Monday, December 5, 2011

Rock Visage and Flesh-Colored Antidotes

My head hurts because external stimuli stabs my heart
so I scream into space and punch walls trying to restart my emotional footing
I hate tears because fear is better than pity so I shrug off what appears to be pathetic embrace and yell fuck off because I’m not accepting charitable touch and grace

a rock is and always will be better than a drop of water when you’re trying to break windows, you see…

I have a hard time reading this because nine times out of ten I have to pretend like I have a finished veneer impenetrable to pain inflicted far and near
when all I want deep down inside me is to not be afraid of true expression absolute to me – quite frankly fuck subjectivity and camouflaged ambiguity hiding as the truth

But yet, here is the mask I wear and often flaunt. With flare.
And this mask gets more deceptive with time instead of weathering away like things actually living
I don’t—won’t—take it off because—wait, well I don’t actually know why
Ironic: this knowledge actually makes it all worse because there could be a name to the face on this mask but I still don’t have a face I can share

It’s called the postmodern condition of ambiguous schizophrenic egotism
But fuck that.
The blame games and name/shame shit doesn’t change the fact I’m hiding behind a front

This mask has more facets of existence other than masquerading fury in place of sadness
Like how I bite my tongue when I should scream and scream when all I want is to retreat inside my mind
but then again, sometimes my thoughts burn too hot to hold and too furiously noisy to control

But in my mind I can and will and do confide her face to my thought’s eye
and when our eyes lock the sparks that fly and the reflection of my smile in your iris lets me see what a real fucking smile on my face looks like
Lips that lock tear down any vague sense of self-imposed gates
I get a natural chemical rush that scorches my skin and heart with fiery hot bliss and there’s a unity that’s passionately peaceful when we kiss
and I realize I’ve been looking for this unfiltered reflection of myself for all my life

The coldness that I create due to a life’s worth of fronted fakeness is serenely heated to 98-point-6 when I lie embraced in your arms on a bed wrapped in sheets baptized in an internal attenuator that pacifies thoughts to loud to think about because you’re beside me
This is what a real sober thought feels like.
My thoughts are not clouded by internally inflicted crucifixions when I hold you tight into my arms.
When I’m with you my heart feels warm
not cold

Happiness comes from an external version of something else beautifully internal and almost certainly pained
Unity – that’s figurative or literal or both – creates an escape, flesh-colored in state
She’ll give me strength to confront internal fractures irreparable when they’re left to me
because I don’t think living is an ultimately finite road meant to be travelled alone

Life as a truly solitary path creates a tragically fucking selfish existence in passing
and absolute unity in whatever love-flavored form buffers all the bullshit inherent to truly living alone

I’m waiting for this jigsaw puzzle piece to fall into place and I’m skimming along the surface of my thoughts best I can
avoiding the dangers inherent to murky pseudo-subconscious thoughts
balancing that with my deconstructive eye for vices of the mind

There’s brightness in a dark self-imposed cave because you’ll be there

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