quiet the mind
just enough to hear the important thoughts/
the creative thoughts/
the thoughts that are often drowned out
by anxiety rambling
and existential depression blues
there may be creative moments
inside those diatribes
but i’ve heard enough of them to know —
it’s getting past them
that the true me
lies
[in truth]
i don’t know how to stop my kip
from staring at their phone
reading the terrible news
and feeling worse
and worse
and worse
as the hours go by
because
if left to my own devices
i would stare at my phone
and watch videos of
on the ground tragedies
and feel worse
and worse
and worse
as the hours go by
and neither of us feeling worse
will change the things happening
halfway across the world
or right in our own backyard
we need to fill our cups
and have the hope
and energy
to put forth change
that will help
others
and ourselves
but
how
how
how
when everything feels so important
and hopeless
in the palms of our
hands?
create a chaos demon in your head
and maybe the anxiety you feel
on a daily basis
will have some sort of
reason for existing
[maybe]
how do i tell
tomorrow’s me
to just go for something
without shaming
yesterday’s me
for not?
[how?]
[how?]
[how?]
pain
and depression
are linked for me,
for i can stand
a great deal of each
but the moment it/i reach
a breaking point
a moment when the pain is too unbearable
a moment when my thoughts get too dark
even for my somber self,
a moment when i feel at the brink of too muchness
and nothingness
that is exactly when the physical and mental pain
fades
and i am left feeling so silly
for wondering if
now
was the moment i’d give in
and just
die
so much happened yesterday
and i
didn’t even poem about it
[yet]
~~~
{trigger warning: suicidal ideation, mention of eating disorders}
my overanalytic brain
that runs through every possibility
that made a whole “pro & con” list
on which eating disorder
to give myself
is probably the same thing
that has saved me
from actually killing myself
every time i’ve gotten close
in these
ideations
~~~
distracted
and distractable
and not what i wanted
from my day at home
preparing to do things
i should be doing
should have done
days
weeks
months
ago
but am i just going to
nap
again
until it’s time to leave
again?
again?
again?
grasp my flyaways
like reins
and maybe we can all escape
my own
brain
once again i’m
writing in my bed while i
feel a little dread from
the world around me but
my cat is purring and
my dog is sighing and
my kip is working and
i suppose i’ll give tomorrow a go
so
i woke up at 4:45
and played the game of
“what will put me back to sleep”
because my brain was too awake with
anxiety
so i learned some french
and sign language
and cuddled my kip and my puppy
and stared at a crossword puzzle
and the internet
and even tried
just breathing
but
by 5:35
i was still in my too-awake-era
and kip wanted to get up anyway
so we both placed some clothes on our bodies
and i bundled up with the dog on a walk
and fed both animals
and sat down to write
and now it’s just past 6:30 am
and it feels strange to stare at the outside
pitch black
and think about how i’ve been awake already
for almost two hours
but i suppose that’s what happens
when stress brain just won’t
turn
off
jazz
big
full
jazz
sweet
funky
jazz
reminds me of nola
reminds me of halloween
reminds me of the 1920’s
reminds me of phryne fisher
reminds me of a time and a place and a storyline
when, maybe, i’d have wanted to be alive
kipventures 