I’m not so sure the path of least resistance is possible, though the path of LESS PAIN is.
There’s this mental space I go into every once in a while – it’s kind of like limbo, but darker and drearier, though it’s definitely a place where you wait for revelations to happen. The kinda of mental place that has to be cleared of all ‘things’ first so that you can have the damned revelation, if one is due. Revelations usually are just around the bend when you’re in a dark place, or when you’re in trouble up top, meaning – on earth.
I recently found myself going downhill rapidly, kinda just sucking down into the vortex of weird, feeling things TOO keenly – like an empath on a bender…so NOT good. Feeling things ‘too’ intensely isn’t good, nor is it superior, or romantic, or sensitive in a ego-boosting way. It’s actually too self-indulgent, but it happens automatically, and uncontrollably. It just totally sucks is what it really does. So, I was on an empathic bender, so to speak, and I was breaking down like nobody’s business.
I made myself sick over it…which worked perfectly well with the jet lag and the billion hour flight back on Air Ebola, coming back from the UK. So, between jet lag and a raging cold, no sleep AND my personal array of fuckedupness and oversensitivity, I ended up plummeting into that weird subterranean blackout spot, which is also known as the Da’at, in Kabballah. No, I’m not a practitioner, but I just know a little bit about everything in the world – you know that how goes. Continue reading “Empath on a Bender”
The city of love
is a city of trash
and le Chat Noir
is le warning NO, a big bash in the paranoid head
Le Metro teems with possible threat
and everyone’s face is frightened and dead
Jet lag has taken away my ability
to know whether I’m just sick or depressed
the heart of gold, she hides in plain site
the heart of gold, how nobody figured that one out, what a blight.
Must I spell it out, that I tried
that I tried to be the shimmering light
that in order to shine I need to be seen
it’s quantum physics, that’s what I mean
Not a fraidy chat noir, NO
that kind of courage sparked an open passage
I went to the depths of love and found only skulls
and le warning NO, shhhh, and quiet
fragility lives here, hush or crush the cavern
moves true or false have power here
the choice: bury yourself alive
or crawl to the surface and flee
remember who you are, golden heart, heart of gold
remember who you are.
I cannot be dissolved in patterns
confused by mazes
I cannot fall again, knees cracked
I cannot fall again
It’s never a good sign to write poetry in one’s sleep
to wake up at 3, burning with ash in the throat
fending off sadness
never a good sign to cough up old bones, dust
never good to pull the skeletons of other bodies out of one’s own skin
time to yank on ye olde faithful switch of numbness
much like the emergency brake on Le Metro
stop this train
stop this pattern
stop this hopelessness
let the golden heart rise
let her rise up and be
All I want to do is give love and receive it
Is that too much to ask?
Must there always be such high stakes
must the payment always be compounded death?
I don’t want these skulls!
I don’t want this job!
I’m not the cemetery caretaker!
I’m the heart of gold, can’t you see it in my name?