Internal Dialogue

“Inside it felt like the hardest thing in the world. To just let go, and not pick everything to death. To just let go and enjoy what you had. To just let go and not make everybody around you miserable with your own internal dialogue. To just let go and be happy. So simple. So difficult. So terrifying.” – Laurell K. Hamilton

 

annacastrolima
annacastrolima

 

The blind call the shots, when what’s heard isn’t seen
When I deal with me, it’s never what it seems
Though sight’s not given, still I judge the call
Crazy as it seems, when I can’t see at all

Medicating the pain, shown by blood not red
hoping to numb a shitty feeling, living in my head
Hoping desperately to find, a happy trail this way
Depression makes it hard, to get out of bed today

The movies are seen, and replayed with renewed vigor
Forever playing with, and pulling the hair trigger
Conversations bad when, the mirror won’t talk back
Only one side of me, carries on the attack

I want to sing and not cry, to take me through this time
The song I settle on, isn’t a lullaby
The mirror shuns the man and tears blur the day
The end of life it seems, points to a better way

The Criminal In Me –

“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.”  – Nelson Mandela
Demon_Inside_ME_by_LorelainW.jpg

Resisting impulses to do and to numb.
Trying my best just to overcome
The Criminal in Me
I’m not hard by glance, at first sight,

But only I know the plight
Of the Criminal in Me
A forlorn soul, tied to earth by pain,
Inside he seeks to make life pay,
The Criminal in Me
How many times I asked to be free
All in vain, no one can see
The Criminal in Me
Addictions to things both seen and not seen
Leaving all behind to find those things
The Criminal in Me
I look for peace but yet I must be
Not controlled but living by
The Criminal in Me.

Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinionsofeye.com

 

12182010

Arachnia – Many ways, many hands, many deaths

“There are spiders whose bite can cause the place bitten to rot and to die, sometimes more than a year after it was bitten. As to why spiders do this, the answer is simple. It’s because spiders think this is funny, and they don’t want you ever to forget them.”
  – Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys 

 

Brushing lightly against you, a breeze carrying your seeds


Alighting on me, travail of my soul just to begin

Fire burns the course of nature through my primal veins

Caught now by the spider silk of your trouble

I feel the pull of your bite sinking my soul into rapture

Your many hands finding their way, using my body

Your many eyes seeing everywhere I hide

My escape now wound in your lair, wander lust begins

In circles you lead me, my mind numb with senses raging

One escape grabs my fainting sight, away from you I fly

Also published in Broowaha 
01192012

Misty Is Her Way – Part One

“She would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on.” 

wallpagers

I felt light traces of her fingertips, leaving a trail of pleasure long after they found other parts of my landscape to wander. My breathing slows, mind numbs, and a creeping satisfaction, like morning mist rolling down the hillside, fills every low place of my mind. The lows of sadness, footprints of giants pocketing my memory, cupped every delicate drop of her. These lined with the nature and nurture of excruciating experience, crushed me like shells on the shore, the pounding driving me into smaller and smaller pieces. Ah, but the mist of her touch, brought healing in the haze. The troubles disappeared as I soaked up the attentions and affections of her spirit, bringing me to life with her touch; watching as it swallowed my world in dancing swirls of natures skirt, a skirt of billowing softness, gently unveiling all her nakedness. Me, I am ravaged and barren, a scorched desert, but full of life, a life that stung, bit, and poisoned all potential for happiness. It is amazing how close to pleasure, pain is. It is possible to confuse the two, in fact, I counted on that to escape the dreary confines that echoed with the chains of my captivity.