Cyclic Misfortune
On November 10th, 2016, I would come to see the age of 26.
26 years of life on Earth.
312 months.
9,490 days.
A birthday.
On November 25th, 2016, my partner would come to see the age of 30 and my father would die.
A birthday.
A death day.
On January 14, 2017, my sister would turn the ripe old age of 29.
I'd become engaged in January 16th, 2017.
3 days later, my Uncle would die.
A birthday.
An engagement.
A death day.
Come February 7th, 2017 and my Mother would turn 53.
I'd send her a cozy blanket to her new home in Virginia.
It's cold up there in February.
She'd call and thank me.
She'd speak to my girls.
We'd talk wedding plans.
Four days later, my Mother would die.
I'd wonder why, or how, or who. I'd lose my conviction to the chaos of life and reel it in again. I'd seek out comfort. I'd seek out hope. I would even seek out a conclusive definition to life's cruel intentions, but to no avail.
It's like drowning.
Gasping.
Clawing at the surface.
Shooting needles through my lungs.
Bubbles rise and break the surface.
Sometimes, you can hear seagulls or ambient oceanic sounds that remind you, even though you are being sucked into the abysmal depths of the ocean floor, the world continues to breathe.
Sometimes, you brace for sleep only to be jolted awake.
Right now, at this very moment, I'm sailing off in a life boat, still shivering and wet, but alive and forever grateful for the rescue team.
A portion of my father's ashes sit above the bar in my living room, alongside his prized harmonica.
A poem that my uncle wrote rests atop a bookshelf.
My mother is ingrained in every thing I say or do or think.
The show, as they say, must go on.
Drowning
You don't deserve this
And neither do I.
My fucked up mind
Wants to see this die.
Sympathy won't suit you
It'll earn you no score.
It's impossible to fix this
whilst your begging for more.
I wish I was normal
so you wouldn't have to see
what this illness
is doing to me.
I'm sorry.
I'm fucked.
My brain's out to get me.
I'm wasting away
from bubbling to empty.
Leave me.
It's fair.
You don't deserve this
but neither do I.
I didn't ask for this.
Damnation
Damnation.
Damned nation.
Generation without destination.
Trauma only shifts the foundation.
Sedation and medication,
a prelude to drug affection.
Make it heavy on the oxidation.
A sound body and mind,
forgoes time,
without reason or rhyme.
Wars foretold,
days of old.
Speak of dedication and
aortal perforation.
Words make me skiddish.
Make me wish,
the earth had shifted.
This damn nation damned nations
for economic proliferation.
Our only motivation,
a lack of education.
Enter damnation,
damned nation.
Carbohydrates.
I sit and wait surrounded by wire barb.
Waiting for the last bite of a sweet, sweet carb.
Haven't had one in a while,
As it turns out.
Only thing I'm eating these days
Are heaps of self-doubt.
They escort me through a narrow door,
And there's pizza, pasta and burgers galore!
I bump the table
As I make my way
There, on the floor,
The carbs now lay.
It's fitting, though,
Eating like a rat.
Karma can be a dick like that.