Tuesday, November 30, 2010


When logic and rationale are out of reach all I have left to run to are fantasy and make-believe.
I want to believe. 
I want to believe that its okay to deceive myself 
so I can be myself
free myself from critical eyes that burn
and dressed up lies that churn
bile into chaos I simply cannot digest
I confess.
I am drowning in unrelenting waves of my own demise
Suffocating in inhibiting layers of disguise.
Unable to look into the glass and not despise
the shattered woman on the other side
where cries go unheard and dreams seem absurd.
Remind me once more for what reason was I lured
into this fabricated world of illusions.
I whisper one wish for a single moment of stillness; 
one renewing breath of hope to ward off the unrest. 
Just enough space to feel my chest violently expand and then slowly release into a brand new will. 
And almost enough blood rushing to my limbs to fill
A void unknown to those who share my space. 
Fleeting seconds tick to the beat of my corroded heart, 
laced with anger, resentment and shame.
Yet despite my silent pleas, the war inside my head plays out its fate just the same. 
The vicious battle between madness and sanity, 
creating deafening funnels of fear sadly mistaken for vanity.
And no matter the outcome, the devastation is already done. 
The damage is too wide spread. 
The lieutenant’s dead. 
Too many casualties to count. 
So I just close my eyes and cry myself to sleep instead.
Relationships tainted.
Disappointment painted on the faces of lovers and friends. 
Friends tired and worn to the breaking point. 
The point of no return. 
Don’t they see there is no return?
I have no choice but to continue to tread through taxed terrain. 
Pity-poisoned smiles, 
and though lips refrain from speaking guile,  there is no doubt. 
We can never go back. 
Am I the only one who doesn't feel exasperated by the constant skipping of the track? 
Self soothing with comforting pain. 
Unaware of the strain. 
Call it delusion, hallucination or self deception. 
Who in their "right mind" wants to believe they’re watching the show 
through a lens of deception?
There’s no way to smooth out warped perception? 
There’s no exception 
to the rule that states
every mind, body and soul has the right to an escape. 
This is all I know to keep me insane enough to feel sane.
Its all the same.
Same stories
Same dreams
Same rhymes.
Retold to the same lifeless beat each and ever time.
I’m afraid its all I’ve got right now.
And with nothing more than desperate need to feed this withering spirit, I’ll say it again and again. 
Foolishly anticipating a different end.
Naively waiting for just one true friend
to mend,
to tend to these wounds of war with compassionate ears and loving lips.
To brush away one tear with non judging fingertips.
To defend my truth.
A truth that, no matter how extreme the strain, will never bend
Its the one thing that remains 
in this playground of childish games 
and pretend. 
It does transcend this adolescent ache
Keeping constant when visions vacillate 
between certainty and doubt
Don’t you see? 
I’ve been waiting all this time for someone else to come along and set me free. 
After a while, when you’re in the woods you can no longer see the trees. 
So I wait. 
For someone else to make my choice. 
For someone else to breathe live into my silenced voice. 
Thoughts race out of control, yielding unripened fruit. 
Leaving battered souls and dangerous holes
Spinning in circles as the shaken die rolls 
and falls
and lands on one side.
Revealing fate.
My lifeboat begins to deflate. 
And only in these moments of madness are my thoughts really mine.
No longer yours to define.
I lie
Curled tight in a ball 
waiting for a miracle to break my fall. 
Paralyzed by fear. 
Praying daybreak is near. 
Screaming silently 
frantically trying to steer myself out of this storm
Its clear 
that I may never find my way home. 
Finally realizing I need to learn to be alone; 
That the kind of healing I seek to find will only come from peace of mind
from within. 
in solitude. 

So please forgive me if I come across as rude. 
I don't mean to shut you out but, for the first time, you are not what this is about. 
I take my leave into seclusion.  
There within lies no confusion. 

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Standing in the Sun

connecting the dots of days gone past 
scattered memories stand in line
distorted shadows linger behind
behind me is where I hide
in a tiny room
in a tiny box
with a pen and sheet
scratching out words that lied
lies telling tales of dangerous dreams
I dream of the day I will awake
from clouds of hate
into rays of now
I am standing in the sun
terrified to move
taunted by whispers of soft curls and playful giggles
fragile bubbles blown through a smooth pink wand
I am standing in the sun
somewhere between safe and soiled 
visions coiled in dark knots
I shout 
no sound comes out
my soul pleads
my unhealed wounds tear
through the invisible spaces
the loops
the holes
a way out
I am standing in the sun
to let unfamiliar warmth penetrate my shell
to tell
of secrets holding me my by the throat
I navigate my aging hands through magical specs
specs of hope that dance cautiously in the light 
in their freedom I delight
for a single moment I wipe
my tears
I draw draw near 
to the young girl who appears
in the darkness of the night
I am standing in the sun
I open my eyes 
hold out my hand
to catch the falling flakes of snow that shatter my assumptions
I close my hand and clench
my fist with all my will
each snowflake melts away in me
from me
run clear 
through my intense grip
Take hold! I demand
Take hold!
I am standing in the sun
no longer looking for a place to run
freeing my mind from a magnificent obsession
alone in me
I am beginning 
to see
the light

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Corridor

each week I walk the corridor
in my disguise
sharp flashes of terror
frustrated cries
of the unheard
unheard and 
once bright minds 
and sound hearts
now deaf
and blind
damn deceptive choice! 
how could a self-destructive mind know
that to come up for air
is to lose its voice?
lured into fabricated despair
spinning webs of delusion 
a broken spirit in need of repair
on the dotted
line separating body
and mind
a word or two or three
etched into their very beings
random scientific classification
labelled for mere identification 
empty, numb, vessels
doped up on medication 
she’s “sick”, they say
to eliminate all expectation 
I walked the corridor
in my disguise
confidence carefully applied
painted on
like the blackened lashes
shadowing my eyes
eyes following the echo
 of my heels that strike
striking resemblance
between me 
and the woman on the inside
don’t dare look back 
head high
pace brisk
a single wrong move 
could reveal the falseness
shrouded in my imaginary suit and tie
the show must go on 
to prove I’m alive

surge ahead 
fixated on the sign
dictating to me 
a disease that does define
who I am 
who I will never be
I make the choice 
to set my voice free
I can’t be here
a voice inside denies
I walk by
she smiles 
a sympathetic smile
barely raising her eyes 
from the stacked pile
the stacked pile of random diagnoses
a haphazard list of convenient prognoses

without names 
without goals
without hope
waiting in rows 
to get refills for their dope
have their souls undressed
have their minds possessed
come back next week 
to be reassessed
I sit next to a man 
he stares down at this feet
too lost in deception to meet
my eyes 
as they search for his soul
its too late
just a dark 
he took their bait
he swallowed their hook 
now stuck deep in his throat
each attempt to set himself free 
lodges it deeper
in me
in you
in every man 
and every woman 
that chooses not to speak 
from behind glass
she calls out
with the name
my mother gave me
the moment I was free
I died

Jen  ...  ni  ...  fer

each syllable
of my name
tears away at my flesh
with a deafening ring
Don’t know me this way!
Don’t you dare call out to me!
I refuse to give in!
I will set myself free!
from your labels
from your drugs
from your stale sympathy

you have no clue who I am 
and who 
I walked the corridor 
without my disguise
the shame
and fear 
hung next to the lies
in the closet of my past 
my past is 
and always will be 
a real part of me
I won’t run
I won’t hide
I will allow myself to heal
to feel
the pain
that stains 
an innocence
lost in vain
to let go
 of the blame
to remember the darkness
but not let it win
or weaken my will
me is a flame
passed on
from those I let in
a flame of passion 
and hope
of love 
and trust
a renewed Trust in the One
the One
with Whose love I am blessed
as I walk out 
of the corridor
I give thanks 
for the darkness 
that has set me free
for a deadly struggle
that forced me to see
Truth as True
my life as a lie
shake the Etchesketch 
learn once again how to fly