It’s a just a day like any other for most,
But I feel spent, hollowed out, drained,
Sitting on my couch, the day seems insignificant now,
As Siouxsie sings of Cities in Dust on my turntable,
I notice how a day in the city weighs heavy on me,
The work itself isn’t (always) the problem,
It’s the emotional energy of getting and being there,
It’s taxing, spicy anxiety and doom coping, sap everything,
My brain is constantly in self-defence mode,
By afternoon, when I again breath country air, I’m done,
I trip to and fro across a fine line between tears and sleep,
City and people in large amounts are a big stress that I struggle with,
When did I become this whiny old bitch,
I have good job, and a great team of colleagues,
But I feel eaten up and spat out, and I’m tired of it all,
But there shall be no rest,
Because,
It’s a just a day like any other.
Urge to Create
Moments appear from nowhere, creative portals forcibly open,
Some call it inspiration, I call it, mandatory participation,
Moments when we MUST create something, anything,
To do otherwise is uncomfortable, it cannot be ignored,
So, we create.
Lost in a Shadow
The telemetry of happiness is not set in stone,
While the day to day shadows ebb and flow,
They constrict and entwine, then all thoughts tangle,
Inside our shadow, we follow any negative angle,
Life passes us by, forever creeping on,
Before you know it you’re wondering where life has gone,
Time is meaningless here, as it spirals into black,
Lost too long in my shadow, makes it hard to get back,
For the comfort of sadness, provides powerful longing,
When lost in a shadow, it’s only ourselves we are wronging.
Ghost of the past
After the senses are confused by a fool’s interactions,
Recovery unveils a sombre, but clear new outlook,
Clarity shows, the best that you could do was not enough,
Wasted energy, thought and emotion, time lost to futility,
Unseen efforts in vain, understanding comes from a life lived,
Some are reminders of truth, in a world fabricated for coping,
Others take, some listen, but we are all just ghosts of our past.
Day 153
Today I try to seek calm in turbulence,
Find respite during confusion,
Sleep, because the night failed me,
And peace, despite its detractors.
Know your Station
Don’t put your words in my mouth,
I see you, what is your endgame,
Don’t bend my words to fit your purpose,
My expression is my own, know your station,
Don’t assume we’re even on the same platform,
This bullet train takes no passengers.
What is going on?
Some days I wish I could go to bed and just evaporate, it’s a useless fucking world to be a part of.
I’ve noticed that the older I become, the more clumsy and weak I get, I repeat fucking stupid things and keep doing it.
I repeat the things I say so often without knowing who I told them to, until I my wife tells me she’s had enough of hearing the same fucking thing over and over, I feel like I’m losing my mind.
Time has zero relevance, I feel like I’m floating mid air on an elastic time continuum, one day it is Saturday, and the next it’s a week later on a Thursday and my name is now Jim.
This shit is never going to get any easier.
Spare a Thought for Today
Spare a thought for today,
As it relentlessly endures against the odds,
Battling ice, sunshine, and storms of wind and rain,Â
Cast into service, eventually succumbing to darkness,
Enslaved, doomed to repeat it all again tomorrow,
Spare a thought for today, for it’s a lot like you and I.
Edge of Sleep, The
It’s 1am, I don’t yet wish to go to bed and dream,
In the next room I can hear my wife breathing as she sleeps,
I’ll join her shortly, but I need to clear my mind first,
I’ll sit and type, and wait for my eyelids to get heavy,
I need to put myself right at the edge of sleep first,
I’ll hit the pillow, and my eyes will find the ceiling,
There I will lay, not quite asleep, not quite awake,
In a few hours I’ll drift off and relive my day in dream form,
I’ll recap it now while awake, and see how they compare,
Today I vegetated watching a Grand Sumo broadcast,
While large men were thrown from an elevated clay Dohyo,
I played video games and gave my brain some escapism,
It’s 1:20am, my body aches, my eyes sting, the edge is here,
Time to bring another Saturday to a close and retire to bed.
Time to step from the edge of sleep into the ocean of dreams.
Part poem, part journal entry, a great way to make myself tired.
Is this something you've tried before? I rarely like to recap a day, but doing so informs me that I was in control of myself and my surroundings. Sure it's a rather brief and tedious days coverage, but it was just the ticket my brain needed.
Below the Surface
You put on a daily mask, you nod and smile, and pretend,
Acting like you’re not concurrently drowning in quicksand,
Struggling as it reaches your ears and all sound ceases,
The world, everyone, and everything you know feels silenced,
Your eyes display a panic that your screams cannot express,
Not long after, there is total darkness as your face is covered,
Your throat is choked with filth, and you suffocate silently,
A crushing weight and pressure lay on every part of you,
You can no longer struggle, all you can do is lay motionless,
Enveloped in black emptiness, a nothingness cold and numb,
There’s no comfort, for even in this state you’re pulled downward,
This is managed daily, I’d like to introduce you to depression.
Dan Verkys 