Heatslur

We'd better slow down,
you said,
eyes flickering,
a slurred drawl.
We don't want to slip into a coma.
I laughed
too loud
If you can't take the heat,
I said.
My head heavy,
my chest a fire
almost destroyed
by the heat.
Just one more thing to work on.
Just one move closer and it'll happen.
Just one hand across your chest.
If you can't stand the heat,
I say,
too weak to move
as I crisp.

Subtext

You are
(interesting enough that I
wish to ape your style)
enough.

You are
(sticking around to witness
the sound of my breathing)
alive.

We are
(a fucking nightmare
can't you see I'm falling)
content.

We are
(barely linked
though I'd die for you)
in love.

This is
(so difficult now
it doesn't move right)
my life.

This is
(a penance
a long-forgotten crime)
my choice.

Where is
(sweet salvation
running over skin)
your mind?

Where is
(not a prayer
not a heartbeat)
my voice?

Wanderlust

I'm feeling it for the first time in years.
Is this really what's intended for me? Stay in a city till the good turns to bad, and then set sights on another impossible utopia.
I'm not well, I know I'm not well, but I think I'm worth more than wearing out my welcome for a lifetime.
It stings, but it isn't changeable.
I guess I have a quicksilver soul.
Either that or I'm unworthy of stability.
Everything changes, or ceases to change, and I will not rely on false surety. I can stand up and say 'I do not know. I may not be right.'
Time is so very short.
Too short for fear and yet I am drunk with it.
Time is so very short, and I can feel it stirring.

Nothing Personal

It's nothing personal,
just business.
It's cruel,
but business is booming.

Man in bed,
Coughs up his lungs.
Man in his head
is strong enough
but the heat shimmers
starch shirts
and thousand-fold hurts
are both right here and yet to come.

It's nothing personal.
Just politics.
It may be rude,
but gainsay and be left out in the cold.

It's nothing personal.
Just hatred.
It's nothing personal.
Just jealousy.
It's nothing personal!
I just don't understand.

It's only a preference.

Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaants.

Alright, so I'm just going to type for a while. For those of you who read my blog and know me in real life, it might be a good idea to go away, because I'm just going to be typing for my own reference and catharsis  and it may not be an accurate reflection of how I'm feeling, and I certainly don't want to talk about this post. I just...want to write things. That's all. Often it's all I have to satisfy myself and get things out of my head, and right now I'm going to use that because I don't have much else going for me.

So, I'm stressed. I'm tense and I'm stressed and I'm falling apart and I'm not enjoying things at all, and it's probably nobody's fault but my own, but here we are. In no particular order, here are some things that are causing me grief. My ex has a new boyfriend, which shouldn't bother me, because it's been a year since we broke up and six months since he moved out. I realized the other day that it had been a whole year since we broke up, and much longer since I started to hate him, and yet the knowledge that he's moved on, found somebody else and is probably ekking out a modicum of happiness in his new digs with his new partner fills me with inarticulate sorrow and anger, because here I am living in the room I lived in with him, sleeping on the same patch of floor, smoking sadly on the same fucking balcony and living the same lonely, angry life that I lived when we broke up. It's irrational. But it still stings, and jealousy is a hell of a thing to admit to feeling, especially from somebody who goes on and on about how good his poly practice is, blah blah blah. I just can't get over the hate and I don't like hanging onto hate. I just feel as though it was impossible for me to get a satisfactory resolution out of that situation and I haven't. I need to find a way to move on from that kind of thing, and I've been trying to date again, but there's nobody that attracts my attention. I love both of my partners but those relationships occupy very, very specialized niches and they aren't everything that I need - which both of my partners respect and understand because they're wonderful, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel as though there's a hollowness in my life that I haven't managed to fill.

So, I guess I've been trying to solve the above problem in my own way by making changes in my life - like asserting myself, yeah, proud independent man goes out into the world and doesn't take shit from anybody, because I've lived that, y'know, I've been abused and taken advantage of and I'm not going to take anymore, damn it! So I dug in my heels with my roleplaying company, and I've cut out bad things from my life, and I've made the choice to move, and I know that in the long term those choices will pay off, because they're the right way for me to live, but in the short term...I just feel ostracized and lonesome and stressed out all the fucking time because when you don't take shit from anybody, nobody will want to be around you because you're confrontational or arrogant or not socially cohesive, and I'm switching wildly between I DON'T NEED YOU TO LIKE ME and WHY DOES NOBODY LIKE ME. And again we deal with the jealousy, because everybody else seems to be off having a lovely time and here you are sitting at home in your den with nothing going for you, which is bullshit, and then there's the self-pity and loathing and all of that wonderful stuff and I just want to scream half the time. And of course my fucking family have abandoned me, which despite me putting a brave face on it...well. I'm very alone, very very alone. The number of people that are privy to what goes on in my head and in my life can be counted on one hand and I've never been in that position before. I don't like it. I like people, I like myself, and I want to be liked, and I'm struggling.

And I want to talk about things like how I'm getting annoyed at the financial strain I'm being put under and how my friend is suicidal and I have no idea what to do about it and how quitting smoking is impossible and how I'm annoyed at my body for CONSTANTLY FALLING APART, like, seriously, to the point where I'm having severe internal problems (and I'm not talking about the coughing) and how my drugs aren't working and I'm terrified of therapy and I'm so afraid of the next few weeks because I have to do all the official adult things and about how my last year of university is going to start and I don't know if I picked the right subjects and how I miss theatre and how none of the things that I had planned are going to be possible because I've been stretched too fucking thin and I'm worried that I'm going to snap and I haven't felt this way since I burned holes in my fucking flesh...but my hand is starting to cramp and I'm going to have to stop and have a smoke that will fill me with guilt and then attempt to lie down and take my drug and try to fucking sleep.

I started writing this shit because I thought it would make me feel better, and maybe I could type out some solutions, but I'm just being crushed under the weight of these paragraphs.

I don't know. I'll come back in a few days and there will be hope.

Chestbellow

Skin sloughs away
Every single day.
I'll raise a hand before my eyes
and as I taste tin
I'll do my best to breathe it all in.

A great bellows filling
and out from it spilling
a poisonous cloud
oh, but do not be proud.
We all make metallic sounds every day.

Slow down, take your time.
There is no need to sob or whine.
You've always been a live one,
so your father says.
But he never got the gears out of his head.

Don't shield your ears,
though there is much to fear.
You'll weather the storm
of metal-torn forms
but the bellows of your chest are near.

Quitting Smoking

Okay, so, wow. Quitting smoking is not okay.

(yes, I'm here to rant about a real life thing, oh my!)

So the doctor have given me a puffer for my acute bronchitis and I've been hitting the puffer really hard (once I realized I had to take the cap off, d'oh) and for a while it was really helping but I think my infection is resisting it because the coughing isn't easing up at all now and I'm worried I'll have to call an ambulance or something fucked like that because I've nearly blacked out twice over the past four days. But that's okay, I just know I need to quit the cigarettes. Like, need to. There isn't an option to stay on them, and yet I desperately want to, and here's why.

It isn't a matter of 'oh, wean yourself onto something else!' or 'replace that physchological dependancy!' or 'stiff upper lip, the first week is the worst'. It's gut-wrenchingly. I was playing Binding of Isaac and my hand was shaking so much that I couldn't play properly. If Sav hadn't caved and let me share a smoke with Ruth I honestly think I would have shouted at her, which I hate doing. This addiction has a really, REALLY powerful hold over me and I'm struggling, I really am. I feel completely powerless.

Today I had the equivalent of one cigarette. I had one half-and-half joint during the day, and I had half a cigarette just now with Ruth. The force of will required to resist smoking...nearly ruined me utterly. Tears, shaking, spasming, and on top of all that it hasn't improved my health at all, if anything it's made it worse.

I just want to smoke my way through several grams and pass out and not cough.

I'm gonna get through this.

Quitting smoking is not okay.

The Last Cigarette

Wield your scepter,
of authority.
Of bare-faced ruin.
Raise it high.

it's coming closer, steel yourself

Smile and part your lips,
to recieve.
Sightless eyes stare outwards.
You're gathered.

breathe it in and don't choke, don't waste any

Ride the lightning
as it strikes.
You're reeling within,
but nothing shows.

nothing shows, nothing will ever show,
so shine it bright, make it glow
and nobody will never know 
that on the inside you are dying

Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.

Wield your scepter,
of debauchery.
Of bare-faced triumph.
Breathe it in.

it swirls around your insides and corrodes away your core
you're never going to live through this, but that is what it's for
your eyes are bright as embers, your voice is deep as night,
and you'll never be able to ask for more.

Cast it aside.

Silly Stoned Song

Title says it all.

Tell me a story,
About a girl and a boy.
Tell me a story.
I just want to hear your voice.

Oh, my shiny, pretty thing -
why don't you sing to me?
Tell me a story,
Before you fly from me.

Oh, woah, oh oh yeah.
Oh, woah, no no no.
Oh, ho ho, oh oh yeah.
Wowohoh oh yeah.

Tell me a story.
About a spark and a flame.
Tell me a story,
And you won't be the same.

Oh, my shiny, pretty thing -
We could live in the trees;
So be a little naughty,
Like the birds and the bees.

Oh, woah, oh oh yeah.
Oh, woah, no no no.
Oh, ho ho, oh oh yeah.
Wowohoh oh yeah.