love's death: a sonnet

eternal eyes,

goddess hair,

longing stare,

sorrow belies.

wistful guise.

failing care.

resigned despair,

mortal lies.

arcane lips,

lost face.

blood drips,

love's trace.

life's eclipse,

finally chaste.

death do us part

cast thine shadows away,
in dutiful sorrow I mourn.
night of darkness pray,
fateful morrow be born.

sordid jealousy shimmer,
simmering hate burn marrow.
predator eyes, hunt aglimmer,
my scorn'd countenance sallow.

despondent, satisfy hunger.
enraged, i find contentment.
tearful blood flows in anger,
dawn alighting lamentment.

this deathly horror i've lived,
shorn all hope to redeem.
once with your love bestowed,
now death, certain and keen.

sound words

word without sound,
my happiness fills.
sound without words,
silence that kills.

askance mood, depart.
release this sorrow.
depart, mood askance.
exile by morrow.

blessing my tears.
purpureus blood, bleed.
tears, my blessing.
spirit be freed.

anguished serenity

and if i said, would you believe me?

so, why should I say? just believe me.

in pain i lay, calling your name.

in pain i laid. you called my name.

was it mordant anguish? uncaring prying?

for anguished i was, trying and crying.

it's about life, and the push to death...

it's about reverence to the clawing of high priestess energy, as she demands tribute for her life-imbuing presence.

it's about acceptance of the loving chokehold of sorceress pain, search for respite from her merciless abandon.

it's about total devotion to reverend sister exhaustion, complete submission to the lashings of her breathless whip.

it's about humility, begging at the feet of reverend mother hunger, as she teasingly toys with my famished consciousness.

it's about discipline, enduring enchantress delirium's gentle wrath as she withdraws my fix of H, O, Na, K with a series of strokes to the delete key of life.

it's about my search for the elusive light that guides and inflames, frustrates, and dismays…for she toys with me, knows i will never reach her--i am no Buddha, Bodhisattva, or otherwise…i am not worthy despite the hopeless righteousness of my quest.

take me away

"trance me, light with no name," say i;
don't know you, yet seek you must i."

tranquil ending, live to reach you;
expiate woes, surrender to you.

travesty end, raw truth binds us;
allegory of hope, numbs us.

tragic my fate, certain am i.
timeless contentment, desire i.

trap me, gently worn blanket, you;
help me endure to adore you.

experimental #0001

these thoughts impure,
i must endure.
escape from me.
depart.

your love impart,
for being apart,
torture for me.
pain.

my sorrow contain,
try in vain.
inflict upon me,
abuse.

your fire use,
forgive me muse.
desire tear me.
sufrir.

no quiero vivir.
me quiero morir.
¿quieres a mí,
dejar?

¿me quieres matar?
me quiero vengar.
deshazte de mí.
vivir.

sólo quiero vivir,
but staying here,
life in me,
loose.

my love refuse,
death pallor induce.
blood in me,
constrain.

say it again
truth don’t restrain.
tenderly, hold me.
heart.

your words hurt,
requiem, tragic art.
life for me,
unsure.

i live in the place you live

i hide it, well enough, i think. others have told me that i am “cranky” lately. i tell them this is not the case (i honestly do not feel hypomanic…). internalized, it all builds up however, and these words become the pressure-release valve that prevents my boiler-brain from bursting.

the boiler though, subjected to constant cycling, is starting to deteriorate, metal-fatigue, stress-crack. i am afraid it is time to decide whether to:

a. overhaul this major assembly, closely following the (hopefully) non-destructive inspection procedures, and installing additional pressure-release valves to comply with emergency safety directives.

b. continue to operate the boiler to terminal failure.

i have spoken of death before

afraid of the future, i march, stalwart, to face this fear. i think of the futility of existence, but remain curious about the trials ahead.

Others keep me wanting to know how the novel ends. events capture my fancy: what lies around the corner? imagination feeds conjectures about where the road ends.

must not jump to the last chapter, should not peek around the corner, not take the shortcut to the end of the road. how much i will regret, so greatly i will yearn, fathom the shortcut being the wrong one.

how far - how fast - how soon

MDOC invited me during our last session to return sooner rather than later: invite me!

i was the one doing the inviting up to this time! or was i? i giggled when she said this. sagaciously, she asked, “and, how does that make you feel?”? i said "i find it amusing, simply.” later, i overheard her instructions to the receptionist: being booked, she actually created an appointment time just for me. how does that make me feel?

it is good, i hear, read. everyone says: physical fitness is good.

what should i learn? to turn my eyes away from my park? my trail? i push. deprivation, self control, stoicism. it is good. is it enough? can i push myself beyond the pain? can i outrun the pain? when will it not be? when will i push to see how far i can push...driving? drinking...? i push at what i enjoy pushing. when will i push at what i do not?

i think of death, not suicide. fine line? i think so.

i close the garage door, and i think how long can i run the car before the CO overwhelms me? i think of the sensory reaction to death, the smell as you die, maybe metallic like dried blood, the sound of your last breath, amplified like a train entering a tunnel.

i listen to music. my reaction? outside the norm.

the solution? what is the solution? never to listen to music? learn to recognize when music drops me over the abyss of lows, flings me into the pit of the mixed, or shoots me into an ionospheric high? is this reasonable? is this life?

snap

i disavow.
relinquish now.

outside disturbance,
mental perturbance.

joy, fear...
...end near?

live life?
end strife?

Pasaje

She had a good walk-in meeting with the man that replaced her in her previous endeavours. They talked like the old "more-than-co-workers" they were. It is always so hard to say a co-worker is your friend, or a friend is a friend because a spouse is friends with the spouse, or any other hybrid situation. What is the real-life definition of "friend" anyway?

Putting aside this ADD-induced dissertation, the subject bounced back and forth the changes that had occurred since she last left her position. It seemed ironic that, with this latest change in the winds, she would end up in the same position he had been--their roles would be switched.

So how was this relevant? In the context of time passage, these changes acquired a weight she would have not given them otherwise. Strange how the passage of seconds, she relents, many seconds, changed her perspective, biological and otherwise. Strange how one morning she would wake up in the brightest of dispositions, and face the day the greatest desire, and mere seconds (relatively) later darkness would rise.

Second passage, heart beat, breath taken, blink, all taking her closer to her death.