Captured Mist

Captured Mist

I don’t have a who I am
unless you can capture mist
I’m something different
day to day
I’m someone you know
but have never met
A finger print
depends on which finger
Blood color
depends on where in the body
I pick my words
as I pick who I talk to
I am not finite
I have no definition
No direction
Liquid is more solid
than my name
Who I am is anybody
There is no who I am
I have as many faces
as I do cells
I start and stop
I am just here
Thick, damp, and everywhere
With nowhere to go

This is a season of feeling cold, stagnant, and dormant. So much of what I loved didn’t seed this year. Since I nurture no life on the ground, I exist only as air water. I fuck with visibility, I’m clammy, and my life depends on external requirements like temperature. I am merely atmosphere. The only positive prediction I have is that this winter will be short. I won’t be hibernating, just hunkering down.

IMAGE: Woman, oil on canvas, 1992, Alison Van Pelt

Thank You, Erwin

A day is not a year…

Thank you, Erwin
I needed that
Got through the night
On half a glass
I think it’s my timing
Bringing me down
I thought tomorrow
Would come around
Thanks, again
For looking out for me
And the violence of the seas
Downtown is changing
There’s nowhere left to go
The outskirts are aching
But at least we can catch a show
Work hasn’t been much these days
A glass is all I have to raise
Wiping up spills
Picking off gum
Is what I have left of fun
Thank you, Erwin
For the paper cup
It hides the color of my luck
When I get home
And hydrate my fear
I’ll exhale
A day is not a year
A day is not a year

IMAGE: Adam Schmid, “Danbo And The Long Walk Home” – Phoenix Rising Photography

Sinking Deeper

Sinking Deeper

Sinking deeper into the sea
The cement blocks are
External burdens
The rope wrapped around me
IS me
If I can release myself
From myself,
I can cut away the weights at my feet
And unravel myself free
Burdens are fixed
A limited mind can be tricked
The objective of blocks
Is to anchor me to the aphotic bottom
The rope is my imagined constraint
The rope alone drowns me
The blocks alone drown themselves
One hand loose, and I go up

Changing oneself is the obvious solution. Why do we miss it so easily? Perhaps because the weight of our circumstances is more noticeable, even painful. The ties that bind are uncomfortable, constraining, and annoying, but weight hurts, exhausts, controls the direction.

To cut off life’s problems is also swift. Escaping from personal knots can take a long time. For peace of mind you don’t get to do what’s easy first, then what’s hard.

Talk about keeping us humble.

Exiled

Exiled

I was told to leave
Forced to remove my sleeves
Exiled by all means
She smoked a cigarette
As if it was good sex
I was on the bottom
I was the most less-than
She outed my silences
The most civilized violence
The longevity illusion
Everyone putting up with each other
Until someone can no longer bother
To watch my transgressors
Rot in stagnation
I move, I move
And they look up
They may have been right
They may have been just
I pack my shortcomings
Doing more taking than giving
More draining
And in the way
Was I really useless and a discomfort?
I will have something to say about this one day
Maybe they’ll read about it
I go my own way
As they say
They won yesterday
When everything was better without me

IMAGE: Maximilian Jaenicke

Wake Up

Wake Up

Wake up, wake up
‘Cause I know there’s no giving up
Must make up, wake up
And so I brew one more cup
To wake up, wake up

And I wait for the day
I catch up with time
But for now just breathing
In and out is fine

Until I wake up, wake up
Doesn’t matter what I’m dreaming of
To wake up, I must wake up
When I arrive will it be enough?
To wake up, wake up.

‘Cause I know tomorrow
Answers to no one
What I have to show for myself,
A dream undone 

And I wait for the day
I catch up with time
But for now just breathing
In and out is fine

Someday I’ll wake up
Wake up

This is a song I wrote for a friend’s post on a story site. The main character would drink a lot of coffee to get herself through some difficult days. I wanted to capture the inability to burn off the heavy fog from lack of sleep, coupled with despondence. This song pays me a visit occasionally, this is one of those days.

“Stillness is our most intense mode of action,”  is the first sentence of a great Leonard Bernstein quote. Stillness is practiced from a place of power, but forced from a place of powerlessness. I ask myself, does this stillness feel like a split second of nirvana, or years of drowning? Either way, my revelation is understanding who I am under my circumstances. The painful freedom of the truth.

And then what? Am I ready to take action now, or soon? Who will I be under new circumstances? For now, I wait. 

IMAGE: ?

I’ve Heard Enough

I’ve Heard Enough

I think I’ve heard enough.
I get it, you like it rough.
There really isn’t a conversation,
discussion, or debate, is there?
We’re all about your way.
And your way is my pain.
Like the small animals you maim.

I’m sorry you can’t feel yourself.
I’m not feeling you either.
You’ve limited your imagination
to only what resembles you.
And torturing others is progress.
To see someone else suffer
is cause for applause.

I understand now.
This is your time to weaponize
what makes you uncomfortable.
Your problems are now my problems
to prove you’re a victim.
I’m done fighting fair, or my way.
I’m playing your unsustainable game.
But I guess you’re winning.
My destruction is your living.

I’m finished listening. To call out an asshole for being an asshole is a compliment to an asshole. They’re having the time of their lives.

I’ll survive, self sustain, perhaps even be more neighborly.

Smart or not, educated or not, an asshole is an asshole. I’m recalibrating my position, starting with being done.

IMAGE: ?