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08-20-2003, 12:44 PM
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#1 (permalink) |
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Here
Location: Denver City Denver
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Inside My Head
This noise in my head… in my tormented brain
This feeling is slowly working its way down my neck Filling my chest Making my arms useless Soon… I know it’ll take over my body Kill me Why am I like this? Why do I treat myself this way? I beat myself over the head with self-doubt trying to remember the last day I woke up and could breath. Or go about my day without fighting back tears. Days now run together and I don’t know what time it is. Last call comes too soon and I need a few more for the road. The pints disappear with the same quickness the bartender pours them. A life lived one barstool at a time. The cause and cure for all of life’s little problems. It’s in my blood to never know when to say enough is enough. I can’t quit and try another way out. Limited options fallow me around and crush my hope for being normal. But what is normal? Kicked to the curb so you have build yourself up again. The only way you can go is up… unless you have a shovel to dig yourself deeper and deeper into the Earth… six feet under. The sight of my own blood no longer satisfies my need for color. Taking that knife to my own flesh can’t give me the pain I need to survive. I never thought I would be a man that lived like this. One disassociated rage to another. I get angry easily these days. I lash out at the smallest things to try and give myself a little bit of meaning and substance. Not just substance abuse. Tearing people apart so they feel the way I feel. Taking one life at a time with words. Because all these fucking medications just cancel each other out and leave me feeling just as twisted and sick. I pop my pills with a lazy mind knowing I will never change… my negative outlook on life. They give me horrid dreams… make me think and re-think. They put a smile on my face to give me a false sense of happiness, security and well being. One day we’ll find it… that rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers but without me. I get left behind no matter what I do. I seem to have been made to take things a little slower and more personal that the rest of you. I take my time to dwell in all that is wrong… fucked and broken. I can’t give up a single second to relax and make something of myself. It’s the curse of the lost soul. Praying to no one over a rocks glass filled with scotch and tears. Trying to drink it just right so I get all that it has to offer. Making my head spin and my legs go weak… just like she used to do. I was always at a loss for words when she was around. But she made it all seem like it was supposed to be that way. I felt loved and warm… with meaning and substance. Not just substance abuse. It’s been awhile. The only chance for something that feels so right comes with being alone. One-night-stands come and go… names escape me as I walk out of their rooms. Walking out of theirs lives as quickly as I made my presence known. The feeling of soft female flesh takes me back to being me… the me before the pain… the noise. Obsessions and unhealthy crushes has become all I look forward to. Maybe one day I’ll catch the one that I was meant to be with. The prize after the never ending races against my own scattered self. Before I sleep every night I close my eyes, picture her face and say, “Good night, I love you.” One day she’ll hear me say it. And maybe one day she’ll feel the same way. Lying next to me with her soft breath rushing across the back of my neck as I fall to sleep. “To sleep perchance to dream.” I dream of life 180 degrees away from mine. A life with her on my arm, a real fucking smile on my face and the noise long ago silenced. A sweet little place to live where the sun always shines down on my now warm heart… no longer shattered. No more images of death… blood sweat and tears. With no need for living my life one barstool at a time. But it is all a dream. Cause I was made this way… I’m supposed to be like this. So fuck the medications… the long talks with friends about how bad it is to be me. Fuck the bartenders and dumb girls that let me in… the anger that keeps me grounded and the life you think I should lead. Fuck the rainbows… fuck the dreams… and fuck the noise. I’m here… I may be on my way but I’m not dead yet. Cause I may not be able to breath but I can still feel and I can still think and see. I can still speak so I can still be heard. And maybe one day I can drown out this noise in my head… in my tormented brain.
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heavy is the head that wears the crown |
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08-22-2003, 12:11 AM
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#2 (permalink) |
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Banned
Location: OlyWa
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sounds like you need to have a change of pace. Get out and see the country, take a road trip, maybe you and a good friend of yours, unless they end up just dragging you down to the level your trying to escape. if they do that, go it alone. visit family from out of the state, meet new family that you have never met. or hell even meet some of your favorite TFP people. just get out of a rut. i know its easy to say, and its easy to listen to that advice, but shut up and do it! i think it would do you good. im not saying shut your feelings up, but if you really think about doing it, dont just talk about doing it and dont follow through... (just thought id clear that up...)
so, get packed, and see the country. plus then you could find some new barstools  |
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08-23-2003, 05:52 AM
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#6 (permalink) |
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Junkie
Location: Utah
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Your words seem borrowed to me.....almost like you were taking what somone had said and writing them down. I can't quite decide if it's because the words are forced, or if it's the muppet line you used. I am reading it and trying to figure out if its really something you have written from your feelings, or if it's like a non-fiction piece you are trying to work on. It mirrors a previous post of yours from the original TFP, before the crash. Although, I am glad you are back here and starting to post here again.
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And as she plays, her sweet song of laughter floats through the air and warms my heart |
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