Briars –

“If you don’t feel the pointed things in life, you’ll soon take the soft ones for granted.”
― John Everson, Cage of Bones & Other Deadly Obsessions

gitsandshiggles1

Pushing through these thorny opinions and games which

like spinning through the clouds that have lost their

curved softness and have gained a razors edge with every

boiling motion of agitation.

Haunted by my mind and it’s incessant gathering of

these long stemmed painful abrasions seeping with

the sweet sap of noxious compliments all meant to

disarm and take advantage.

Lasting harm is at a strong disadvantage given

the scars and foreknowledge of a paranoid state

for what is plainly seen is scarcely real or continuous

except in my unseen world.

 

First Published in Opinionsofeye.com

 

Red trails – (Poem of the cutter)

“In case you didn’t know, dead people don’t bleed. If you can bleed-see it, feel it-then you know you’re alive. It’s irrefutable, undeniable proof. Sometimes I just need a little reminder.” – Amy Efaw, After 

  

“A razor drawn, through the colors of my life

Red trails follow, enough to spite

Angles deep and narrow channel

Direct the flow, excite the annals

Now I’m left with the tint of life

Spreading quickly toward a light

I yield again to the cutting’s peace

Nothing left not even speech.” – DMW

“People always want to know what it feels like, so I’ll tell you: there’s a sting when you first slice, and then your heart speeds up when you see the blood, because you know you’ve done something you shouldn’t have, and yet you’ve gotten away with it. Then you sort of go into a trance, because it’s truly dazzling—that bright red line, like a highway route on a map that you want to follow to see where it leads. And—God—the sweet release, that’s the best way I can describe it, kind of like a balloon that’s tied to a little kid’s hand, which somehow breaks free and floats into the sky. You just know that balloon is thinking, Ha, I don’t belong to you after all; and at the same time, Do they have any idea how beautiful the view is from up here? And then the balloon remembers, after the fact, that it has a wicked fear of heights.
When reality kicks in, you grab some toilet paper or a paper towel (better than a washcloth, because the stains don’t ever come out 100 percent) and you press hard against the cut. You can feel your embarrassment; it’s a backbeat underneath your pulse. Whatever relief there was a minute ago congeals, like cold gravy, into a fist in the pit of your stomach. You literally make yourself sick, because you promised yourself last time would be the last time, and once again, you’ve let yourself down. So you hide the evidence of your weakness under layers of clothes long enough to cover the cuts, even if it’s summertime and no one is wearing jeans or long sleeves. You throw the bloody tissues into the toilet and watch the water go pink before you flush them into oblivion, and you wish it were really that easy.” – Jodi Picoult, Handle With Care

Also published in Broowaha
01042012 

Cleft Derision

“…independent and brave, and sure of himself and of the importance of his work, because if he isn’t he will never survive the scorching blasts of derision that will probably greet his first efforts.”

– Robert E. Sherwood

“derision preemption – a life-style tactic; the refusal to go out on any sort of emotional limb so as to avoid mockery from peers.”- 

Sorrow is better than laughter, she whispered

Sharpening the knife of her concupiscence

Drawing a razor’s edge across the wrist of commitment

Tears define your purpose and cleanse your soul, she mumbled

Hacking at the cords of her errant desire

Carving the yearning arms of safety and family

Cries hone the instincts and rebuke complacency, she sang

Slicing through passion with words of dark rejection

Cutting with lust and splittinghearts asunder in cleft derision

05222012

Secret Understanding

“I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don’t dare to let out.” ― Ally Carter, Don’t Judge a Girl by Her Cover

“Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.” ― André Malraux 

 

I see you hiding, thinking there is no one like you. Embarrassed by your fantasies and feeling guilty about your thoughts. No one that understands, no one that imagines what you imagine. Your mind takes trips, far, far away, demanding escalation and execution of your deviant fantasies. Listen to the tale of two dogs, one evil and one good, both fighting for survival inside of you. Which dog wins? The one you feed. The one you take care of.

Worrying about being found out, you hide those habits carefully. How many times have you come close to being discovered by those close to you? Scared out of your mind, thinking that they know, and then, the relief you found when they meant something else. Now that I have your attention, stop it! Stop it before it’s too late.

Don’t follow that impulse, that desire. It’s not that easy is it? The desire turns like snakes in your stomach, impulses to follow despised cravings that will rob your freedom and your life. The best defense is to not be there. Don’t put yourself anywhere near that hot spot. Stop calling her (him), stop hanging around them (it). Change your environment. Close that closet and never walk back.

But It’s not possible for you to stop is it? Then please, please, do not harm anyone…your fighting it, you want it. It’s easy to follow your urge, your lust. Please don’t do it. Put away that thing your holding. Your hate. Your rage. Your gun. Your shame. Your razor. Put them away. I’ve done it, you can to. There is a way out.

Also published in: Broowaha