Saturday, February 8, 2014

Broken Strings of Fragile Sanity



::[DISCLAIMER]:: 
This is a poetic vent that I typed out as I sat out in the cold this morning trying to regain my bearings after another restless and very stressful night.

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The gentle heart is no more than a whisper. A shattered gem, the broken dream. We sit back and watch as the world unfolds around us, painfully beautiful, insanely fragile and still such inspiration to draw from.


I am hollow by it all.


Having been gutted by a harsh lesson by the fates, the soul that once shivered within the dark catacombs of my being has been ripped out and thrown back out into the jaws of a ravenous void that knows not of forgiveness.

There is no shelter here, poison thick and sticky sweet, I drag the remnants of this shell forward; destination unknown.

Thoughts tickle the backs of my eyes, madness swirling through heated veins as I fight to remember what it was to Feel joy. The moments of warmth taken for granted, the bleeding creature weeping within its cage of flesh and bone. It fears its next beat, knowing that only more weight will bear down, making it ever weaker in its attempt at living.
Such things one cannot merely speak.


A useless task that will fall prey to confusion resulting in a firestorm of anger that cuts through this tired flesh, reminding the spirit of its weakness.


An abhorrence to the self; trembling broken string of sanity waiting for that final snap.

We all dream... I remember what it was like when my body could rest and my mind was given freedom. But now the body aches for that precious escape... 

For when dreams appear they are nothing more than horrors chasing the light away until I'm thrown from my serenity back into painful reality by a voice calling out to me from the dark.





A sound I'm beginning to despise.

There is no peace here, no gentle embrace to soothe the savage from awakening. No sweet words to quell the rage that courses like black venom through these veins.

I am becoming a thing I no longer recognize. A beastly nightmare whose haunted gaze shows no light within its glowing depths. For what burns there now is no longer the embers of hopeful innocence... It is a blazing inferno of despair, awaiting the moment when the self finally breaks away and the broken pieces of a once tender heart is consumed in hellfire.

I am at a loss.

The poetic prose my only escape. An outlet not quite reality, forced riddles with hidden emotion. Some may taste the bitterness in these words; a terrible darkness that even the cold cannot embrace.


The raven flies overhead, its deep caw echoing just beneath these silver skies. Though the fingers are numb, there's not much left in this hollowed shell to feel anymore.

An endless array of thoughts pouring out through frozen fingertips as I sit out in the bitter cold of this winter morning. Having not slept once again, do to the echo of a man I once knew as my father. His incessant calling, every 30 minutes. His mind consumed in confusion induced 
nonsense... I try to speak, to understand... And even as the pain became too great at this stranger peering back at me, tears hot and unwanted dashing down my flushed skin... He mocked, and belittled. His words slicing through me with no qualms to the severity of damage they would inflict.

All I've wanted was to fight to bring back the hero that I would die for...

It seems this disease is far worse now than it has been, because this is not my father. It's the monster that swims through his frailing veins and poisons his mind. I want to help him, to bring him back out from the thick fog he's lost in...

But it's so hard to want to fight for someone, to be patient and kind, to be gentle and forgiving, to be understanding... When all they do is attack you, talk down to you, curse at you, bare their teeth and growl at you... Treat you as nothing more than a slave to do their bidding whenever the moment strikes them.

This sickness is eating away at one of the most precious people in my life...and because of this, it's already began a change in me. I tried to fight it, I told myself to be strong when I knew I was already falling apart. But it's just too late.

I'm not me anymore. No matter what I do, or what I've done, I see the truth of it. I see it's ugly face for what it really is.




This is simply a battle I will not win.


-Anon-

1 comment:

  1. I know your pain dear erin...thru all the love and faith and prayers and confidence in medical miracles-or otherwise-there was nothing I could...the battle for the most precious life in my existence...and neither I-nor my angels-could sway the inevitable. We are similar souls and beings in the wheel of life and fate...I feel your pain, frustration, and hopes for a triumphant return of the one you love...I hold you in my heart and soul with all the love of the deepest, darkest heart of the forest...just be...dear erin...just be

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