sometimes i hide inside myself
feeling like my feelings are infiltrators
unwelcome guests that i can block
out
like as long as i don’t think about a thing
there’s no possible way it can affect me
and the effects won’t come effecting
until i open my door and let them in
invite them to come, when i’m more levelheaded
and can see emotions from a more logical standpoint
but i should know better
about all of
that.
keep going
keep running
someday
you’ll outrun
the pain
and the memories
and the flashbacks
and the reminders
and when you’ve finally gotten far enough away
then
and only then
can you fully feel the feelings without fear
(at least that’s what i hear)
words are unworthy
of the emotions of tragedy
they cheapen the expanse of feeling
to two-dimensional digestion
for others’ entertainment
but words are all i have
and my brain tends to forget how to feel
in these moments anyway
so while my mind starts in on the journey
of comprehension
before my heart catches up
(which’ll be in a day or two or three
i expect)
i’ll say the only words
that keep coming up
and up again
i hope (and believe) you knew you were so loved
and say hello to Lynnette for all of us, please
and we still believe
in The Power
Of Good
is there any use
in continuing
little habits
on a day
when it feels like
everything is out of control
(but somehow you made it this way?)
~~~
big feels
little poems
tiny words
you got it
~~~
the leaves
are changing
on the tree outside–
each green
bordered with a red
literally
glowing
in the morning sun
waving to me
in a gentle breeze
and letting me know
this autumn
will be
safe
~~~
breaking up big topics
into bite-sized pieces
the poetry way
~~~
the problem
(one of them)
with having such a vast array
of works
is that i don’t know
which one
two
or three
to send in
to potentially be
published
(especially these little bois—
where
and how
do they
belong?)
~~~
self
publishing?
(it is an option)
it’s Kipmas
we say
thirteen days
of a love language
trying not to fall into the pits
of the deep despairing depression
this time of year
usually yields
but also trying not
to avoid it;
if i need to mourn
the happiness and joy
of a home full of life
that now only seems to house
(or maybe that’s just my impression)
then that’s ok.
if i need to cry
that this year feels so weird
(especially now
that it’s actually
precedented)
and there’s such simple way(s)
for folks to avoid
overwhelming an already overburdened
healthcare system,
then that’s ok.
i’m not thinking in poetry right now,
it’s not morning
(my usual time to write)
and i’m full with Finnish food
and i feel both antsy and tired
at the same time,
itching for adventure
but longing to stay home
for (possibly) ever
this time of year
is weird
and often brings up
a whole shitload of emotions
(and these last two years more than ever)
but that’s ok.
feel your feelings,
even indulge;
too much is asked of us
at this time of year;
expectations abound
and you can take a moment
or a day
or a week
or a month
to just
sit
and
feel.
(and if i need to have a total breakdown
right as i try to post this
and instead weep for hours
and back-post it
from the 26th,
then i’ll do that, too.)
went to sleep in a Mood™
woke up in a Whole Other Mood™
and i’m realizing how reliant i am on
the negative talk and self-sabotage and executive dysfunction
to truly be the blame for when things go wrong,
so when i am happy, when i do actually put forth the effort
to try to do things right,
and if circumstances just happen to breed the same outcome…
the low-key self-hatred,
the kind i can ignore away
because it’s always there
becomes loud
becomes bites with teeth
and those teeth are the “proof” from the external factors
which i know, logically, are circumstantial,
or i could have done something to change, but i literally didn’t know at the time
but damn if that bite isn’t sharp and deep
deep
deep down to my soul
till i start to believe the fanged monster
when they say
truly
no one loves you
and you are to blame
[look at all this proof]
~~~
and now we have the decision-making,
the ‘do i put this up on my site or not’-ing.
i’m truly fine;
i’m an adult, so i don’t have those crazy teen-hormones running around my brain and bloodstream
begging me to do something rash,
something stupid,
something irreversible.
and i am nothing if not an overthinker,
i can see the consequences of each and every action i might take
from here inside myself to externally to those i love
to forward moving in the future
and even back-ward looking to color the past
but that overthinking and knowing i’m too intellectual to actually do anything about anything
makes for even more frustration in the moment
there’s no outlet
no doing anything
just writing sad poetry
and waiting it all out…
so i guess
don’t take this as a plea for help
just take this in as my brain working some shit out.
~~~
just go read your own writing
maybe you’ll like yourself
one day
kipventures 