They Tell Me I Told Them So.

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They Tell Me I Told Them So.

I was a child.
Once.

I thought things I thought should never be
I misunderstand the organic nature of my personal depravity

The world is rippling in front of me
When I close my eyes I see the waves
The world is tearing apart

I sway when seated and drift when stand
My mind is anchored but just in sand
I am not news-worthy

I am losing myself here too
A heart of darkness opened to civilization
I am the monarch of a lonely lost tribe.
I am the only one
And even among my own, I am a distance

I try to weep
But it is a dry heave
I cannot name the emotion that builds behind my eyes
But I do not have the tears to push it out.

Pain is a knife in my back.
Stuck.

Forced to be nice
Forced to feel concern

I look at simple objects and feel miles away.
I stand on rims and my mind slips over edges

Backward to dream, drift out of location
Forward to embrace oblivion

I used to think that all it would take is the Perfect

But now I am torn
Depression says they won’t exist
Insanity says it will not matter

In a sea, twisted purple with a setting sun
Burning white sand washed away by daily tides
The crash against rocks offering a salty air to breathe deep
Burning lungs
Rotting pier posts
Miles of blue that steal your heart and never give it back
I am drowning
In a sea, of so many fish, I am wreckage
Built upon
Incorporated into backgrounds
Lacking classification

Oh sailor
Why’d you do it?

Build me with burning joints
Beg to be torn apart
A mind desperate to be in another man’s head
Everyone who wears those stupid wretched masks
Surface waves that masquerade their frigid blackwater thoughts

Roots digging to the center of the earth
Searching for the truth
While their leaves reach for sunlight
Proudly proclaiming all they are.
Withered twisted trunks
Gnarled branches of green, green flesh that hiss in the fire
That pop in the night
All the whispers behind my back because god-forbid anyone be seen for what they are

Depression-fueled ghosts walking in a mockery world
Stretching hands to neighbors
Plaster smiles
All the while keeping sheds of rusty tools
Secrets
Buried beneath dead pet boxes in suburban backyards

Pack animals
Herds
Gnawing at perfect plastic grass.

I am the only one who sees my conspiracy
The world is blind
Cold
Barren
I am the only one who knows

I don’t know why I stay
Subversive medication
Glitz and glamour distracting my ambition for a final conclusion
Damn Pandora and her box of Hope

Bearing, bearing,
All I’ve brought upon me
Missing the final piece of this tainted collection
The affirmation that I am right
The knowledge that I am so far gone it can’t be true
I seek the final words of a never-ending thought

I want someone to know the poetry of my position
To understand the latitude of my incomprehension
The longitude of all I’ve been
Hallucinated as I am
The biography of solitude
The fortress of self-created mythology
Branded in my mind as doctrine
Ordained in the church

Cement has filled the holes of my heart
And that is what makes me sink

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