I am transfixed
Held in place by chains of anxiety
I have gouged their hooks deep into my chest
As if their restraint could keep me safe
Believing the lies that they whisper
That beauty can still grow in a life without risk
But healing has taught me well
Not to trust sermons built from trauma
I can see this trap I've built myself into
And I ask the Universe to guide me through it

My body is my own worst enemy
Trapped.
inside - and stuck
Inside - with no escape
from the claws of this illness that
take hold of me

Rage - it pours from me
still, even though I have
no energy
left

I am left with scraps of
who I once was
- - and now?
What am I but a shadow of a previous
copy version of me  

I yearn and I grieve and I plead
but I am led yet again and again
to an endless tunnel of dread
that fills me to the brim
with nothing left but
the face of the victim
staring back at me in the mirror

I fear so much and so often -
this weakness has a grip so fierce on me
this sickness that has stolen so much from me
this demon has ****** and fed
on every bit of strength I have bled
of every bit of happiness I have shed
and left me with -
nothing

Nothing but empty vacancy
That is how it feels to be stuck
inside
a body that can no longer feel
normalcy

My body is my own worst enemy
Trapped.
inside - and stuck
inside - with no escape
So here I stay
Stuck and inside - and
Trapped
with no escape

Curse the poets blood.
No matter how much I cut myself, I cannot bleed it away.
Curse the poets skin.
I cannot tear it off, it holds everything in.
Curse the poets feet.
The more I try to run away, the more they dig in, rooted to the words that ground my life.
Curse the poets tears.
They provide no comfort. They blur my vision, wet my pages and smudge my ink.
Curse the poets mind.
At times I dream of throwing it all away. But I cannot differentiate between reality and figments of creativity.

Same place
  same state
  same memory

What if
  its our essence
  no movement
  sanction to experience
  what is
  no motion to distract
  
and within the malaise
        shifted orientation
        acclimatize

Breath reawakening

                                        Nirvana

I can feel them.
Banging! On the big steel wall.
Their sounds are muffled never quite taking shape.

I press my ear right up close
to see if I can    just.        get.         one.
One little breakthrough and I know it will break the dam.

My frustration is building,
because I have these ideas,
but that means nothing,
when I can’t get them down.

Words don’t fit together right.
Or translate the way that I’d like.
There’s this massive block within my mind.
I wish I could just make it say goodbye.

I once heard someone say
when discussing life’s troubles

“Don’t worry, God is flipping
the big pancakes”

I thought
“It’s a good thing somebody is”

even the little silver dollar ones
come out burned on one side
gooey on the other
and stuck to the wall
when I try

It’s like you’re stuck in a locked room and everything is burning except you