Posted on by mindlovemisery · 2 Comments

Obsessed

I have been alternating between obsession and despair.

Right now I am obsessed with the the Sims 4. I have probably been playing like 12 hours a day. I have created characters of Gods I work with, characters from television, games and books and even a couple handfuls of my own.

Right now my character (a representation of myself) is married with Xzar from Baldur’s Gate. A mad, chaotic evil mage. Anyhow he literally pisses everyone off in game but is actually super loving to my character and never cheats which is an anomaly. I don’t play him myself and he’s initiated much of the relationship. So that’s pretty much my love life just Sims.

I feel like my therapist is on a deadline and ignores anything weird I say but is generally nice.

They built a larger daycare which nullified my job. I am currently subbing at a daycare where everyone is super nice. For a while I thought I would be jobless but my boss found a new placement thankfully.

I have not written much though I in my previous obsessional stage I wrote a book. A whole book. A fictional novel but I still need to clean that up. Unfortunately I am driven by obsession and I am not obsessed with that right now.

I dreamt I even met Xzar and then had some weird creepy dream about being surrounded by bees and I felt this bizarre full body low level vibration and weird gravity last night.

Also I have asthma. My breathing had been getting worse and worse and now I know.

Vision is also getting worse.

Posted on by mindlovemisery

I Eat

Everything that you are
erupts with the utmost gentleness
underneath my winter skin.
All arms and tender lips,
you find passage and purchase
in the spoiled sacrifice of my body—
and if I could wear you
but for a moment,
I think I would feel something
too fragile to hammer into words.

Your tongue could ride roughshod over my nerves,
and you wouldn’t need
to say anything to mean it—
and you must mean it
to drown between the crucible of my bones.

I want to carry the full weight of you
on my shoulders, to bend and break
beneath the rapacious wraiths
of my overly human, overly imperfect heart.

I am counting on you
to hold me underneath
the surface until my lungs cry out,
until I am just as real as you are—
and nothing is real—until it hurts
just a little.

Don’t let fear calibrate me.
I don’t want to bypass the cost
of loving you.
I want to go mad with hunger,
to tear and to scar and to surrender
each and every time you
press your soul against mine.

I am needy, needy, needy.
Whatever you give to me,
I will eat—and the more I eat,
the more I eat.
Desire makes one repulsive
and irresistible,
and I am all sex,
all fire, all circumstance and catastrophe
in the wellspring of your arms.

Tell me not that you love me,
but that you will devour me—
every flaw, every miracle,
every wide-mouthed, side-lying smile—
until I unravel the lies that isolate me.

Posted on by mindlovemisery

Ruin Me

Whispers of doubt
carve out pieces of my heart—
red and succulent,
they drip to keep time.

One, two, three—
a friend’s jealousy
could destroy us,
could destroy me
specifically.

What do you care anyway?
Do you care, anyway?

I want to know
by what madness
you occupy my heart.
I want to know
the precise taboo
I need to break
in order to let you
into my body,
into the cold, biting stream
of my consciousness.

I am full of lies
and a hunger
that scrapes bone
and crushes even the most noble intentions
to a pestilent powder.

I will go out with a shriek,
and the whole of my meager world
will collapse upon itself.
This is the true meaning of a grave:
pushing the human shape
into a dirty rectangle
and claiming it sacred.

I am not holy.
I am not even good.
I want to know you
until it kills me—
and it probably will,
kill me in the end.

By her words you are inaccessible,
a cherished delusion.
But does she see you
crawling across my skin in the dark?
Does she know that you
call me priestess—
that you claim and maim
and maybe even love me
just a little?

Does she?!
Does she?!

Do you tell her everything,
or do you merely stir
the muddy waters
of my provocations and omissions?

I am terrible with want.
I am curious beyond measure.
My heart will ruin me.

Ruin me.
Ruin me.

Posted on by mindlovemisery

It Lives

Why not ingest?
The fruit is ripe—
it bursts open,
viscous and purple-red.
Drink, and be taken
by the windows
that expand the mind.

A yawn that sparks rebellion,
a howl that tears the smile
and shatters the zeitgeist.
Fire burns without leaving an edge,
and we are all ashes at the end.

Wear me if you dare,
bathe in my blood,
in my heathen appetites.
Crawl across my flesh—
a consecration, a communion
of scars and razor-sharp reflexes.

What is flesh if not a bridge?
What could be mundane about a touch
that crystallizes into a heart,
only to fracture again and again
with each undulating milestone?

Unmoor me in the act of love—
in the brutality and sanctity
of a mutual cataclysm.
We rise like a crescendo.
And there is no end to the ways
I could invade your mind.
But it’s your soul
that wraps itself around me.

Wherever the mind breaks,
there is a surge of genius.
And if you like, I could break you.
I could pull on your indolent tides.
I could make you rage
until all that remains of you
is the storm.

There is violence in your smile,
in the kiss that inebriates,
in the plucking of nerves.
You are not merely an instrument—
but the whole fucking symphony.
Let me play you,
while we dream each other into being.
And this is what it is to be a god:
to exist beyond time,
to be both creatrix
and the perfect monstrosity
of a sovereign chorus.

Make of me what you will.
Eat of me as it pleases you.
For it is not enough to say:
you were here, you reigned, you expletive deleted.
Say only this: “I am…”
For you are everything—
and you have only to look behind
your eyes to see that the truth
is just another means to console oneself.

It’s all lies. All mystery.
If it lives—it LIVES.
And whoever said the goal
was to achieve perfect stasis?

Your voice darkens to a growl,
the demon within—ruthlessly gorgeous.
Let it possess you,
dirty your mind,
derange your senses.
And in the final act,
music will be to you as air,
and you will taste
the salt of my seed,
and sow it into your marrow.

Posted on by mindlovemisery

Gold

Drink of my blood
the south node,
the fount of chaos.
You will find nothing
between my ribs
that will not excite you.
All is life, all is love.
Do not ask a blind man
to speak of what he sees.
Meet him in the shadows,
in the pitiless dark,
in the abyss—
for therein lies cohesion.

We are broken
in the vital spaces.
Wholeness is all parts
painted with the gold
of awareness.
If you surrender
to madness,
you will find the truth
of the stars—
the truth the gods
only pretend to know.

All that we can touch
is illusion, a game
where all the pieces are red
and the rules are a kind of tourniquet.
What holds can also deaden;
a clenched hand
is still a weapon,
no matter the intention that enfolds it.

You could give me everything,
and I would still ask for more—
what you are,
what you were,
what you will be.
I will hunt all the hearts inside you,
not to possess,
but to derange.
For nothing holy is ever truly fixed;
dogma cannot hold it.

Dogma. Dog man. Dog mouth—
smiling like a sickle
in the depths
of an inexhaustible night.

Let me exhume you—
every piece, every particle, every principle.
What can change the nature of a man?
Well—
first, you have to fuck him senseless.
Then you’ve got to feed him
the dirt and shit upon which he built his garden.
Then you’ve got to burn it down
and cover it with blood and piss.

There is a price for the unmaking of a man,
and a price
for his retelling.
Any man can be a story—
but not all can be a universe.

Rip out my tongue,
if you must know—
but expect to choke
before you swallow.

Sew yourself
to my thighs,
to my monument,
and rise with me like
a wolf inveigled by moonlight.

Posted on by mindlovemisery

Kiss Me

Come closer
breathe my breath,
tear it asunder
with your thunderous appetite.
Kiss me
until I can’t speak.
Kiss me
until I drink,
until I swallow
the essence of you.

Posted on by mindlovemisery · 2 Comments

Found Poem

My heart slinks
from my left breast
to my left hip,
a nervous captive,
a single red bow shifting
with each nervous jolt.

I have forgotten the air holes.
Feeling very much alone,
I press a red mouth
to your vacant, watchful smile,
and with one lonely shudder,
I rise—guts and all—
to collect myself elsewhere.

The clouds shift,
needles of light
hang askew in the brittle black sky.
It’s too late in the day
to create noise.
I will take my stand elsewhere.

Blood stains my fingers.
My heart gulps like a sad fish.
I swallow her again and again.
She is strong, her will heroic—
I starve her with hope and horror.

Her rhythmic thrumming,
like a rusted swing:
up and down,
over the post,
through the eye of a needle.
She is the color of hunger.
She is all tied up.

–

Due to computer issues I lost this poem. I did not save it and when I brought Libra Office up there was no option to recover it. Since then I have opened and closed Libra Office numerous times and recovered other documents so imagine my surprise when months later it just pops up and not through any recovery I initiated either. Where it went and how it returned I have no idea lol

Posted on by mindlovemisery · 3 Comments

Free Flow?

I am trying to build up to automatic writing by writing uncensored and nonstop for 10 minutes. I have only had the briefest moments I guess of a trance in some of my attempts. My best attempt was with my eyes closed so I will have to revisit that method. Obviously I have corrected some spelling errors afterwards so it can be read.

Here is just an example


Claw out my eyes but do not look upon me with your dirty windows. I am vacant as a blue sky and littered with butterflies and stars. Do not oppose me because if you do I will reach through you to the other side of your smile and uproot your petty pockets. Is it so wrong to be wrong? To taste distress and know it not as ice but as a fire so stark it burns through every layer of your humanity. I am not only coal but the diamond inside. Have you seen the bluejays today? They have something to say and they have nothing but pomegranates with which to speak it. I have dreamt of the cat, the wise one, the misty-furred orange one that speaks of compassion. I have made myself wicked, I have twisted myself in knots just to understand the nature of my mind, just to make the rest of the world good and just and kind because I can not live in a world of predators, a world of claws and teeth. I think you will find the cabinets quite empty, empty but righteous for they know the weight of what they carry. They know that potential is not in the filling up but the flow of passion and space. I wonder why I cannot remember names or faces? Where do people go when I am not observing them? Do they make a sound? Do they live or do they stare into spoons at their own warped reflections? Can you hand me the potatoes and do it less passive aggressively this time for I have found that I cannot stand hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is ultra violence, ultra violet, pure hell. I wonder why I must lay down again and again in order to live. I can’t stop the dreams from pouring into me. Goats who can talk. Goats of knowing. Goats of virtue and vice. Goats that see in leagues rather than miles for they are profound. I wish that I were stronger, less timid, less devil’s advocate with all the misery that that implies. I hate you. Not you specifically but society and all that we’ve killed just for the sake of walking around dead. It is necromancy for sure. Necromancy.

Posted on by mindlovemisery

Exalted

The fire in my belly hisses
like a cornered serpent.
What I want is not just
an admission of hunger—
it’s a way of life.

My nerves are your instrument,
my heart, your refuge.
And if you love me, promise
you won’t be the first to die.
I cannot bear the silence,
the sterility, the cold, fixed gaze
of a day you do not enter.

Hang over me,
crown of stars, exalted aurora.
Linger in my hollows like tears—
and if you dare,
consecrate me.

You know I adore you—
the you that eats through my hours
like a moth
through a wedding dress.
I want to wear your touch
so close to my heart
that it rips out the stitches.