unloading

decoding (imploding)

[undying-unfucking]

I opened my pallet for the first time in years

Found her fur embedded in my watercolor cakes

Choking

I used to walk around and see the world painted

Something inside me I needed to see on paper

Keeping myself busy so that when it finds me, I am already going, commiting myself to documenting

Choking

Leaving a trace behind wasn't always a thought in my mind

Wandering deeper into the maze, I stayed, and my body walked away

I don't know how I am anymore

But I want to paint

Commit myself to documenting again

Years spent destroying evidence

I don't think there's much left

And no one has the patience to get in my head

So it stays there, ecosystems in place

But they no longer keep things safe

It's become a hostile environment

Greener pastures, louder laughter

I painted the most when we talked the most

Choking

When I think back, I can't remember if I ever knew how to be open

Intimacy ignites the fear

I will tell you about the moth I found, the process of laminating pastry until flaky, the insanity between the 2 primary color wheels and colors that don't have a wave to match, teach how to do anything I know how, give you my knowledge

Enthusiastic and precise

I can show you a world of things, but I don't know how to share me

[undying-unfucking]

I keep building the bridge

And setting the scenery, but too much of a coward to move my feet

I keep meaning to write it all in a letter, detailing too heavily handed how much one night changed my mind

How it's something that pulls in, but how it's a choice to stay

To be hungry, but to let yourself be fed

And satiated, fully satisfied

To eat your fill because there's plenty

But I couldn't be a bother and I convince myself that's all I am

One look at the river together, and I see that life where it's a part of a backyard we share, every day on my commute to and from work

I'd tell you how much I am never here and how good I am at hiding that and how horrifying it was that you could tell

That you could know me well

So I've kept a distance I never wanted

Do no damage

[undying-unfucking]

Head full of sand

I am with company but I am far from them

In the pits of it once more

Halfway through the venue I ventured to, not wanting to be alone, I choke

Get me out of here, I am not suitable for company with anybody, not suitable for myself either

Sitting with someone who knows pain but not mine

Sitting beside one that knows the human experience, hell even some of mine, but not me

I thought it would help not to sit alone

(but surrounded by ghosts is not really alone)

I thought it would help to go through the motions, not to take time off it all

But let me tell you, I don't think it really does

I think there's some things that you can't help

They just happen

[undying-unfucking]

Slowly revealing oneself and through so many layers recognizing it and saying it out right will have you seem crazy

I am not what you are making me

It's not a big deal, nothing is a big deal

Simmer down now, calm your tits bitch

We don't wanna beef now do we?

Act cute and talk smoothly

Dare to say something you mean

It won't be anything

What's there to say?

How does one even engage?

Keep your head down,

You're supposed to keep it fun

Why do you have to ruin it for everyone?

A long list of bad thoughts you'd never share

A long list of friends that never cared

There are so many ways to know someone

So many ways to become a stranger

Placate and distract the mind

Hold down your grief

Choke, it's fine

It's better when you're quiet

[undying-unfucking]

I used to be so kind

I haven't been myself for a long time

Systems carrying out the baseline functions

It doesn't take mindfulness to take deep breaths

Hell is not a place you go to but one that takes root in you

And hell is in my head

Bargining and pleading, but I swear I am not begging

How do I handle it if this is the ending?

Unsettled and listless

Rise to the occasion, then vanish into ephemera

I did not want to know myself, keeping an eye out from the peripherals

Not strong enough to look head on

Rotting away, a perfume in the breeze

Freight dirt wafting off my sweater

Dirt hiding in my nail beds

Picking at my face, hitting my head

Heaven was a place with you,

And I knew it well

I carry it with me, in pieces, but I can't hold you anymore

Staring at the night sky as often as I did as a child

Habits we forget and fall into again, a different person now, but the moon looks back at me the same

True, but never tried

Tried, but never true

I run through the options, but I don't consider you

Don't consider myself to be good company

I used to be so kind, and I still am

But most of the time, I don't like my mind

Can't stand still, can't wait to put my heart on a plate

Can't bring my feet to move towards what's coming

Rooted but not grounded

Friendly but not personal

Kind but not vulnerable

[undying-unfucking]

I know it's good to know. Knowledge is a curse that cannot be undone without incurring damage. Time does not heal all things. Not all things can be healed. What ease and mercy time may grant some, time will bestow relentless atrophy and fester upon others. The difference eludes the phrases people reach for when they seek to give comfort. Flaccid autopilot words to quell what they cannot resolve, they do not themselves have the power to change, to run from the discomfort they experience in knowing that they won't help any. It'll get better! Keep your head up no matter what! The temptation to shut out what you don't want to be real, throttles into a superficial exterior. We tend to close our eyes to the viscera, it cannot be unseen, and it needs to be looked at head on. If you don't know, if you refuse to face it, it doesn't mean it didn't happen. It will hurt much more than it will provide reassurance. We are ill equipped to accept. It's good to know.

[undying-unfucking]

If I could, I would tell you everything, but I have convinced myself it wouldn't make any difference, wouldn't come across even if I tried. I've convinced myself so well, now I can't open my mouth. I break my own heart so as to rob the gratification of doing so from others.

[undying-unfucking]

It's not visible at first, taking its time to take root. You can't see but you can feel that something has changed... is changing. Time presses onward on every time you take notice of it, it's different again. The progress isn't visible at first, but the air feels more still in the quiet than it used to. It's not that you can't sit with the quiet, the stillness, but it's the increasingly more consuming awareness of a change in energy. It starts to show to the blind eye and so do the changes in behavior, mood, sleep, appetite, and you know they will continue to change until there's nothing left. This is something you knew, before it started to show, before there was a shift, and yet knowing this so unavoidably brings you to a state that leaves the impression you have never had to hear bad news before.

[undying-unfucking]

accumulating too many drafts - no intentions to edit so here goes a lil post dump to set em free

[undying-unfucking]

Do you think peace can be passed on, like the rest of our belongings, when we're gone?

Is it transferable do you think? Can I budget mine and give the extra to you? Can I keep serenity inside a leather pouch?

Will you laugh if I struggle to get it back out?

Can I stow away belly laughter into the folds of a letter? 

How do I fill your chest with what you fill mine?

Can I be bound to scattered pieces that hold the feelings I want to make others feel?

If I give it my all, would you be interested in what's left?

After all the ends are woven in,

the piece washed and dried,

the shapes blocked into place,

the final touches so gently handled,

Do you think you'll rest easy enough?

[undying-unfucking]

Some iteration of this

Again

I'm looking better

I'm feeling worse

I want to be seen

I don't want to be looked at

[undying-unfucking]

It's a wild ride and ya can't get off it. Hair too long don't know how to deal with it, nails like claws, being the me I'm scared to be, it always is inevitable anyway. Wasted energy on fighting it, trying to frighten it away and it grows back before you've finished hacking it off. Mistakes made in a time loop you never finish getting thru before it restarts and you never realize you're stuck in it. Didn't dip a toe in, you dove, off the deep end hoping to never be seen again. Tried not to leave a mark on the world that surrounds and engulfs you.

The traces of what happened and where you went, where you've been left etched into your brain and your heart. Like a fool you thought this inconsequential. There's no weight to bare if only your hands are full. But the world doesn't simply surround you.

You are a waking walking aspect of it, to which you pay no mind and no reverence. This aspect you'd find to be a symptom, of intolerance of existence if it weren't for you being the one doing it. Fool's errands. A jester thinking to have no place in the court. In any other form you may see it. Save for the form you bring to it. Formulate into fruition. Paid severance to your consciousness and sense of self, bid a bittersweet goodbye unbeknownst to the eye of any other, think This Does Not Matter. How can you continue this way? So many ways to forfeit the right to live.

Living was only the goal in the fever dream of a child long gone. It's true life is short, but living it is long. Put together pin prick at a time of moments gone by, each stitch a day lived and the tapestry made can be lush and colorful. Often cut too short to show the full pattern or image, your visage is burned upon the things you interact with. You're only ever foolish for thinking it to be a stain, it enriches, helps others to be more vivid. The moments matter, you exist only in them. How many others have you shunned for being shown the colors they've become because of knowing you? Have you let yourself be known?

Pouring pieces of yourself into scraps to throw away, it's always been safer that way. Trustworthy people could know you but you don't fit in, can't trust yourself for reasons you don't care to find out. A room full of people sharing stories, laughing, dancing, and you, sitting alone writing notes to someone you refuse to face, refuse to be. How long can you do this for?

After years you're exhausted and you've been at it for decades. People ask for you. The wildcard they knew. Life like wind and joy bursting from the flutter of your wings and the chaos you would bring, turning anywhere into a stage, a dance floor, imploring the world to spring into life with you. I wonder if they mourn a loss without you. Say you're content to be on the other side of yourself. Act like it's a lack of ego, a total ego death made permanent. It's entirely egotistical, holding yourself hostage finding beauty in all around you and denying that you're a part of the scenery you inhabit.

It's not classy, it's just boring. You try too hard. You don't try enough. You haven't done anything and yet you've done too much. You used to be someone I trust. You tried to drown all the melancholy. You just killed your love. You're too serious. You joke too much. You loved me and never told me.

I'll love you til it kills me. I'll love you til I'm dead. I'll still love you when you kill me. I'll never be me again.

[undying-unfucking]

bolts of lightening

shards in my bones

ache in my chest

every chance to

see the storm

no downpour

walk home alone

[undying-unfucking]

If you're reading this call me, tell me about your day, fill my head with things I can't think to say, tell me this isn't okay, tell me this isn't okay, tell me this isn't okay

[undying-unfucking]

When someone you care for and spend your life with tries to die on you it really makes everything feel pointless. 3 months straight of being told every day that nothing matters and there's nothing I can do to help has really taken a toll and I don't think I'll ever come back from this.

I've somehow always been too much and not enough and I don't know how to get it right. I keep thinking maybe if I just try harder or differently things will change, and they do. They get worse.

[undying-unfucking]

The places I've lived in, my head slowly melting together, the streets with familiar quirks marking my path home and back, the quiet spots I'd walk and ride my bike to and sit alone except a book or journal for company, the libraries of different cities, each step of the stairs on my way there, ecosystems that don't make sense together tethered to me growing wild, fractured pieces of the subtropic trees I climbed as a child (I would recognize them anywhere) in the middle of the north woods winter where I almost lost my heat permanently, walking barefoot on grass and concrete in a flood feeling the same things as when I would wade through the sea knee deep in the dunes a half mile away from where my abuelita's house was brought down by a hurricane, the nature preserve by my mother's house glowing diamond dusted deadly frozen still during the winter that came colder than Siberia, the nosebleed I never escape as the elevation spikes on a mountain I never wanted to climb, the air suffocating and far too dry, the massive wind blowing past my cheeks coming off the Mississippi, the river where I fell in love again after losing my trust completely, the swinging wooden bench by my apartments across from a church where I soothe myself in the odd hours swinging and cursing god, the places I lived in I have died in, I'm still there, I still haunt them

[undying-unfucking]

I've been thinking about some old things

Versions of myself I left up on the shelf

And then forgot

But oh well

Manic in upstaging myself

And

Talking with a filter like an editor from hell

But oh well

Who am I to know myself

Her hair grows long and I never realize in time

Silhouette inconsistent like light glistens

Dancing with moving water

In the echos of her singing in the shower

I remember laughter

Oh they stay still sometimes

All too keen to hide

But oh well

Struck by the familiar condition of consistent

Light behind their eyes

I fight not to recognize

All the years I spent alive

Isn't it just breathtaking

How the wilderness survives

And I promised her I would thrive

Yet now

What am I?

A walking half truth, half lie

I never make it in time

But oh well

Who am I to show up for myself

Her nails get overgrown and I should've known

So she claws me in my sleep

Whispers to me

You could never be

Strong enough to bury me