endless supplements. empty coffee. unopened boxes, dreams in purgatory. a notebook purchased in excitement sits in the neglect of “soon”. a half attempt at healing in an anorexic kitchen. at least everything’s organic. pain plagues my body. he said the medical intervention has a chance of causing arterial damage, resulting in death by stroke. paragraphs of text in the inbox 87 unread messages no reserve of energy to answer. guitars go unplayed vocal chords go unsung the mind and body waste away time waits for no one. the English language has no words for the hornets nest or the labyrinth of landmines i have inside. people approach wearing the mask of good intentions. soon enough, they assume the role of your God wanting an explanation for every time you failed to meet their ego’s need for validation. in a body twisted and inflamed in a mind that locks me out depletion across the board and diagnoses too numerous to count, there is perhaps, a few hours each day at most, where i can wear the mask of normal and have energy to do basic things. what no one sees is the crash what no one sees is anaphylaxis what no one sees is writhing in pain, insomnia, confusion, blurred vision, swelling, the inability to think or speak or remember anything. bandwidth is non existent the poisoning was extensive i am questioned on my alcohol consumption when the bloodwork comes back for my liver. i've been sober 16 years. there shouldn’t be any reason for this, except for the mycotoxins i unknowingly breathed in for years a species known to be a carcinogen to the liver. this makes detox especially hard to tolerate. the organ responsible is overwhelmed, oversaturated. As am I friend, as am I. in my bones, I know, that no one owes me anything. i could be on the verge of dying and still don't ask for help. yet I am spied, with wrathful, envious eyes, the rare times i choose to share with the world where i am smiling. para-social relationships are a cancer. We, who have not found our inner altar, who have not mastered our inner nature, become parasites. we cross boundaries we lie to ourselves thinking the shot we just took at a person already drowning was nobility. the most pervasive character defect is the urge to hide a bad motive behind a good one. I don't know why God does what God does. Sometimes I wonder if an entity more sinister is in charge. I am not sure I have much fight left in me and perhaps that’ll be the best thing to ever happen to me. our blind spots and weaknesses hide behind our greatest strengths. i dont want to answer your questions. i dont want to give you my soul. i dont want to feed you energy. i have none to give to myself. i am not your ticket out of the grave you dug for yourself. its funny, we all need people, but, to some people, i want to scream: get the fuck away from me.
author’s note
it’s a poem about chronic illness and weird people.
please do not take it personally, it’s not about you.
here’s something more upbeat:
an extended preview of the upcoming song DOPAMINE.
You can pre-save it here, or check out 30 seconds of it below.
this is not the music video, just some DIY footage from my phone.
xo
Intensely accurate.
Insanely accurate