NHS

Disorder

Why  must you change the mundane?
Break the order
in my...
Catastrophic
Pitiful imposter of a brain

I used to laugh in the face of adversity
but
in troubled waters
now hidden is that place
sinking into shadows
Thirstily

Signposts

What is the remedy?  How long can it possibly take to heal the broken segments?  In deluded bliss we drift along with the screen of protection, flaunting the lies for all to see.  Beneath the rays of blinding synthetic sunshine there lies the desolate and bleak honesty that simply cannot be revealed to public eyes.  Not for lack of trying nor shame is the hidden truly that; but for complex reasons of obligatory self doubt and anxiety of outcome. 

When guts reign abundant and no longer may the agony be stifled, the product of outpouring can be one of explosive tendencies.  While internal voices speak of acceptance, receiving canvases reflect blank echoes, reiterating and cementing the knife wounds.  Permission for flaws is seldom given and the one who delivers is the one whose fingers are burnt.

Alternatives to remedies are few and almost certainly involve suffering.  When truly broken, is it naive to cling to the flaccid hope of being fixed?  Might one give thought to staying beyond repair and leaving shards embedded for all to see?  The clock is ticking faster and with each second passes a new thought, a new understanding.... that sometimes things simply cannot mend.

Mirror

So it's like that then
Take the glass and smear it with disgrace
Blind yourself in spite of what's wanted
Merge into the untruth of the lot
While the shards tumble
and you shed the drops
hoping in vain that reason rekindles
stabbed by the blade of the toxic tongue
walk on when your sight is null and void

We Were Broken

Without warning
it overwhelms each second of every day
blindly catapults you into the whirlpool
unapologetically...
justifying existence
and consuming all else

a reason to believe; it casts aside sense
to favour freedom
and the ties that bound once before
release in new found reassurance
not always reciprocated in a way that fits
but embedded in memory
and inside the chest that held it dear

once gained

Never ever may go asunder
but to form an inscription far
far beyond the expiration of the source
Always in mind

Love presents itself quite suddenly
and irrespective of circumstance
where it was true..

there it sits perpetually

The Cavernous Place

By process of selection, the best option may be concluded as one of distinct uncertainty.  What may be the correct decision to prevent further damage? 

Walk tentatively until the natural progression of tiredness leads to a stumble?

Feign nonchalance in order to breeze along seemingly careless?

Self combust?

Scrutinise each morsel until the brink of despair?

fill each lung with enough air to do the brave thing and disregard the lump forming in the back of your throat?


Or shrug.  Shrug and continue, never quite knowing what the outcome may be.  The coping mechanisms that are put into place when dealing with the impossible are far from ideal.  The numbing qualities of alcohol can be embraced on a temporary basis, yet accompanying the mock high is the toxic reality of the headache.  The headache never goes away.  In the moment when you wake and everything is perfect, just for a second, the pain is irrelevant: then without warning the darkness descends and you are catapulted back into purgatory, unsure of identity.

So easy to become fixated on scrutinising the soul.  When things largely reflect mere coincidence it is such an atrocity to allocate blame, particularly where the target of hatred is the self.  Yet there is something so satisfying in having someone to blame and feeling the pang of disappointment when you admit that the fault lies within. 

Turning on a heel and fading into non-existence is such a fantastic fantasy.  Some souls are unable to let go for one reason or another.  Though we may recognise a constant internal conversation of reassurance, objectifying and reasoning, sometimes the demons break through in spite of oneself and we have found ourselves clinging.

In complete opposition to any typical characteristics, at times just holding tight and not letting go is an occurrence difficult to pre-empt.  Within the cocktail of hurt and instability there emerges a brand new entity, an automatic pilot who makes the decisions and runs when the consequences must be faced.  The unintentional erratic tendencies require justification far and beyond any available spoken offerings.  What is important is that the root of the issue and the source of the emotion are identified and accepted as the significant factors in a turbulent moment.  Fight or flight.  The apology is bittersweet and will never be heard; for it is meaningless when offered in peace and not honesty.  The origin of this disturbance is one of love; not malice, hatred or evil.  Out of desperation and nervous energy, the ruthless tongue tumbles into trouble with brazen stupidity.

We are most grateful for your understanding in this matter.

Woe and world

A trigger pulled Blatant disregard for consequence Stones that crumble 'Neath ragged toes Teardrops fall in the eyes of babes The bigoted man, the incredulous stature Golden crumbs to ingest by choice Hands pressing down in war torn silence Blood from eyes perpetual reminders A breast for a life Unconditional clause Sickening noise instigating closed doors Then nobody comes But the hand of dismay Where is the fuel inside this day? The smug reign almighty labels of extortion And children slum bed ridden Feed only on unshed tears Peacefully they slept Only time to truly know Headstones unkempt Bitter sweet among the snow