my brain is not awake yet,
nor is my body, really,
and the first sip of coffee is cheap
when
you know you could sleep for hours
even with the whole mug in your bloodstream,
and i keep getting distracted by tiny chores
which probably could/should be done,
but will it take away from these
morning page poetry streams of [semi-un]consciousness(?)
and
why can’t i think of myself like i did
at fifteen
seventeen
nineteen
when i fancied myself a mini-ee cummings
well on my way to
making language my b*tch(?)
even though now it’s probably more reality-based
to think that someone else has thought of
‘streams of [semi-un]consciousness’
before,
but boy,
did it give my ego a boost
to think i was thinking
entirely new thoughts
new concepts
new words
new communications
with new people
instead of how my brain is now
knowing that there are no new ideas
and instead of that spurring me on
to create without worry of plagiarism,
it instead spurns every concept i have
with the barrage of
‘you will never be creative enough
to think of anything
fully
new’
[
you
].
Month: February 2022
February 17, 2022
don’t be scared,
be you.
don’t be safe,
be you.
don’t overthink,
trust your instincts,
be you.
this seems like positive,
encouraging,
enlightening
advice
on the surface
but then my
[overthinking]
brain
turns it all on its head
again
aren’t the scared/
safe
parts
part of me,
too?
is it just another
nature vs. nurture?
how i was born
vs.
what the trauma turned me into?
what do i do
who can i be?
i contain multitudes
it’s why acting
so why can’t i trust the multitudes
within me?
trust
let go
surrender and embrace
February 16, 2022
there was no poem today.
i know you’re seeing one now,
but
there was no poem today.
the thing you’re reading
is an artifice,
a false artifact,
post-written and post-dated
(pre-dated?)
to make the tallied streak continue.
and though it is false,
it isn’t exactly un-true,
for some days i write so much
and some days i don’t share all
and some days i steal from the past,
so today i decided to give back to it instead,
and besides,
i made my own rules for this,
and i decided long ago this isn’t breaking them
at all.
February 15, 2022
a therapy appointment
a good ‘vamlumtimes’
and a cbd night’s sleep
and i’m feeling ever so slightly better today
than i was yesterday
morning
i’m still a little on
the stuck side
a little on
the slower side
a little on
the i don’t know what to write or if i’ll ever really want to write again
side
but
there is a whole day ahead of me
and instead of seeing it as a negative,
as an entire,
bleeding,
long
ass,
gooddamned
day,
i would like to see it as an opportunity;
not necessarily to get things accomplished
(but that would be nice if that happened)
but to get to do things
i want to do
(don’t know what that might end up being
but i’ll do it
!)
~~~
a therapist once told me
to listen to my body,
to let my desires direct my day
that would be great
if
i knew what my body was trying to say…
~~~
when i tell stories
for the first, second, third times
i am testing out wording,
making sure the way i tell the story
in the future
(the memorized-like-a-monologue version)
is the best one,
the most truthful,
the one that elicits the best response.
but sometimes,
when i tell stories that are more than stories,
explorations of trauma,
a tale of something that impacted me
hugely,
i tell it in such a way that,
in observing myself,
i can tell i’m telling it
in order to understand
how i feel about it.
(because, if nothing else, i sure know how to intellectualize)
February 14, 2022
where do these sads come from?
and where do they go when they leave my head?
because, without them, i swear they never existed at all
but with them…
with them, they are
all i’ve ever known
and all i’ll ever have
and the desolation brings with it such desire
to run
to hide
to thwart off
to give in
(even though the only thing that truly helps
is simply
waiting it out,
feeling it,
but waiting it out)
but worse
i think
than the fullness
of with
or without
are the days when i can feel the sads
simply
laying in wait
they’ve not left
but they aren’t overwhelmingly there
everything just feels too
grey to hope
too
stale to cope
too
desolate to even try
to have a good day.
at least when the sads are at their
full force
it’s something;
it’s a feeling,
an emotion,
a carving out
of this day different from the rest
the in-between times
feel like a never-ending
static
in my mind/heart/life
and numbness
to it all
February 13, 2022
yesterday
Kip and i walked outside sans coats,
and built a greenhouse on our deck,
and swept away dead leaves,
and soaked up the sun
as long as we could
(and still a little longer)
knowing that
February 50-degree weather
lasts not nearly as long
as most would like…
and lo and behold,
this morning we woke to
giant, wet snowflakes
dropping from the sky,
piled high on the greenhouse,
and packed atop the steps
kip had so painstakingly ridded of leaves
less than twelve hours prior.
but we still walked
(with coats)
and kip built a tiny snow-person
and the sun didn’t shine as brightly through the snow-clouds,
but i suppose this is the point
of living somewhere
with cycles of weather
that come and go;
so you remember to enjoy the sun
when it arrives…
and it will arrive
again
soon.
February 12, 2022
ignore the shoulds
the have-tos
the obligations
the following of the rules
even the suggestions set out by those not within you
you know your brain
(though sometimes it may not feel like it)
you know your heart
(though you used to ignore it)
you know the gut feelings and the the things that feel right in your
soul,
so
just follow
those
(even if they don’t make much sense in the
present
tense)
February 11, 2022
music
will someday
come back into my life
but for now it’s
background noise
and podcasts/audiobooks to listen to
and cat meows making up the majority
of my auditory
experience.
February 10, 2022
i’m so sad
too sad
the sad that doesn’t go away
the sad where the minute you think you’ve made progress
you’ve figured out that feelings are all meaningless
and will pass any moment now
into a new feeling
you are reminded of some way you are
objectively
awful
(forgotten appointments/
late projects/
letting people down/
not good enough for your own standards/
etc./etc./etc./)
and you fall into that pit
once more
(not that you’d gotten out
you had just climbed far enough
to at least see the light,
but here you are
[rock]bottom of the pit of despair
)
(…but you know
this could all be a trap
that pit could have a trick floor
a trap door
and you could be pulled
even more
even further
even farther
down.)
February 9, 2022
organization
is not my strong suit
and i’ve watched enough tiktoks to know
that i’m definitely not neurotypical
but in which direction?
is my extreme self-reliance on what i can remember
(with mostly successful strategies)
simply a life-long coping mechanism?
is my delving into the human condition
and socializing within characters
a masking tactic that’s been going on longer than i can remember?
or am i simply lucky enough
to have a very, very slight neuro-diversity
that doesn’t necessarily fit into either box
that my parents were kind enough not to force out of me
(or did society hit where my parents tried not to
as it hit in other ways?)
would i ever get diagnosed if i saw a ‘professional’?
almost definitely not.
but
i know my brain doesn’t work the way the ‘majority’ of brains
‘are supposed to’
so where does that leave me?
[alone?]
kipventures 