sometimes, my head explodes

climbing to fall May 20, 2009

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf,hell is other people — somniare @ 12:17 am

I’ve aged a lot lately.

As I anticipate another night of stifled silence, I make plans for contemplations.

My life in boxes and sentiments bagged with the refuse out in the cold. So many deaths I tally in tears (how versatile that word really is) and all of the forms it manifests in… like a metastatic cancer ravaging my every cell.

The words I hold dear to me like the serrated edge of a rusted butter knife in my hand, gouging irreparably into the tendons and ligaments… rendering my grip useless and utterly futile. Nothing more than the thought of strength and best wishes for everyone who let me slip.

How I can love with all of myself… and learn about all of the things I’ve earned in return that even my strongest of pessimism could not predict.

My repellent sweetness in a garden full of perfectly ripened fools… and the slippery trails of invertebrates making their nightly trysts as if I didn’t exist. Perhaps it’s better this way… myself as a rotten fruit or poisoned flesh… a polytropic will to decay where I fall regardless.

I’ll think of equals and less thans. The long fight that I lose to spite myself. All of the many ways I wrap myself in cedar and light my box in flames. My skin beneath the sun and the scars of many burns. The years of solitude and lessthanlight that I would eagerly return to now.

Another night melting beside heat that isn’t mine. Pressing my bruises tighter against… molding my broken bones around… unyielding, ceaseless, merciless agony. And wonder if I love every moment… or if I don’t know any better… any more.

Somehow, beneath it all… it doesn’t seem quite over yet. That’s a shame.


a day in the sky October 23, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf — somniare @ 12:35 am

I wonder about our designated roles in life. The lots we put ourselves in and then struggle so hard to escape from. We put bars around our lot… call them psychoses, neuroses, bad luck… we medicate… we run… we give in… we die inside that space. I’ve seen people slip through those cracks… I’ve done it myself before. It would seem that for me, it’s a short lived victory.

The moment I find myself outside of one terrifying reality, I realize that I’ve run straight into a new and much more frightening temporary land.

The truth about me though… I am destined. I am meant to be a memory. A moment. There are times when I feel as if my entire being is constructed of evaporated tears that have condensed into a form merely baring semblance to a person but having no real substance for which anyone would ever try to hold. It is sad to be a cloud.

Most days, the best I can hope for is to be a happy moment. Remembered fondly like a day spent on the grass staring at those shape shifters in the sky.


time-out October 8, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf,hell is other people — somniare @ 9:50 am

I’ve been absent for a while now. The world around me just seems quiet. Everyone speaking in whispers amongst themselves… leaving me to read lips from my place in the corner.

When my time away becomes apparent… it seems to be forgotten that I wasn’t the one who faced me to the wall… I wasn’t the one who placed hands upon my shoulders, turning me to hear nothing but my own breath reverberating off of the cold paint.

I steal glances of moving lips when no one’s looking [as they so often aren’t], then shh-quick, resume my sentry position monitoring the movement of molecules as I move the air with my rapid blinking and slow exhale in the dark. Swallowing sobs before I draw attention and get in trouble. I wonder where the light goes in this corner… it seems to end at my back… a broad shouldered eclipse.


“please stay” May 30, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf — somniare @ 8:21 pm

Among the ordinary associations we encounter day to day, occasionally something poignant sticks out. One small gesture, a short sentence, a word by itself, or even a barely audible sigh. We pick up on the subtle, ambiguous messages sent to us. From the messenger, they could be the last resort after the obvious screams have been unheard… but to us, the last breath is the most important of all.

There’s something more genuine in giving up than in anything else in this world. In resigning, there’s an opening. We are most raw when we’re letting go.

In my experience, I have given all I have… all I am… every emotion. I scream from the mountaintops in passion, misery, pain. Not one person has truly listened until the tragic sound of the towel hitting the floor echoed through their heads.


isolated May 28, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf — somniare @ 5:50 pm

The islands we inhabit. Our gentle goodbyes whispered, eyes closed tight… just to forget where we are. The oceans surrounding… one could drown quickly being held so tight.

I need.

to drown.


my war against pennies April 25, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf,philosophical muse — somniare @ 12:37 am

I think there’s a portion of everyone’s brain that is fascinated with the science of relationships. Even those who live ignorant to the actual psychology behind social interactions will find themselves counseling they’re friends, loved ones, or even complete strangers on their dealings with others. What sticks out to me as the most common reassurance to those in the middle of a crashing relationship or dying friendship is that you can’t expect to change someone who doesn’t want to change themselves.

Okay, so we’ve established that. There’s a reason we hear this statement time and time again. There’s a reason it doesn’t prevent one from feeling the need to speak those words to others over and over. It should be clear that maybe, what we see on the surface when observing this misstep isn’t all that it seems.

From my experience, my tendency to keep myself in unhealthy relationships and associations isn’t because I’m driven to change the other person. It’s because I remember the better times. I struggle to let go of the earlier stages where we’re driven to please and learn about each other. I believe people are pulled inexorably toward each other for a reason. The problem comes in when that reason turns out to be different than what we desire it to be.

In every association with people around us, we should always find ourselves walking away with something valuable. Pain is like the penny if we were to convert these values monetarily. There’s only so much you can take before your pockets are full and you have to cash it in if you’d like to hold something more than a virtually worthless piece of diluted copper in your hands. Pennies are everywhere, we don’t even notice them until there are so many that all the other coins in the jar seem to be becoming usurped by them. We hate them, they burden us, we vacuum them up with the dust on the floor, we throw them out with our pocket lint. Pain accumulates in a very similar fashion. Eventually, when this is all you can seem to find yourself storing away, the time has come to give up on those brief times you were gathering quarters, dollars, and gems. You can only gain so much knowledge from pain… you can only live for a short while on pennies.

Living off of the memory of happiness gets you even less. This is like recycling cans, gathering the change, and using it to buy more cans of cheap beer. The time will come when you can no longer feed off of what you gained early on… and we all know what years of cheap beer will do to one’s body. We collect memories for the same reasons we get drunk. The ultimate digression. We remember so we can forget… many an alcoholic was born from the temptation of numbness. Our futures can’t be built on a desire to go back.

The most we can do is see those who are important in our lives for what they are each day. Take something away with you every moment you share. Make the effort to show a different side of yourself on occasion… your thoughts, your feelings, your hopes and dreams… these things should change as quick as heartbeats.

Give what you want to receive, be bigger than the penny.


nocturnal insanity… again February 14, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf,in.between — somniare @ 12:49 am

I needed to look at something new, so I borrowed a page from the book of another. Not a literal page from a tangible book… simply the importance of screaming… even if no one is listening.

I feel like my thoughts are constantly yelling, “LET ME OUT!! JUST SAY HOW YOU FEEL FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!!” I try, and try, and try… and everything just comes out all wrong. My emotions tangle together in a knot… like the way I find anger overlapping adoration simply because it’s easier to be mad than it is to admit how much I care. What I mean and what I say become two separate and equally misguided missiles/ Meanings shooting inward to obliterate my mind and speech sent like swarms of angry bees unsure as to whether they should guard their hive or chase their target miles from home.

More and more, I’m finding myself shying away from goals that seem to be unattainable. I used to be so ambitious… fearless in my attempts to get what I want after entering adulthood. Now I’m back to being the withdrawn little girl I couldn’t shake off in my early school days.

This whole thing comes out with a tone of desperation… each sentence ending in a pleading pitch as if everything is a question. The rise and fall of octaves displayed only in the throes of tantrums and the moments before the voice cracks and tears rise hot behind every blink. Yet as I catch my reflection in the glass surrounding this desk, my face illuminated only by the glow of the monitor, you can see nothing more than a lackluster stare and my standard lazy pout… only the occasional scrunching and raising of my brows to give away the possibility of complex thought. The lack of emotion in my face is sickening. What have I turned into?

I always feel slightly insane at the end of the night. I sit down to unwind before I lay down in bed to stare at the ceiling but find myself unable to soothe all that has built up throughout the course of every dynamic day. Even in complete boredom, there’s always something going on for me… something I want to say, somewhere I’d rather be, something I hope or long for, something I crave like a drug. There’s never the emptiness of nothing to just sink into, to engulf me and shut down this cesspool of useless thought. I’d be willing to guess that even in death, I might never find peace.

As the years wear on, I’ll continue this as I always have. Attempting to sort and organize and grow… perhaps one day I’ll scream something more productive than obscenities or cliche. Will anyone still be there when I come around? I can’t bear to be the only one bound to me forever. I’ll only push myself over the edge one day. Does anyone see that I might not take you down with me, but instead rise to the surface? I haven’t seen the light in a long time… hold my hand and pull me out please. I don’t ask for much…