Tag Archive | remorse

Hope?

The Fuel Of Continuance

Almost all of my life I’ve been mentally ill.
This profound revelation comes at a late stage.
I have made poor decisions that caused harm and grief.
In a fit of psychosis beyond my belief,
I have severed my roots. I am left to engage
In extreme self-analysis. It is no thrill.

I’m face down in my own crap, and my, what a mess.
It would take me a lifetime to straighten things out.
But I’ve already screwed up this life as it be.
Can I find a solution somewhere inside me?
Quickly I was approaching the terminal doubt…
That I should not have been born. I feel less than less.

What I wanted my whole life I already had…
Loving parents, a fine home, and family life.
I flushed that down the toilet. Now, having done so,
I am haunted by thoughts of where my soul might go,
But at least I’d not be here to cause people strife.
I recall only times when I’ve made people sad.

My big plan is to clean up the big mess I’ve made.
With the help of my God I can get this thing done.
I shall pay off my huge debts and own property
Through the special talents God bestowed upon me.
All that I ever wanted was to be someone
Who is loving, and I am still on that crusade.

About Sleep

Nocturnal Flight Of The Spirit

An addiction to sleeping…? Why not a disease,,,
To be unconscious one third the time I am here
Should be called my existence? It fits like a glove.
In my dreams, like a free bird, I zoom out above
Where I can’t when I’m wide awake in constant fear
As my life quickly wastes away and no one sees.

It’s at worst therapeutic. The cycle of sleep
Has a three quarter rhythm like some poetry.
It’s the nearest escape hatch without absolute
Departure from the physical. Rather acute
Is my life situation. Where I need to be
Is far off from where I am, so my soul does weep.

Meditation and sleeping are somewhat the same.
They both bring much relief from the troubles at hand.
As each is made available, there is my chance
To remember that I am not my circumstance.
Terminal, though it seems, may it help me expand
Far beyond a solution to mitigate shame.

I rely now on guidance. I’m on cruise control.
Things I do throughout my day I don’t think about.
Mindfully automatic with each daily task
With no judgment from me, I do most humbly ask
That I live through my hell with no measure of doubt
That redemption is possible for my damned soul.

Healthy sleep is wellbeing of body and mind.
I have more energy, and my mood can remain
At a workable level. If I were ok –
Like no one on this earth – I’d have nothing to say.
I exist to express things, and it keeps me sane
And conscious of the moments when I’ve been unkind.

Death Rattle

Painted Into The Corner Of Darkness

Stay Alive. That’s a challenge. I’d better not fail.
Chances are I won’t do that, but chances are that
I will die in the process through no fault of mine…
Not even indirectly, which would suit me fine.
Let the shit happen quickly. The drop of a hat
Is a reason acceptable for me to bail.

As the brunt of life’s karma comes on at full force…
When there’s no one to go to; all bridges are burnt,
And I can’t find an answer to save my own soul,
Have I left any reason to aim for a goal?
I must still think I’m worthy, because if I weren’t
I would not be attuned to a special resource.

As the hat drops, the shoe falls. I know not which one
To entangle the horns of with my intellect
Or the brute force I muster when misdirected.
Anyone who would say that I’m better off dead
Hasn’t suffered like I have and has no respect
For the foolish and how in err they get things done.

The Death Rattle I feel, and it hangs fairly low.
In the pit of my stomach is where it begins
To erupt through the heart chakra into my throat.
When denied every platform I need to promote…
I must know that it’s karma for all my past sins.
Hopefully there’s an answer my living can show.

 

Trivial Pursuits

Positive and Friendly; Appreciating Harmony

It’s seen simply as trivial… all that I do
From sun up ‘til sundown and the time in between.
Though to me it’s important, and I shouldn’t care
That the gift that I offer is not meant to share
With any but this troubled self. Why am I seen
As the fool who does nothing? Am I ugly too?

If folks took me more seriously would I be
In this hellish predicament victimized so?
I suspect that the answer is all up to me.
I am friendly to no one because none can see
I’ve a genuine purpose. It just doesn’t show.
I’ve become quite embittered, yet who can agree?

Someone started a joke in the form of a game.
Too late into it I find no reason to laugh.
Maybe I’m not supposed to. I feel I should cry
While awaiting complete withdrawal when I die.
I came here not to play, so the best epitaph
Is a statement of substance to honor my shame.

People don’t want to know me or read what I write
Because I’m lacking something. Clearly I’ve no clue.
It remains a big secret to me yet it’s fun
To the world and its players. For me there is none.
I feel I’m being punished, but what did I do
To deserve the aloneness? Why am I uptight?

When depression evolves into anger it’s seen
As a worthwhile improvement. I’ve given up hope
That getting any better can do me much good.
I’ve been at life a long time. Its blatant falsehood
Leaves no meaning where I can successfully cope
With abject isolation in my sick routine.