Tag Archives: loss of self

By the stars (I am obliged)

Beyond the looming stain of day, afar

is where one’s body lies frozen–gilded by stars

and the wisps of cold that tease down thy breasts,

cooing bursts of dew from within lost breath.


I speak for the one, but should you query

whom, your insistence does leave me quite leery.

‘Speak for the one who knows not what to say,

and regards boundless confinement as the only such way.


By the stars soaked through one’s cloth,

I am obliged to shed light on flesh; a moth’s

flame to guide the forgotten back from wence

it came–no measure, no morsel of penance.


Starved of immortality and weak under

wings of war, I too feel my flesh torn asunder

by the seeds of humanity that grow about

my oneness; the stars bearing life I am without.


Perhaps I am the one; the gilded expanse,

a folly of the stars in line with the romance

of tranquility and dawn.  The irony of a dawn

that is broken but will not break.  Where has it gone?

Life as a really bad soap opera.

There’s no more surprises.  The conclusion is a little overdue.  Finding meaning is like grasping at straws.  Not even straws.  Those thin little brown, two-holed, stir-stick-straws that come with coffee and I’ve never really come to functionally understand.  Those straws are a parody on life in their own right.

I pushed my sister.

It was awful.  I thought it was almost funny, the way she wrapped around the arm of my couch before falling off the adjacent side of it.  It wasn’t funny.  It was pathetic.

It wasn’t even in slow motion.  It just happened as though it has happened a million times before….  Had it?  I don’t think so.

My conscience is foggy.  I pushed my sister and didn’t feel guilty, and I feel guilty about that.  Right?  Does that make me better?  It doesn’t feel like it does.

I mostly just feel empty.  But why should I feel anything?  Why do I care?  Obviously I felt angry, now what is she feeling?  Is she feeling like I failed as her brother as much as I feel I have been failing, failed, and will fail again at being…. a person?

What is a person?  Do people really make mistakes?  Is this forgivable?  Are they?

I feel very wronged.  I was hurt, so I lashed out.  I was let down.  I don’t want people in my life anymore.  People are bad company.  But I need people to live.  Money doesn’t grow on trees.  Experience doesn’t grow on trees.  It all grows on people.  Lets face it, I’m not sustaining myself.

I’m a user.  I’m addicted to people.  They are so bad for me but I need them.  But what am I even using people for?  What is it that I’m doing to make everything okay for me in the end?  Is that what life is supposed to look like?  You use my back, I’ll use yours?  Something like that.  That’s not living.  I should know, right?

I pushed my sister.  She cried and she left.  I wrote about it and am going to sleep on a bed of nails.

Vaguely, Humanity.

I think that I am going insane.

I no longer feel human.  I feel empty and jaded.  Sometimes when I forget about him, or about my life in general, and I find the peace within myself to do something I used to love, I am at ease.  But I am crazy.

Life has become so exhausting.  I fear any relationships I form with people at this point are a matter of convenience.  I fucking hate people.

Was I ever thoughtful and compassionate and trusting?  Was it all just a dream?  I feel like I am not even sentient anymore.  Like I am just a mental mishap drifting between death and dormancy.

Even at my worst, in my old life but a memory, I had pride in some things.  I am confident in my writing, my soul, my capacity to do good by other people; In my old life.

Why do I have a job where I spend all day being scrutinized and socialized and standardized by ass-hat socialites?  Why do I have friends who I in earnest have nothing in common with?  Why do I even have friends?  Why do I employ effort in humanity at all when I don’t consider myself to walk amongst it?

I no longer conform to life.  I am no longer breathing.  I am drifting, and agonizing, and dying.  One day I will be dead.  It will be enough.