing, it causes me too much physical pain to sit and write long prose these days, so poetry on my phone has become an important facet of my art.
Thanx, everyone (:
There will be much more to come.
The genius of the paradox, unresolved,
Abhorred by history and now reality,
Paradigm kept and also severed,
A lingering dichotomy, incurable for
Malady and malaise too terrible
For words, wholly ineffable.
We strive, strife the language of now,
A slow rise abated by drowning, back
Into those turgid waters, lightless
As tombs swallowing suns, depthless,
The struggle a trial, more so a fall,
So we strive, always wanting more.
Distance and time, space, dimensions
Lacking significance just this once
When we want them to mean more
This time a great deal compared to before,
The wonder still there but fading, like fire…
Dimensionless, the universe turns wide
Yet the fulcrum is selfish, a pain
To bear and to live with, coninciding
Parasite leeching from it’s host, sustenance
Running down, out, nearly through…
21st April 17 16 23
Therapy was good yet difficult. We dive deeper and it is similar to having a series of massages. With further sessions you are able to go deeper into the muscle tissue and they start to really loosen up. It feels much the same as with therapy, and I described it in the first instance like reopening old Scars, and it is like that but the more sessions I have the more it accelerates. It’s a gradual progress and parts of it were locked up for a great length of time.
I can almost kind of feel the scars being made again, but of course I wasn’t self harming then so… um… I can feel the build up because I started cutting after school in college, so is like it was like a reaction after all that had happened in those five years. Soon we’ll arrive at one of the points where I examine when I first started making the scars.
I will be feeling them reopen, perhaps, as more memories are brought forth from the dank murk.
Such is the mercurial nature of pain.
We hold so tight,
Convinced in solipsism
That we are the only ones
Real, alive, centre of this
World, epicentre of every
Explosion, and the evidence
Is never believable.
What a difference a night’s rest makes.
So warm, so cozy, we drift from anxiety,
Cross the void, ka wandering in states
Never to be found in waking life.
Yet what of the air pressure, eh?
That has not changed, despondent,
Alertness down, awareness sludgy
Like trying to swim through a lake
Of souls, who got their night of rest,
Complex routes and synergistic tracery,
Enzyme efficacy and bioavailability,
The blood pumps, flows, reactions
Carried from R.O.A. to B.B.B.;
Wonder at the human mechanism.
Secrets of the singularly strange organism
Hide themselves well, even when known,
Quantities, factors, points elusive, changeable,
Critical mass and invisible explosion,
The bloodstream has reached it’s peak.
Apologies that this poem is so technical. I draw my inspiration from a lot of different spheres and I have long been obsessed with how the body processes chemicals.
Here is a little glossary:
P.P.C. – peak plasma concentration
B.B.B – blood brain barrier
R.O.A. – route of administration