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[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

De-traumtize: flashbacks - By Adrian MC 4/30/23 (Sun) 19:01 & 10/26/23

Some memories can prevail beyond even the strongest will to forget and day dreams can haunt the mind.

A gray-matter incantation evoked by the unintentional whispers of a hidden self.

A silent movement of the spiritual tongue and mouth that summons my terror by name and invites it to inhabit the psychic space between my eyes and the world before me.

So subliminal that I forget I'm hosting the disturbance and all of the unwelcome fragments of memory that are the cause of my mental discord.

Accordingly, my aura-musculature contorts and contracts as though responding to the tug of a barely visible -but undeniably present- puppeteers string. Second nature renames me "slave" as it commands for passive acceptance.

Did I know I could choose an alternative to the crisp portrait of Hell that commandeers my muses? Incarcerated by the ghost of a gaoler that I once thought was a gentleman in the cerebral cell that he’s convinced me has always been home?

Maybe I'm the specter who haunts these thoughts, so mesmerized by the life within them that envy has petrified my transition to the afterlife.

Post traumatic pro dramatic dead-man walking, dead soul talking.

Have those whispers been echoing all along? The reverberating chants that checked in just before I checked out, I just barely notice brushing past my astral-ear-drums when my repose collides with a breathless air of urgency.

Magnetic memory reverses it’s polarity, pushing my spirit away. Hurdle me back to my shame-filled architecture. Slam me back into my morpheein euphoria body dysmorphia.

God give me anybody but any body in “my” body to return to as I'm hurdled back into it, restore my blighted control panel rendered illegible by that illiterate-inconsiderate and his distant, barely-existent forced-familiarity (jamais vu-volé petite mort).

The philosopher's finger trap of a prison I was only just beginning to understand is now moot for the digression from there to here-in-a-heartbeat. I'm allotted no time even for cognitive whip-lash. I am Machine; my [dis]- function is automatic and engaged. The agency of choice entangled within the clockwork of my body's beating heart. My actions are adrenal; a carnal [de]-cadence.

Word from the author: At first, I was afraid, I was petrified. But now, I’m free and you will be too. Whoever “he” is -if he’s abusive- he’s nobody. Don’t let any ‘nobody’ convince you he’s somebody worth suffering for. You’re enough. God sees you and he loves you.

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

These are just some of the homeless in Colorado that my family and I work with.

My mother and father privately volunteer themselves to be of service to these people, providing them with hygiene products, clothing and kindness.

God sees them and He loves them.

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

"Simplicity leads to the fullest of living" -Jolly Rancher packaging my father read in his youth (not verbatim).

There seems to be an abundance of cause for celebration in life. Here's how I've been celebrating mine and when I'm with those I love, we tend to be sharing too much to remember to take pictures, but i'll try to post some soon.

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

To my ex-bf who was with me through one of my hardest traumas (dealing with my other ex) I'm sorry for the fear response I had that blackened your eye.

[suspectpress]

Our first issue!

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

A friend of mine is doing an internship for out front magazine and told me about this really awesome publishing house called suspect press. For your chance to publish one of your amazing poems in the Denver metropolitan area, check out their website. Your voice is worth sharing, your art is a valued contribution to this and any community of artists. ❤️‍🔥🎭🧑🏻‍🍳😎

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

I can do litte more than marvel at the path behind and say

There must be a God, and I once knew this less than I do today.

My miracle could be another family's loss.

Anytime the devil aims and misses, I know to give my thanks to the man on the cross

And the heavens that His Angels fly.

Thank you Lord that my parents were safe and able to drive by.

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

Meet the artist †††

I'm mc.adrien.desk/authoroflittlemorethanthis/Adrian MC

I identify with the arts and have an artistic and philosophic temperament that is intertwined with science and human nature. My beliefs include those of every man and woman I've ever met and even those I may never meet. My tribe is humanity (the club i belong to is Club Human.

I live in Colorado and I have a deep love for my family & friends. Strangers are friends i've yet been aquatinted to, my enemy is hatred (in all of it's forms).

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

Author Adrian MC

De-traumatize: on the matter of self doubt:

Just as quietly as my decline came upon me, the slow and unbeknownst decadence of my sanctum. Then that a demonic fate arrived with a weakness which turned my armory into ashes.

A blindness that befell a borrowed sight, lent if only to see the dirt of disillusion invade that very gifted vision.

Self surely I fought and fell and only proved myself wrong by the very same certainty that drove me to strike without aim.

Still I struck with cause, my enemy before me, still my rage was mused by a counterpart king. Royalty bleeding from the wound left by the bastard who bested me.

I've lost the battle between the contrast I observe, and my obsession over my assessment.

Something gradual will work within us to undo the internal knots; the tension that our struggle has turned into stone.

Something enduring that reverses the petrifying effect of fear and becomes the trademark resiliency our son's and daughters refer to as their lineage.

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

Author: Adrian MC

Began on: 3/12/23 (Sun) Last modified: 3/14/23 (Tue) 14:34

Foreword:

Necessity and need are constants, but desire can be fickle and wavering. Like my habitual self destruction (when i use illicit substances), I must also build a habit for self preservation so that when my desire to live is waning, I may yet live.

After a sorrowful time of wanting to end my life, my desire to die wavers,so I simply continue on spending the life-time thats left on my life-clock. By forming -and maintaining- healthy habits, I'll begin adding seconds and hopefully minutes to that same clock.

Introspection:

Amidst the constant channels of emotion and thought is a hidden stillness that becomes a discipline when I'm seeking resolution to what perturbs me. It's a practice that gives way to a skillset I've yet acquired and yet to be convinced it even exists within me. The aching spiritual body's arms have been outstretched, palms upward and begging to receive something I may already have or possibly something I'll only ever observe in those around me.

It's an ask. One i'm not sure will come to fruition.

So sometimes I want, but I'm not sure what for and if the demon of desire will ever be assuaged, but I know I will forever need.

Necessity has nobility for how purely it exists. There's no question that can disable it, no argument that can topple its reason or challenge its sturdy structure. Because need isn't built, it's born from the cosmic womb, the shapeless laws that govern everything. Need must be and so it is.

Which of these two wolves gets fed today? Both? How much and for how long before the hungrier of the two devours their counterpart? Live life or spend life?

Then, comes the question of how? In which way is life lived or spent best? Am I hitting the mark or not? Does it involve fulfilment or a never-ending adventure?

I'm certain the same atoms that structure my being were at the same big-bang yours were, and if the difference between consciousness is in atomic structure then why does any of this challenge me so. I should be the author of every second I'm alive and yet, I’ve convinced myself to be under the oppressive rule of anyone other than the person most likely to be responsible for my oppression: myself. Tomorrow it'll be the individual sitting across from or possibly the one beside me. Whoever I allow agency over an existence I've been claiming is my own, have they truly more of a clue than I do? They must.

[authoroflittlemorethanthis]

Author: Adrian MC

Life in summation, I can say has been the intangible sensation

Of unleashing an ocean into the seemingly finite spaces of my heart.

The never subtle deprivation of a notion that I've been dreaming replaces law with art.

The nearest I draw when I surmise the source is nowhere near at all.

Inch by inch the rooms appearing to fill, but what's filling never touches a single wall.

The ruby interior of my endless bossom bore the forever feeling for ever feeling this and nothing more.  

Assuming to be tomorrow, while assuming tomorrow to be.

An abundance of time before or after then there never was free.

Persistent appearance of sparingly few tics and even fewer tocs,

when seconds seem sparse and minutes aren't even on the clock.

To be or not, a single man ne'er asked, this question i simply cant pose.

Non-existence is a state of NOT being that the very defnition of existence is contrary in this every prose.

Therefore, I am.

-Adrian m.c