I think I need to come to peace with my enemies
Not just merely forget
To move on

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@wordsinline
I think I need to come to peace with my enemies
Not just merely forget
To move on
Iām always looking for a new start
A blank slate to start from
To finally get to where I want to be
How I think it should be
Should have been
Before
Supported. Light. With people who care. Easy
Before I had to run from this pain in my chest
Before I was always stuck thinking Iām being punished
On some level or another
For who I am or what Iāve done
How I act when Iām really me
Five steps behind the others
Because I donāt understand people
And I latch on
I do it wrong
Over and over and over. Iām trying to restart
But I always end up with the blank slate I started on
saying and really believing are two very different things
easily mistaken
when we donāt know how it feels.
those mistaken baseless words to myself
were reaching. floating. convincing.
far from grounded within my truth.
I see her as myself
cheery. laughable. chaos.
āannoyingā a fact our mind had supplied.
but I see her through their eyes.
her love. her care. her energy.
her worth. my worth. redefined.
I see myself anew.
a knowledge I donāt have to convince
to another part of me
blooms.
I am worthy
I am good
I know what I deserve.
chasing is now over
itās my turn now
me, myself, and I.
my heart is a chasm that bores into my chest
the deeper i let the knife in the worse the pain when it leaves
but itās the only thing that fits the void
or im too lazy to find something else
im letting this chasm before me grow
deeper and deeper and deeper
i can already feel the echo
of when i finally slip through the cracks
and drop
splat
onto the ground
some of these lines are pretty raw actually.
āBaseball player throwing the ball at the groundā (life arc)
āI see myself in everything I despiseā
āI wish I couldāve shared themā (wrinkles)
*fuck life into submission poem*
āWhen I care to live in the real worldā¦ā
āAnd my thoughts arenāt made of artā
Youth exhaustion poem
Seizers
Itās
Friends who have your
Background
Your
Back
Your
Friends have you
Your heart in
Hand
Friendship through
And through and through
All for one, head forth not back
Ghfhf
Poetry was never my strong suit. I talk in context - things Iāve heard before, recycling the voices of others
Poets have this way of capturing the language for themselves, wrestling the airy quotes and phrases down to pinpoint their actual experience
For them it flows naturally I can only imagine, but it is a good exercise to try
Earlier I tried, and managed to pull out something like
āI feel like a motor, the cord has been pulled and revved. No way to turn it off, just need to wait it out to run out of steamā
Which incidentally is quite accurate to my current situation
The mind screaming with possibility. The body agreeing. The clock saying no
Looking at the blank page there is always a pressure that removes the flow of imagination I had experienced at a prior moment
Before, I had been eager to write about the image of the sparkling blue sea and little green island that my mind had been supplying me
The thoughts of Swiss mountains, the memories of far off places that make me smile when I close my eyes
24 years of colours, thoughts and feelings that Iām surprised all fit into one brain
Kayaking, swimming, skating, running in the dark
That feeling that I had wasted everything being rethunk
The enjoyment of school, friends and lights and fun
The steam a little lost since the age of 16, but picking up in places
Reignition lost in the depths of my to do list
Pushed forward now at 3:00am
Is my trajectory off? Should I shoot away? Am I more scared of losing what I have not yet lost, than ready to discover more to keep?
Or is it just logistics? Numbers, logic and just caution
How much logic till itās overthinking?
How much caution till weāre stifled?
How much fearing regret, protecting peace
Until the risk of every decision is snuffed out
The answer, pretentious reader, you can probably get at
With the revelation and acceptance of what my heart, mind and body are hammering away at me for
The motor is slowing, I am slipping
And sleep is on the horizon
Iām looking forward to death
makes me want it for everyone
shared collective oblivion
not like Terrorism
I donāt jntqcahymorw Iām tired
WHat is most important is a storyline
a tragedy
something people can see themselves in and learn from
we are all the main characters of our own lives
our existence is our own personal tv show
mine is, and itās stupid to say, undoubtedly a tragedy.
thereās no heartwarming ending
itās a cautionary tale
of how not to do it
how not to attempt to escape
how to actually and end up full circle
in a tiny little arc
like a baseball batter throwing the ball at the ground
a failure
thatās my life and thatās how it ends
am i going to put a knife in my gut
like the pull when I see it on the counter
on the right side of my gut
when my heart squeezes and skips and stutters and burns and spasms
push it in so slow and feel and slicing powerful through my side
and my heart squeezes and squeezes
the knife buried to the hilt pushed in by my own hand
where do we go from here
I hate
I hate
I hate
the tightness in my chest
the burn behind my eyes
the fact I see myself in everything that I despise
Buddhism says death of the ego
self is not a thing
so where is all this hate that I carry within
attributed to
how can i move on from an undirected hate
I am a wriggling little worm.
flailing around in the same place
notice me! notice me!
I flick about in my filth
i want to be taken away!
a bird looks down and spots me
cringes, and goes upon its way.
a fisherman comes by with a fishing pole
but even he wonāt do what I say
āplease! put me on the end of a hook! I want out of hereā
a desperate little call from a disgusting little thing
that everyone should just ignore and let flail in its grave
been trapped beneath the ice
my whole entire life
been waiting for someone to snag me on a hook
pull me out of the water
but i think Iāve been too late to bite
Zombie
Iām incomplete
All the places I was meant to go
People I was meant to see
Follow me like phantom limbs
Collecting and collecting
Onto my body
An arm sticking out of my head
A foot buried in my throat
I walk around disbalanced disembodied disconnected
Can people sense it? This growing chasm
A cancer pushing me further and further down. the road
Reaching and collecting and collecting and collecting
More ghosts
Just some thoughts
im a stick figure
hollowed out
fleshed scooped like pink Percy pigs
squeeze my heart like a fish in a bag
the uk is a goldfish in a bag
How can a goldfish suffocate in a bag
Squeezing squeezing squeezing
Flung about to the whim of the giant toddler
The goldfish is stuck in the bag
Dropped to the floor forgotten
Gravel sticks into the plastic but the bag bends and spreads and spreads
Plastic barrier is still there
Stretching ever tighter ever tighter
More and more tension
We try to scream but it gets in our mouth
Seals the screaming mouth
Weāre suffocating through plastic
In a cage of gravel
Percy pigs in a bag
Many Percy pigs
With their gelatine grins and plasticky skins
They turn their subjects insane
Percy pigs all around
Iāll save this when thereās service this time
My Blue Future
eu eu eu
are you
good enough
blue card enough
green card enough
red card. enough
whistles and whistles and whistles
bells and red red tape
dance and dance and dance
to the drone and whine of fate
a fuzzy card
a faded
flimsy
fading card
enough enough enough. im seeing yellow stars
wet at the bottom of the ocean/
wrong chosen colour didnāt keep me afloat
but all ink bleeds through the water/
all colour is far now
all ink bleeds through the water/
in the deep deep deep deep end
settled in my blue future
can this be my remain?