My mind is always creating

My mind is always creating whether in a dark space with destructive thoughts swirling round infinitely inevitably, leaving my brain stuck in itself or in a spring day with my imagination engaged molding meaning excited exuberant expanding without limit or cause If only I could force one into the other but I can't stop the dark thoughts with metaphors and meaning; and the happy creations are immune to destruction.

Never my dream

This was never my dream. This was not where I was suppose to live. This was not what I was supposed to do. Only when I shut my eyes I am there. Nothing is right. It's all wrong. And there is no way to change it but one.

It's my fault

It's my fault for so many reasons. I don't want to but that's not a choice I'd mention my illness  but that's just an excuse but that's just selfish.  It's simple really. I'm not enough. It's my fault alone.

Your words don't matter

How arrogant to think your words matter. There is so much content now on TV on Radio on Podcasts in newspapers on TikTok and Instagram on Facebook and Twitter on Youtube as well. Why does what you say matter? Your words wash over without effect. Don't be so arrogant.

Biking

I am stuck in some creative rut. Everyone tells me that more exercise will help.  I am trying my best. In total over the last two months ending today I have "biked" 90 km.  Of course I have not even left my basement. It's all stationary. That is the distance I would need to travel to visit my dad in Markham. 

I am tired. I'm sweaty.  Not sure I'm feeling anymore creative.

BTW - the picture above is not entirely accurate.  My spandex is red!

I need to engage if I want to feel hope

Fall has been challenging for me both for the obvious reason (COVID) and the not so apparent (my depression and anxiety.)  The poetic have been locked away. I still have ideas in my head but my pessimism and despair has held my hand from writing. 

Lately though, I feel I have turned a corner. I have been reading a lot of Kurt Vonnegut and it has inspired me. No poems are on the immediate horizon but I hope to add other types of content and breath life into this Blog, even if it is just a few words every couple of days. I need to engage if I want to feel hope.

Free

From my stomach to my chest, pull my breath free.

I prefer

I much prefer to go to sleep than to wake up alive each morning.

All that I am

I have struggled to push it back but it's impossible, relentless, every opportunity crumbles before it. I have no talent or money. Time is the only gift I can give to myself and others All that I am All that I'll ever be. a life sentence.

I'm tired

I'm tired of thinking about thinking; of dragging myself contrary to my mood and having even this slightest of effort applauded, as if it were imbued with importance.

No dreams

I'm too old to have dreams. I fall asleep so easily now, no  interruptions no thoughts no more.

I am knitting words

I'm knitting words into squares that then fall to the ground. I don't know how to sew them together to comfort my mind This isn't due to any disease but rather my own deficiency.

My death is a private matter.

My death is a private matter. - but it's not - So much pain. So tired. I can't stop now. Disjointed words Broken thoughts I am sorry.

Plato's cave

I was chained in a cave but I've since turned away from those shadows and moved past the fire in search of the true light above.

I'm guilty.

I'm guilty.  Guilty of betraying those I love with thoughts I abhor.  I wish I could pick free the quicksilver beads and clear my mind of its toxins.  I wish  I could just forget and carry on,  oblivious  to all that's past but I can't.

The March wind blows

The March wind blows with the promise of spring. I lift my kite above my head, festooned with rainbow colours and feel the wind catching hold, pulling it from my hands, inviting me to let go, and trust the breeze to fill the sail.

Coward or Killer

Am I a coward  too afraid to act or a killer set on self destruction?

I dream of disappointment

I dream of disappointment so vividly,  the pangs shoot through my viens.

Tomorrow

When tomorrow and the next are filled with fear and dread,  how can I muster the desire to fight for them?

My freedom

What exactly is "your will"? What is locked in the box along with the drugs? My freedom. Your freedom from what? Freedom from living Or from living an empty life? Freedom from sameness Or from the inability to change? Freedom from shame Or from the consequence of suicide?