Bodies

In the mountains of your body are the forests I explore.

In my sleep and in my dreams, it’s your curves that I adore.

In your mind lay all the dreams, I’d like to see, and taste, and feel.

As for the nightmares we will fight, so they may never become real.

All of My Running

I want to cry for no good reason.

To cry from all my standing still.

It took all my running just to get here, and all my running I have to do still.

There is no motion only the same place. Yet time somehow moves of its own will.

I try my best just to catch it.

How can you live when you’ve lost all of the skill?

Everyone’s Heart Breaks

I gave you all, I gave you everything,

and I’m not sure what’s left. If anything.

There wasn’t much I left for me,

just a few pieces so I could see,

who it is that I was when I looked in the mirror.

I recognized her I just didn’t want to be her.

Now when I see her, I think we’re a little more alike,

but I didn’t know how much was left of her, how much I had left in me to fight. Now I see how much she’s’ worth fighting for.

Without fighting for her, I won’t ever really be me.

Trauma

I wonder at which point healing is done. When is it over? When does the pain stop?

I’ve spent my whole life convincing myself not to be a victim. Never to allow myself to blame my present actions on my past. I wouldn’t be that person, I refused absolutely.

And so when horrible things would happen…. I thought I dealt with them head on. I thought I faced them. I pondered on them, I wrote about them, I racked my brain, went to therapy, talked to others and I overcame.

Then years later something new popped up. Something else. An aspect I had ignored, I thought we’d gone through this already? Isn’t it over yet?

I still wouldn’t hide from it. I would face it again, I have still more to learn. I have still more to get through, I’m still getting it wrong. Where else can I change and grow? What can I do better?

Over and over it came and it went, constant and endless, the same and yet different.

And now I’m tired. Exhausted in fact. And I don’t quite know how to make the pain stop… or if it’s even meant to. Is this just how life is meant to feel? Should it hurt this much? Is it really so painful for everyone else too?

I have to imagine to some extent it is. That it’s why drugs are so pervasive, addiction, all forms of distraction and detraction. In the silence of isolation all of that goes away. And all you can feel is just pain. Piles of salt on a raw exposed wound, to be washed off with vinegar and re-salted daily.

Or is it that life has just gone? All the things that once made it worthwhile. The smiles of others, their smell and their sound. Nature in all of it’s wonder. The daily chaos of the outside, that reminded you that your own isn’t so bad after all, we’re all running the same exercise together. On different levels, in different ways. In isolation those reminders, those distractions are gone. All you can really see is the mess that is you. There is no comfort in the chaos of the masses.

And then you punish yourself further by imagining you’re being too dramatic. There goes that damned emo-depression again. Haven’t we gone over this already haven’t we gone past this? You know how to pull yourself out of it, why is it so hard this time around?

The end of one vicious cycle just seems like the beginning of another, and I can’t quite find that place of peace. And I can’t quite figure out how to end it.