Confliction

Confliction, confusion.

The world made bright.

Fearful of the end,

Broken, yet simultaneously saved.

Mixture of feeling, confused.
Happy and also sad,
Missing something.
My ability to comprehend.

My ecstatic excitement filled,
While also fearful worry lingers,

My bipolar shifts from happiness, to worry, to sadness, to happiness.
All offering painful confusion.

Shaken to the core,
Worried yet also happy.

Sad to the confliction of my predicament.
Sad to my required bipolar world.

The place that confines me.

The feelings that control, use, abuse and break me.

Tearing my mind apart.

The confliction;
I am happy.
I am sad.
I am worried.
I am excited, enthusiastic, embarrassed and apprehensive.

A plethora of feeling
Opposites, simultanously felt.
My feelings wrapping themselves around me,
Holding me tightly,
Constricting,

Ripping me apart.

Leaving me confused.

Leaving me with conflict.

Emotions. A roller-coaster.
An ever-moving shift.
Hurtful, yet happy.
Sad, yet also happy.

The feelings I cannot explain,
The emotions I cannot control.

My life controlled without my understanding.

The confliction, my emotions, thoughts and feelings.

I am happy.
I am sad.
I am in conflict.
I am… Me.

The Meaning

The meaning,
The being, place and life.
All for something and all of me.

The place of meaning, life and living.
Placed in a world of being, of staying.

My meaning and place. My comfort and solace.

My place being and moment.

The place I feel at home.
The place to escape my torture.

My place, accepting, my being and place.

My world and my being,
To my shaping.
To my creation.

Shaped into comfort and satisfaction.

My meaning,
My world made whole,
My creation of the meaning,
Not there to begin with.

Severing The Mind

Severing the mind,
Ending the feeling,

Erasing my appraisal,
Leaving hollow comprehension.

Emptying the hurt and angst with rage,
To then let go of it all.

To be an observant shell,
A seeing actor,
An empty being.
A barely being.

From sight of site to moving on.
To the next place,
The lonely figure, to travel and understand.

The path,
Only gained by empty sight,
Through unending emptiness,
A path gathered with the emptying of the mind.
The severing of ties,
The hollowing out of feeling.
Cannibalising my mind of feeling.

Leaving it empty and bare,
Understanding left to reign supreme.

A sense of control given this choice,
Not blocked by feeling.
Not hindered by pressure.
Only the choice given and the choice made.

The freedom for change.

The severing of the mind.

Old Wounds

Old wounds,
The scars continue,
The phantom pain,

The wounds unhealing, discoloured and broken inside.
The wounds holding back healing.
The storm in the wound,

A reminder of the pain, the hurt.
The lost part of you.
Broken inside.

Unable to heal, even as you try.

The ongoing reminder,
Of  an old wound gone past,
The remnants remain.

The chains to the memory.
Association of pain, even after it faded.

Hating the chains to the wound.
The crime committed against me.

The wounds on me,
The wounds inside,
The wounds of me.

Those that run so deep,
Internalised into my being;

A toxin,
Poisoning me from the inside,
The heavy blood through my veins

Heavy thoughts, breathing and heart.
Running, within my mind.
Spinning around my thoughts.
Wanting a fix, wanting to repair,
The broken mind.

To escape the reminders,
The immobility,
The paralysis of my broken wound.

Taking tentative steps,
Reluctant,
Collapsing at the weight of my mind.

The wounds that drag me down,
Chain me to the floor,

The abyss of my tartarus.

 

These old wounds.
Tearing at the chains that hold me, confine me.

Roaring in rage.
Into the dying light.
Through the pain, memories and chains.

My voice heard,
An echo in darkness.
Broken, beaten and belligerent.

Battering the prison,
Ripping free of my wounds.

Laughing as I wrestle freedom…

Wrestle myself…

Wrestle my world…

From these old wounds.

 

 

Just been thinking about old wounds, how to feel, how I may fall again. How to avoid it. But worst of all. How old wounds make me reluctant for anything that may produce new wounds. Fills me with rage and confusion. Will go on. Continue to distract myself, until I can find an answer, work out a solution. This is the song I was listening to on repeat when writing this.

Numbing The Pain

Numbing the pain,

Feeling empty,

Dark and cold, all around, to the touch.

Mindless monster, dead being.

Trudging on, unfeeling, numb.

A wreck of the past.

A wound on the world.

A chasm of despair.

The state of being, pain at losing life’s treasures held close.

Ripped from the arms,

Followed by the dark storm, the empty silence and coldness.

Piercing and digging like razors, sharp tendrils into by abdomen. Into my heart and core.

But…

But.

I feel nothing, numbness to pain that comes from its constancy.

Numbing my pain.

Bringing it in. Bringing it close.

Fully reckoning it.

Feeling it.

Until that is all I am.

A numbed pain. Constant. A broken thing. A wound of existence. A storm of calm rage. Outside Alice, while dead inside.

Black Pearl Of Night

The darkness smooth of night,

Patterns in the dark sky,

The silent night.

The emptiness and the dark.

The smoothness formed from irritation.

The blackness imparted on the rest of the world.

A different form from the day,

Small lights peppered across the landscape.

A dark silence echoed,

A world untouched by light.

The dark rolling hills,

The echoes of human steps taken in the human day.

Echoes of people unknown,

Activities of humans once passed.

Left empty and barren,

The dark wastelands.

The ice cold wind.

The scars left from day,

A counterpoint from the silent empty night.

The lonesome night.

The silent dark night..

The echoes left from day.

To the black pearl of night.

The silence.

The emptiness of space,

The solo existence in this emptiness of night.

Alone in the dark,

The only person in existence.

The solitude of my thoughts.

Left to the darkness,

This black pearl of night.

Empty, alone, silent, and solo.

The dark shadow cast upon,

The rest of the world, dark and empty,

Eternal. Empty. A mere echo.

A black pearl,

In its dark beauty.

Its dark radiant shine.

The dark storm encircling inside.

Black and dark like the inside of my mind,

Silent and in solitude, like the confines of my mind.

A barren blackness, a counterpart to life.

This black pearl I’ve found.

The silence I live.

Mine to hold,

Before the black sky.

This black pearl I’ve found.

Left forgotten.

This black pearl I’ve found.

The black pearl of my life.

Ticking Of An Overthinking Mind

Ticking over in my mind,

Overthinking and obsessing.

Going on and on.

Ticking and wondering why.

Why the mind won’t leave me in peace.

Why it goes on and on,

As everything stops but my mind continues on,

Down this path of sadness,

Off into the void.

Onwards in thought.

Ever-thinking.

Ever-feeling.

The surroundings quiet,

But disquiet within my mind.

Thinking and wondering.

Wondering why this happens,

Why I do this.

Why this happens.

Why it goes on,

Ever-feeling and ever-thinking.

The path ahead disquiet.

Unable to quiet my mind,

Unable to suppress my thoughts.

Arms Outstretched

Arms outstretched,

The time gone past,

Arms outstretched in comfort, in care.

In love, life and feeling.

In ecstatic feeling of content,

The ups and downs to be weathered.

The life with its arms outstretched.

To find the diamond in the rough.

The times there,

My path outstretched.

Open and to be mapped,

My course in the making.

My openness and care,

My kindness,

The care shown, care felt.

The life’s course,

To stand by what is right,

No matter who says you are wrong.

To live a life of care, kindness and love.

Touching people’s lives as I hope to feel.

To offer kindness and solace,

A warm embrace and kindness with care.

Confidence in who I am.

In who I can become.

No matter who stands in my way.

No matter the challenge to my kindness and care.

I am who I am and proud.

My arms outstretched,

The future to greet, embrace and hold.

To stand and be proud.

To take my future, life and goals.

To make them my own.

To make them whole.

To embrace the feeling.

To leave the obstacles behind,

Confined to my past,

The darkness pushed aside,

To live out what I can be, do and feel.

My arms outstretched to embrace the future I make before me.

My arms outstretched. To make my own path.

To make and embrace the future before me.

Lessons from the Past

Lessons from the past,

The intricate path taken,

My intricate path walked,

The twists and turns,

The path walked, the path lived.

The path I take for my own.

The way I move,

The way I am.

The mistakes once made,

The faults of my past and my mind.

The path I forge towards my future.

Bright and determined,

Persevering to achieve what I need, what I am.

Forging my path ahead,

Through what I must,

Through what I am.

To what I can be, what I can do:

What I can achieve.

My determination pronounced.

The path I must take.

The way I walk with determination into the coming future.

Confining my mistakes to the past.

Mistakes made and a future to be found.

To be made.

To overcome my limitations.

To learn from these lessons from my past, from within.

To forge my future, my path.

Through those lessons from within.

Those lessons from my past.

Petrified Sights

Those petrified sights,
Within my mind’s eye,

An image, causing great pain and hate.
Reminding, projecting, thinking and pondering.
Giving me such emotion,

Rage, anger, sadness, disappointment and uselessness.
All coming from fictiousness,

Swirling and controlling my mind.
Ripping through my skin,
Grasping my heart in fist.
Wrenched from its place.

The inevitable outcome of these petrified sights.

Shock, wreck and hate.
Gained from pure fictitious nightmares,
Torture of the mind’s eye:
Of what could, what would, what might.

Coming to your bedside, your mind’s side,
Whispering
Illiciting a response,
Hatred, despair, sorrow.

The sights that populate my mind.

Leaving me petrified.