this is a story
of something extraordinary
that happened to me
we start at the entrance of a tunnel
too dark to see, too long to feel
whence we came,
and where do we aim?
is it real,
is it all the same?
the curious reader may ask
"wherefore you travel,"
"what lies at the end of the tunnel?"
for once, that i know the answer to!
for once, i know what i pursue
the journey has a purpose
and i wish to share it with you.
?
it's here again
it's back here again
all the initial optimism
they've gone away (so eager to leave, they are!)
i'm scared again
of the same thing, again
all those years of trying
my efforts in vain
some things just stay the same
who else have i to blame?
or had i not tried at all
would anything've been different at all?
where lies our future? (i wonder.)
where will we be? (i wonder.)
where are the skills that keep us living? (we... i wonder.)
if everything ends tomorrow,
will you still stay close to me?
or will you be overwhelmed
do you even know?
a day passed by
and another one too
have we been here before?
watching everything fade
while we can only pray?
a week passed by
and another--no, not yet
have we been here before?
so many questions,
too little answers!
i don't want to be in the tunnel
i want to know
i want to feel
i want to ask, dear devil,
where must i go
to unseal your deal?
imagine, dear reader,
one last answer
and no more questions!
starvation in abundance
last night i spent all my time chasing a high
and the night before that,
and the one before that too
it's no ordinary drug, you see
ever since i started on this journey
i've been alone, isolated
no place to go, no house to safely call home
and so i reach out to you
my relief, immaterial
"i love you"
and i found that hard to believe
can't you see my sorry state?
can't you see my unavailability?
can't you see that i do this
over and over
and over and over
and over again?
i tell myself
"you don't live in a vacuum"
and you tell me
in your soft voice that i can only imagine
"it's okay to ask for the things you want"
and i found that hard to believe
perhaps i'm actually regressing
perhaps i increasingly find it harder
and harder and harder
to believe in you
in everyone else
even in the words that i say myself
it's not a fair game, you see!
i say, "christ, she's helpless"
truth, gospel, verity (is it?)
you say, "the human experience is complex"
sure, i reply
"you're absolutely right"
but what about the other thing?
and the other and the other and
a million different thoughts and worries and impulses i have thought
to be long gone
lost to the depths of my memories
they all come out
all at once
like fish in a rainy day
if i am indeed complex
it must owe itself to the complexity of my anxiety!
and so i bring them to you, one by one,
you say, "it's okay to ask for things"
"truth", i repeat to myself
since repetition is such a good weapon
you say, "it's okay to be lonely and stressed"
"gospel", i repeat to myself
since repetition is such a good tool
you say, "good things come to people who wait"
"verity", i repeat to myself
since repetition has served me well
and so it goes again
tolerance, the same hit
until words have lost all their meaning
the same words and the same voice and the same actions
diminishes and diminishes
until they have all lost their meaning
and i curl up in a corner, crying out
"will anyone please think of poor me
is anyone there, will anyone care?"
unable to parse that i'm surrounded by love