The Insanity Monologues

The place my pretentious and sophomoric writing comes to fester and die, far far far away from the light of day. My name is Mandi but you can call me whatever your blessed little heart desires. So talk to me! Prompts? Questions? Boredom? Need an ear? Send me a message with whatever strikes your fancy ;)

[meaxepistulas-blog]

i have never considered myself especially fragile

but i’ve noticed that as the years pass and i get older,

i seem to have lost that part of me made of steel

flake by flake it seems to have rusted away

till now i shake when tempers raise

and my hands betray my fear

flinching back from movements too quick,

or an unhappy face

even the parts of me they labelled dysfunctional

have all adapted to this way you rule our house;

my troubles with social cues

mutating into being able to read a face at a hundred yards in seconds

so i can know exactly what sort of mood I’ve walked through the door into.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

When you show me a problem, smack my hands as I reach for the pen, and tell me "not for you" "not this time" "nothing you can do" I feel like you've cuffed me. Like I am drowning in a tank of water that not even Houdini would dip his toes in. I feel stuck and helpless, and like the little girl I promised I'd never be again. When I see something broken, when it's handed to me, with little arrows pointing to each crack and tear, but not able to make a single move to heal or help... The words for that feeling are so vast and so very very small. Just like I feel. So very very small. But taking up more room than deserved, if I cannot even fix what is broken, then what is the point of me?

[meaxepistulas-blog]

late night diner-talk

I hunger for approval.

I thirst, parched for someone to hold me while I sleep.

I bake half-hearted dreams, always opening the oven too soon, ruining the souffle that may have been served with a too-generous scoop of reality.

But I am rarely hungry for food anymore.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

speechless

I'm having trouble with my words again words used to flow out of me like an un-ending never ceasing babbling "wow could some one shut that up" brook

But I'm having trouble with my words again.

What used to be easy & comforting like a somewhat unpleasantly greasy buffet of all the things you've always hated to admit you loved have somehow stemmed, paired down to the sparse, perfunctory salad course of a particularly fancy dinner.

Falsely bright interjections peppered over a plate of bland, apathetic attitude quickly glossed over moved around half--heartedly with the usual "how are you?" fork, then abandoned when the soup of my mother's last dilemma appears rushed out by the overly eager chef when they noticed the fresh spring greens had started to sprout again.

Words used to come so easily.

Now they gush, overly dramatic, tinged purple even though everyone else says "it must just be the lighting!"

They pulse out,  staunched by clenched teeth & aching wrists & the next riveting season of whatever I'm able to find on Netflix

Words seem to be a wound now; a cut that bleeds fresh when i prod at it with a bandage of life that stinks with infection, the sickly sweet of depression.

I think sometimes, I am most afraid that when the fog of grey & blue & weariness lifts there will be nothing left for my pen nor my mouth to say.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

Jealousy borne of loneliness always tastes the most bitter.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

And just like that    

                                        Relapsed.

But with it came an eerie sort of clarity.

I'm not sure that it was the sort I wanted.

It was the kind that whispered                                                               y o u ' l l   n e v e r   b e   r i d   o f   m e.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

Hey Jealousy

at some point very late in the night I think to myself

one single solid thread of thought unfair and bitter and booze-y among the tangled shredded mangled and matted weave of words

what was it about her that made you want to try that I hadn't tried to be

[meaxepistulas-blog]

[meaxepistulas-blog]

Sometimes I miss you and I I miss all the tears I cried I miss happiness and that green dress and all the things we did last spring It makes it hard to breathe

I cannot think of you because when I do I think of sad times and the tears I cried I think of better days and lemonades I think of all the days and nights we slept away If only we knew how close the storm brewed could we have saved

ourselves?

--12 june 2013 @6a

[meaxepistulas-blog]

You are every colour in the spectrum of seeable light to me. You are the light that lights the night and the burning heat of day. You move the sky for me. You are the song I hear in the wind and you're the beauty I see in children laughing and nothing about you could ever change so much that I would not still love you just like you once loved me.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

[meaxepistulas-blog]

like strips, like strips                      they pull away to find the dull and rusted underlay where they thought the gold must be I show them only ragged strips of me

like blood, like blood                      it rushes pure and goes and goes and goes some more past the point of no return to find the find that fateful shore

Cant you find the piece of me? The lost and ravaged chunks of flesh?                                      No, I don't think you would                                            even if you ever could.

I buried them with all the rest, deep inside my filthy soul piled around my heart of coal. Fed and fed and fed some more I cant ever seem to stop eating                              everything,                              and then I turn for more. 

But now it's there                    inside me now. I can feel it rotting now.        Too much, I'll burst,                       I'll drown if I don't--

Whoops, too late, there goes everything I hate

[meaxepistulas-blog]

From your seat, your view of the stage is unimpeded; you can see the way the lights play down her skin, how the poles shine so enticingly, their slick smoothness glimmering as to invite her in. You can see as her hips slide and her back bends and her hair cascades, falling and turning sinuously as she moves. You can see as her cheeks flush beneath her eyes fluttering closed and her lips, bitten to red, open with the exhalation of her breath. From your seat you can see her fingers grip tight, her knees tuck in, her stomach roll as her hips rock. The light is soft and highlights her curves, glows through her skin and shines through her hair. You can see all her beauty, her soft touches and languid movements, from where you sit.

From the heights of her heels, she can only see the floor beneath her, littered with glitter and sometimes change. She can see the shape of your body backed against the chairs and booths that have held so many others. The light is almost blinding in her eyes, so she shuts them and breathes away the nerves and music, grasping that shining metal with the trust of her life as she pulls herself forward  up , against, down. Breathing through the movements, counting in her head, thinking of the sweat between her fingers sliding her dangerously low. If she looks down, she can only see the softness and the glitter and the lace, every flaw highlighted by the lights of her choosing, panting now with the exertions of her sins.

The dimness of her eyes, the silence of her heart, the emptiness of her apartment, or the ghosts of her past, culminating in the undulating dance of her days, months, years... There is no optimal angle to view those. The lights are off now, she is walking away, the music has lowered and the subtitles are gone, but you are still seated, waiting for the magic you anticipated, while she is still behind the curtains, dreading the walk back home that follows her final performance.

[meaxepistulas-blog]

I envy you and your world of Black and White while I lay lost in the colors of my mind shrouded in shades of grey and green and gold never far from the blankness I wish I could behold Always lost behind the curtain the magenta sea unfolds beneath the chartreuse sky I see pale blue people, all controlled. 

[meaxepistulas-blog]

Simply Cannot

Unfathomably angry because of things I cant do things I cant say things I can't be cant cant cant nothing I can--because I cant

Taking, taking, taking cant, cant, cant, Cant you see Nothing there but the anger and yet you want more from me

I have nothing else its not a dowry to be given a booty to be leveraged a prize to won There is nothing there for you to see Yet you keep looking, looking, looking But all I have is empty.

I have nothing left to give you So stop giving all you have to me. 

[meaxepistulas-blog]

The Waiting Room

I never really thought it was this easy to just completely loose that piece

that little piece of will that says live and beats and pulses and dances through you some days tired and sluggish and some days so feverish you think you might burst

I always assumed it was a progression a downward spiral a slow moving escalator descending slowly to the depths of depression dwelling first in the dim of irritation then the twilight of apathy before finally dipping down into the dark, unforgiving absence of light that is... sorrow

But it seems instead that I just simply took a wrong turn somewhere, one door short, or a hallway overshot on my way to the lobby of my dreams and aspirations ending up here in the waiting room beside my memories and maladies where my old toothbrushes had come to die and my favorite socks with the holes in the toes where awaiting mending 

Except I don't wear socks, so those'll never be darned and everyone knows there's no use for old toothbrushes or for girls who can't feel.

I always thought it'd be sadder, softer, sharper, that slow, sinking, slide into the deep of my sorrow.

I never expected to turn the knob and find that the room was in fact empty

Nothingness with a side of aching, clawing absence.  

[meaxepistulas-blog]

Sooooooooooo, in case anyone was interested or cares, this is my fictionpress, which should be updated just as often as this... and has all the same content as this...but I dunno, I just thought I'd share in case anyone is actually insane enough to want to get email notifications of when I post updates.