(what's a girl to do?) irRatIOnAL/ indispensable.....IrreSponSibiLiTy
Irregularity Irreplaceable...UninHibIteD....Helpless.. DesPerAtiON!! UNTIL - that little orange tablet dissolves. Choose your poison wisely.
Feb. 23, 2010.
"noonish"
It is bland and tasteless. There is no color to the landscape. Browns, grays; white. Canvas. Except, for yellow school buses.
There is no electric HuM around my head, despite the overhead power lines that crisscross above.
But, if I listen closely -
caw cAWW!!
chirpchirpchirpchirp.
Drip.Drip.Drip.Drip.Drip.Drip.
A distant voice.
A car splashing through, hurriedly.
Inside, the brick walls haunt me. Same four walls, different in every room. It's just like everywhere you go - something is always omnipresent
to lure your mind back into thinking of 'home,' if you've been pleasured to ever have a steady one...
I am haunted. Waking nightmares of never being able to sleep; to never ever dReAMmmmm.
A peculiar man with bony hands sits in the corner of my mind, and from him comes harsh criticisms.
He sits in his chair, looking tall, lanky, and -
quite disturbed himself.
He waits.
Waits.
Although, the wait is usually never too long. He waits, for me to cave. To give in.
"Choose your poison wisely. There are many more elements other than just the one of surprise in this life's game. Good luck."
HE is menacing. Manic. But calm. He is my psychosis at it's finest! He waits, still and silent, just watching...And every so often, he whispers to me:
"Choose your poison...Wisely...muahahahaha."
It is enough to make me not want to remain awake, nor to be asleep. As our dreams are thought to represent and illustrate our suppressed emotions -
this is my fear -
I cannot escape it, waking or sleeping...Something has always been there for to lean on; a 'crutch' if you will.
Cigarettes.
Liquor. Pills.
Weed!
Pills to sleep.
Pills to calm down.
Pills to be healthy...
pills
pills
piLLs
END the pills, already!!!
Tragedy!
Malevolent delights!
But NEVER - I say to myself (and sometimes, aloud)- will I become like THEM.
Shaking, sweating, twisting and fiendish.
Never.
But, yet - standing at this crossroad, I realize that it has come very very close - to me becoming just like THEM.
But now - now, I can clearly understand. I swam through the agony, and can see that you can ONLY see through smoke and mirrors and illusions while in the midst of being held onto SO tightly by such a vice.
No clear thinking.
Only do you realize this you remove the one element that you've ALLOWED to control you. Remove it, and you will see...
Haunted.
Daily, with constantly wanting to please that intimidating Man in the chair, in the corner of my mind. Oh, the stories he whispers to me, over the electricity. He is louder than it. Much, much louder. Deafening, even.
My invisible Man.
My invisible struggle.
Every so often, too, this bastard of a character will do something so, so vile and evil:
He will, with a flick and slight rotation/roll of his wrist - shake loose a pill bottle - the sound, awakening that sense (or is it deprivation?) in you that reminds you...
How good it feels to uP!
Alive!
But, never understanding
that you are really only
Committing SuiCidE!
Ah, well.. the blind lead the blind, with 20/20 vision of destruction!
Then, I feel a shift.
As if some tectonic plates of my being have shifted. Now, I wait to embrace the flood...
It's called:
"Getting Well".
And I'd much more, honestly just STAy well - on my own, without science's chemical engineering.
"This! THIS," I yelped aloud -
"THIS is what 'they' want!"
(The electricity - does it really intervene with our brainwaves, interrupt our thinking transmissions???
It may, but -)
still, I scream:
" 'They' are selectively picking off the weak - the junkies, the addicts, the unemployed( due to the world having driven you insane, and to be compensated with SSI). THIS is the New World Order.The Chemical Age, not new, not by any means at all - But improved, indeed. Stronger. Faster. Longer-Lasting. Oxycontin. Xanax.Percocets.Cocaine.Absolut. Klonopin. Beer. Weed. Yeungling. Ambien. Seroquel. Oxymorphone. Caffeine. Nicotine."
"Name your game, make your trade - choose your poison - wisely.A final 'script' so to speak, one that has ended on very bitter terms for many."
I refuse to continue to chisel out my own name in my headstone, as life moves along daily. Absolutely refuse.
Put down the chisel....
The hauntiNg -
of sleeplessness.
Of no motivation.
Of despair.
Of the screaming feeling that stays pent up inside my lungs, waiting, like cancer to explode and take over my entire being. Consummation.
I am haunted by the dripDripDripDripDripDripDrip of this cold and gray winter. Cabin fever vs. Winter Psychosis?
Or is it just "Seasonal Affective Disorder" (ah, what a cute acronym - S.A.D., ha, I scoff)?
Waiting, like the man in the chair. In the corner of my mind...
To falter.
To fail. But - NO! I cannot fail!
It is my invisible struggle. My invisible Man, who, twisting his hair around a single, bony finger - rolls his wrist and shakes that bottle. He is temptation. And my fight.
Maybe...
He is my conscience.
Maybe
he is a father figure.
Maybe....
He is my guardian angel.
Or, maybe...
He is merely another one of my
DeMonS.
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New Thought(less):
1:07 a.m.
1:47 a.m.
3:07 a.m.
7:07 a.m.
7's? Lucky No. 7. If only I were a gambler - but no, that is just another addiction that I do not need.
I do know things that must be done. Thirsts that must be quenched. Thoughts, turned to dreams - then to dust -
Literally -
laying in perfectly cut lines on the table.
One for you,
two for me.
One more for you, I'm not that mean. Unless, of course, you're fiendish in these delights, as most usually do become.
Then it's all for you.
None for me.
And vice-versa.
Oh, what a healthy mind-frame in which to remain.
The buzzing sound of electricity has my thoughts once again. And yet - yes, another thing haunting me - Damned Stephen King and his stories of madness, of "The Flexible Bullet"; thing in grandiose of gnomes living inside of pens, pencils, keyboards, typewriters and such.
Gnomes, as inspiration.
Cute.
SO, I suppose that Mr. King has accomplished what all writers wish to do - haunt the reader (me). With madness, and flexible bullets. I suppose, on a whimsical note, that he has earned his credentials.
I hate the alarm clock.
I hate the clock, period.
Times moves fast, yet, so slow.
Droned and muttering by in whispers as February comes to it's end. I can only pray for sunshine, sometime soon (please, save me) and this bitterness, of Winter's tongue, has lashed me to
the walls - those same four walls. Different in every room..
Epiphany.
New Outlook. Those scare me, too, in a sense. And then, sometimes, a new door opens, offering a while new beckoning, a whole new route to 'chemical perfection' to make things a little bit better - But as always, it is a little bit better, only for a little while.
A new demon, he will remain nameless...
The Man, in the chair - in the corner of my mind - he points that finger, bony, nagging, disapproving and judgmental. That is all He must do. Just point. And I know. I have failed, one more time.
EpiPHaNY -
fleeting, open-minded moments of clarity. Those are the moments that flash by you like life does after your high school career. Time flashes. Sands shift. Things change. But some things never change. Those things are usually always the negative things - our vices, our habits; our weaknesses...
Time has passed now, and the day still remains cold, still presses my mind to the old worry - of not sleeping. Incapable of sleeping long enough to at least be captured by that deep, inner dreaming. Awoken, as if being grabbed by the shoulders. Awoke, as though I am pinned to the sheets, writhing in my own perspiration, waiting, just like my Invisible Man. Waiting, until the next time...
Pills for sleeping. Pills for calmness. How about - PiLLs - for normalcy?
No, that is untruth at it's finest. Normalcy can only be defined by what one perceives is 'normal'. We all have differing opinions. And we all have different names for our demons, even though they are one in the same. Once, I heard:
"Of all my demons, I need you the most."
Beauty, encapsulated by quotations.
Questions to raise, glasses to clink. Drink to this sickness. Drink to normalcy. Drink, to numb the un-numb-able. Anesthetized, but sensitive.
-still-
(pause)
HaLT!!!!
In addition to my Invisble Man- Yes, you know of him very well by now -
the one in the chair, seated silently, yet poised for anything - in the corner of my mind...You should be familiar with him by now. Ah, YeS! What I must do now is driNk! Cigarettes, devil cigarettes, Sleeping pills that don't work long and my brain, plagued by all my evil. By the evil around me. But, I am also overcome by the innocence I see in my own seeds.
Three, there are...
And only three shall be.
I listen once again, to these sounds that surround me. Now, I come to the point where I tell you of the OTheR man in my head - who is NOT invisible. He is real - very much so. And so, with the bond of a common likeness - a common psychosis, even. This is the other, less selfish part of my mind. He is strong, yet he thinks himself weak (at times).
This is NoT the Man in my mind that I try to please. This is the man that I wish to help, and sometimes feel helpless in my efforts.
Because -
as the Invisible Man said:
" You have already failed."
I hear a voice and it rings loudly of familiar pain. But it is not the same. The pain, that is. It is not the same as his. Our experiences and the pain they may bring, are what we are molded by.
Live and learn.
Wish and dream.Hope for better days. I, sometimes, know not how to help, when- at times,
I am helpless myself - at times, that is...
My mind, constantly shifting in thoughts, either full or incomplete, random and sputtering...But constant, always a constant. Torment.
To fail ones self, is harsh enough. But to begin to fail your family -TorMent.
Shifting sands.They haunt me also. When I do dream, I dream of the desert. Blinding heat, and I wake up sweating in bed on a nightly basis. I dream of terrible, horrible insects. They also haunt me (as you may have guessed by now) : )
Shift
Again.
Needs will remain- at bay? Find out on another day, a better day. These things that I miss, they are amiss. Bathed in the moonlight, I drink and I toast. I listen with intent to words of others, even though sometimes.....it's like falling upon deaf ears.
Copyright February 2010 K. Anne Smith
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