Category: About Confusion

“Utter silence…
A world without you.
Something so natural.
Something so simple…
Yet here,
where my heart once was,
something burns;
an ache long forgotten.
Here I stand,
lost and alone,
a world fragmented,
a forgotten land.
The source of your heart
and mine.”

i’d like to smile
and tell you
i’m fine.
i’d like to say
that what i feel
is simple.

in a way,
it is.
what i feel is something removed,
torn from me.
see here, and feel for me:
press your hands to blackened lungs,
draw your fingers
along the cracked and burnt arches
of my ribcage.
discover the chips in my spine
from the forceful blast.
touch your lips to the ashen husk
that still flutters,
weak and terrified,
a splatter of red and azure.
see the wreckage of my collision with life
and feel with me.

what i feel
is simple.

… it is the acceptance,
the understanding,
that is so complex for me.
i am too young to handle these thoughts;
i have matured, but i still cling
to what i should have been.

i can’t count for you
how many times
i’ve awoken with these fears.

there are difficulties to schizophrenia.
love is a cure.

i don’t have it here.

my first night in this desert land
was a foreboding one.
i awoke some hours after midnight,
though the watch read six.
not yet have i turned back time
to adjust myself to this new “home”.
pain. that was what i felt, then.
a burnt searing in the back of my head,
and the horror-
to awaken from your nightmares
and believe you are drenched in blood!
and what is worse-
what is worse than this
is when your voice is lost,
as though some wintry spirit of the night
stole it away.
and instead you’re left to cry.
alone, battered. modernized technology?
none of it for you.
the batteries are dead
and the communication is desiccated.

there was nothing and i was alone.

i said nothing.

what right do i have to speak?
to tell another that my fears chased me here
and warn me now
of something that isn’t real but will come?

yet that is not what feeling i was to speak of.

it’s a simple thing-
at the heart of it, at least.

my thoughts complicate it,
branching out,
drawing forth recent moments.
like a hound starved for days and released,
i seek out my terror within an exhausted frenzy.


scrabbling in the darkness for a light that wasn’t there
and now that i have it,
my fears are chased to dark corners and crevasses,
slipping outside. a smile, broken bones creaking against the window,
those eyes. those eyes.
you do not know fear until you meet something
that is born entirely of yourself and manifests
with a busted grin and bright eyes,
watching your every move, criticizing you.
when your anxiety gives itself a body
and takes on a personality of its own,
whispering, gray claws scratching as i speak,
as i write,
against the window outside,
trying to reach within.

you do not know fear.

… what i feel is simple.
it’s simple in the fact that it isn’t there.
if it is, i don’t know it.
i want to.
don’t ask.
i want to feel.
what i feel is simple.
it’s on the brink of my conscious-
i understand it’s there,
but i can’t reach it
without the fear
that it’ll take that last step
and fall into the unknown.

what i feel is simple.


“my shadow’s
shedding skin.
i’ve been picking
scabs again.
i’m down
digging through
my old muscles,
looking for a clue.”

you’ve invented the impossible,
draining our lives
for the sake of this gorgeous science.
like a thief in the night,
you’ve taken away all i believed in
but what you don’t know is
that i can play that game, too.

beneath the callouses and bark,
i’ve enhanced myself to live in this new world;
it’s here within this steel carapace
that i’ve learned to live and grow.

so here i am, wordless in my lack of dreams,
alone and willing to fight —
for faith or for disbelief —
regardless of this coffin lying in wait
with open arms and a mind of its own,
waiting for the slip-up
that’ll bring me to its spindly embrace.

“you’re lying to yourself again,
suicidal imbecile.
think about it:
you put it on a faultline.

what’ll it take to get through to you, precious?”

. runaway .

and here I am,
on my knees
for nobody
my self.

can't believe
how far
have strayed.

can't blame
but my self.

My fears
like imps
across my brain.
A blaze
of guilt
down my spine.

want nothing
than to be broken.

See here.

Would you
tear my soul
if I
pressed it
into your hands?

(leave me to my self here)


Shatter me
against the sky
and let me
pick up the pieces.

make me
from city to city,
and communing
and collecting
who I am
your watchful gaze.

(dear god,
i am going

been waiting
for my own
then you
pull me back
the surface
and smile.



and we are
to the start,
broken wing
grass-stained palms.

even then
i was many
and one,
hearing out
the complaints
of monsters
my sister's crib.

born in summer snow,
(here i am)
raised in
a desert
of hope,
(here i am)
(take me)
and blood.
(here i am)

i am
i am,
(i am here)
i am,
(here i am)
(am i here...?)
i am.

and end.

Like A Stone

I want to be scenery.
I want to be

Just there.
But nowhere.

Never move… Like a stone. Steadfast. One place. One time. One self. Nothing else. Nothing else…

I am free. Free from shadow things, that is.


But I digress…

This man is the reason why.
Reason why I cannot die?

This man learned how. Learned, broke it, them. No longer have a hold over me?
… Maybe.

I write this. I write this andIcry. I write this andIbleed. Bleeding.

See here… Itdances. Dances on the tile floor… Twisting, turning, swirling, twirling. Whisper, whisper, whisper…


From cuts. Scars. Old wounds. New wounds. Illusion? Pah. I cannot keep the illusions intact. The blood is there. The wounds are there. The cuts are there.




They are there. They are there. They are there… Have I lost it? Gone mad? Gone insane?

Just hurting… The flesh from my shoulders, torn asunder. The flesh from my arms, torn asunder. “Leave the runes intact.” The flesh from my back, ripped asunder. The flesh from my throat, ripped asunder. The flesh from my legs, torn asunder. The flesh from my heart, ripped asunder.



“Love plucks you from the sky and breaks your wings. Then? Then it throws you back to the cold, hard earth, and says ‘Crawl’… You crawl… Forever, you crawl, on your belly, whimpering, hissing, slithering and skulking like a wounded serpent, no arms, no legs, no wings to fly…”


And I’m so tired of all of this:
running my jaw at thin air,
shrieking curses to an empty earth
with the full expectation
that someone will listen,
that some part of this dark carnival ride
will break through Understanding’s gates
and past the barriers I’ll be–
whisked away in the arms
of a genocidal clown (ha-ha!)
shrieking, pleasure and pain, fear and joy,
deciding between the cleaver and the guillotine,
to be drowned or drawn,
burned at the stake
or buried in the core of your world.

My emotional stature has blown to dust.
My heart has been wrenched from my chest by a loved one,
and though I show him that it hurts me,
he doesn’t care.
I’ve retreated into my imagination,
desperately seeking some form of solace.
I feel as though I’ve aged another millenia,
and now I’m searching for the innocence of my younger years,
something unfamiliar but comforting.
I just want an eternal peace to wash over me as the ocean’s waves;
I want it to pull me under,
jostle me about,
drag me away.
I don’t want to continue like this
if I’m only a husk of my former self,
and according to the rest,
that’s all I’ve become as of late…



I don’t mean to be difficult,
this is just who I am.
I try and try again,
but I can’t make you understand.
This confusion is endless,
the asininity is too much.
It’s a game of tug’o’war
but when push comes to shove
I refuse to conform
and you can’t accept such
a blasphemous act,
a farce,
a disgrace,
so you scramble to reprimand me,
but I beg you, save some face.
After all, you only have one.