Resolve

"An existential crisis may result from:

• The sense of being alone and isolated in the world;
• A new-found grasp or appreciation of one's mortality;
• Believing that one's life has no purpose or external meaning;
• Awareness of one's freedom and the consequences of accepting or rejecting that freedom;
• An extremely pleasurable or hurtful experience that leaves one seeking meaning;

An existential crisis is often provoked by a significant event in the person's life — marriage, separation, major loss, the death of a loved one, a life-threatening experience, a new love partner, psychoactive drug use, adult children leaving home, reaching a personally-significant age (turning 20, turning 30, turning 40, etc.), etc. Usually, it provokes the sufferer'sintrospection about personal mortality, thus revealing the psychological repression of said awareness.

When a person faces the paradox of believing his or her life is important whilst thinking that human existence is meaningless and without purpose, cognitive dissonance occurs, overcoming many innate psychological and cultural defense mechanisms.

Analogously, existentialism posits that a person can and does define the meaning and purpose of their life, and therefore must choose to resolve the crisis of existence."

Crises

"What are we even doing here?"

Burdensome

do not bare to talk with me
if i am felt as a task
i would rather be nothing
than seen as a pain in the ass.

Get It (Together)

I actually need to stop being lame and pull my shit together if not just because
something will come along, if not just because it always does

more loving, less succumbing
your friends are perfect and I'll be rather damned
if you continue punishing yourself and them
because not everything went quite as planned

in your owns hands is the chance to create a life worth it to live
keep telling myself I don't get it, knowing you get what you give



"Your life's gonna course like a history book
don't be frightened of turning the page
cause it's all same, it will always be the same"

Weekends

"The winter cold came creeping in, casting frost over any skin that I had left exposed. 
That season all I could think about was the warmth of a distant house and distant friends that I don't hear from anymore. 

Steam chased after my breath. 
It was getting cold and I was far from home, longing for a familiar touch or an old familiar smile. I haven't seen yours in a while. 

This past summer most days after work I would drive by your old place in a sick, nostalgic daze. 
Despite the heat I kept my hood up just in case so I could always hide my face, but you were never home anyway. 
I'm tired of coming back to no one. Back at home with nothing to do but spend two lengthy days locked in my room. 
Alone again on the weekends. 

It's got me worn down. It's got me torn now, between two places, and neither of them home. 
I need them more now: familiar faces so I feel less alone."

Commemorate

"I felt closer to you than you ever could have known"

Work In Progress

What would I say? I love when people ask sensitive questions, and hate when people ask insensitive ones. It still bothers me despite my efforts, when people put other's paper towels or toilet paper rolls on backwards.

I'd say that I worry that all my close friends that matter to me will continue to keep some shoddy means of keeping track, or keeping dibs on me for something like the rest of my life, and that I will only regularly be reminded and think of them. How I still worry that I would rather stumble upon a new movie trailer than be introduced to or meet a new person.

The only time I have felt any twinge of accomplishment in recent years is when I drink large quantities of black coffee. The most real ways that I receive love are empty promises, and painful private stories of someone's past being shared with only me, in confidence.

On a day-to-day basis I covertly but honestly believe that I had come to realizations that enable me from applying myself in near to everything. 
The irreversible and lasting nature of a relationship's affect on me makes me a ridiculous amount of socially cold and cautious.
I would say that I am hindered by not allowing myself to drink, smoke, or do drugs, and that it's hard to explain in a way for people to grasp, that I just do not wish to. I might be the most unconditional, and wishy-washy person you've ever met.
I am increasingly all or nothing, leaning much more towards nothing lately.

Soften

mol·li·fy/ˈmäləˌfī/

Verb:

Appease the anger or anxiety of (someone). Reduce the severity of (something); soften.

(mŏl'ə-fī') 
tr.v., -fied, -fy·ing, -fies.

1. To calm in temper or feeling; soothe. See synonyms at pacify.
2. To lessen in intensity; temper.

Verb

1.

mollify - cause to be more favorably inclined; gain the good will of; "She managed to mollify the angry customer" appease, assuage, conciliate, gentle, gruntle, lenify, pacify, placate calm, still, tranquilize, tranquillise, tranquillize, calm down, quiet, quieten, lull - make calm or still; "quiet the dragons of worry and fear"

2.	mollify - make more temperate, acceptable, or suitable by adding something else; moderate; "she tempered her criticism"

3.	mollify - make less rigid or softer

mollify [ˈmɒlɪˌfaɪ]

vb -fies, -fying, -fied (tr)

1. to pacify; soothe

2. to lessen the harshness or severity of

[from Old French mollifier, via Late Latin, from Latin mollis soft + facere to make]

mollifiable  adj

mollification  n

mollifier  n

You Found Me Waiting For You

"You found me waiting for you in a burning building
nightfall sitting quietly like learning children 
violence from the sky that sings a serenade 
mountains were an insufficient barricade
frozen solid whispering our pities
as we stood in front of sinks in different cities
dirty blood and cruelties all drained away
and finally the day we met we rained all day
going blind we had no words in which to choke
half-asleep sometimes our thoughts turned into smoke
trying not not fly my bones were sedentary  
but the blinding light inside was legendary
a piece of broken glass for those that doubt us
it's too late now, it's gone, the last train left without us
accidentally once I touched the hidden depths
and found you waiting for me on the prison steps
temporary skeleton turned cold and steel
lying in a pile in a golden field
rock-a-bye the endless days turn into vapor
catching table cigarettes and writing paper
nights we ghost around the empty room in silence
crazy days we tear apart with crimson violence
scented gently fallen snow that never lingers
finding where it hurts inside with clever fingers
dented armor, dirty faces, hectic wishes
staying warm and wild with electric kisses
warning of the coming storm and then the wind died
drew a picture of a woman on my inside
sticks and stones were an antenna broken limb
murmur tender murder teach me how to swim
the agony of animals and signals came
four of hands, a two of hearts, a single flame
I knew you'd be the death of me
I knew you'd be the death of me
I knew you'd be the death of me
I knew you'd be the death of me"

I Know

"I KNOW YOU WITNESSED MY DECLINE

YOU USED TO PUSH BACK THE DARKNESS LIKE A FLOODLIGHT"

All Things Considered And Consistent

i keep consistently hitting rock bottom, just waiting to get up, it's been years with less product and progress than reflection and reduct, it's a crass realization, that there is nowhere you belong and nothing you can do, and i wish you found me serious when opened up enough and told you. well will i always be, so wildly, disappointed with how it all was meant to play out? the answer is yes, i guess, until i learn to live without the things i was meant to live without.
the problem is the constant in the equations, even with the variables so much alike, there's a problem to be solved with increasing complexity, oh how its darkness weighs heavy this time of night.
washed up, worn out, tired and all used up, not one trick left up my sleeve, and if i have such a permanence incrusted on this same feeling, why is it i stay here with such an incapability to be happy?
and like a sponge, i will choose to soak up anything, in the worst way, even if it be this cold winter rain, why press forward in a story with its ending told, all of this eternally being so the same? i feel that intrepidly, in my heart of hearts, and especially these days, coincidentally it is in fact, itself the certain bane.

These Streets They're Just Dead Ends

"So I won't ever be happy again
Well, it seems you too
See a painful blue
When you stare into the sky
You could never understand
The motion of a hand waving you goodbye

And on a grassy hill
the lion will
lay down with the lamb
And I won't ever be lonely again
No, no, no, no, no
But until that time
I think I had better find
some disbelief to suspend
Cause I don't want to feel like this again"

The Worst

"And.

The worst of the wildlife wears clothes and can pray and

the worry, the wonder, for three meals a day.

Only death unimpeded, not slowing its pace,

Brings that petty, old worry and wonder away."

Familiar And Safe

Inside of my car I was so truly happy to be reunited with it, flooded with memories past and all the times we had experienced together. My car seemed like the only remaining thing, as it was, that had stayed with me from the good times ago. It is the singular thing that made it through it until now, besides, of course myself, but I haven't been liking that very much lately.

And Then I Woke Up

i hung my laundry outside of 
the front of your house
not dirty
but soused, and wrinkled
you did not notice
you didn't even notice it was there
you never came outside
i draped it there
i snatched it back
i never found out if it ever dried out

Muse

                    I like museums because they are quiet and thought provoking. Everything else is varying degrees of upsetting.

Just Because

" J u s t b e c a u s e y o u d o n t u n d e r s t a n d , i t d o e s n t m e a n i t i s n t s o . "

More And Better

""

Maybe I Won't Be Cheap Forever

Let me playcater to your every need, be the rug you walk on that I'm sweeping it all under. You do what you estimate you're worth.

His Only Solace

""

A Suitable Goodbye

"I had to change the combination to the safe
Hide it all behind a wall let people wait
And never trust a heart that is so bent it can't break"

His Name Is Different

if I could only find and pinpoint the moment when I changed from looking at things for what they are to what they are now, or are similar.
As he asks, in the same voice, "did your water go down the wrong pipe?"
I wasn't choking, while I said yes, 


I was trying to decipher whether or not he would say that.

A Reflection

"Now I know a disease that these doctors can't treat. You contract on the day you accept all you see Is a mirror and a mirror is all it can be. A reflection of something we're missing.  

And language just happened. It was never planned. And it's inadequate to describe where I am In the room of my house where the light's never been Waiting for this day to end. "

I Walked Into The Woods

 "I felt lost and found with every step I took."

If I Go

Let me go quietly. All I ever wanted was silence.

Can't Stay Away

Replace a few names and you can relive the same situation 
more times than you can imagine.


  "A blush only reminds me how blood
  is under the surface of everything."

Faint Hearted

faint of heart

Fig. people who are squeamish; someone who is sickened or disturbed by unpleasantness or challenge.

Adj.

1.

faint-hearted - lacking conviction or boldness or courage;

It was felt that the heart was the seat of emotions and being faint of heart meant you lacked bravery and was easily overcome by emotions

I Am Nothing On My Own

"What are your vices?"

If I could just have one night absent of excruciating dreams.


And just like it, it has no clear beginning or end.

Fairness

If there is a god, he is determined to make certain that in spite of my attachment to my earnest and endearing notions of exemption of verbal abusiveness for those kind cowards so undeserving of violence in any form or manner, I learn my lessons in fairness firsthand. This heeds strongly until all ideas of injust defilement are beaten out of me, and following, my quiet prospect and avidity that all overcome torment will be rewarded, and counterbalanced by then much due unfaltering kindness, delicacy, and comprehension, by god's good integrity.

Impervious

my vision is clouded now with fakes and liars, petty hardships and regret
remember when you told me that you had eyes just for me, and I was the only honest one left?

home is where your heart is, and I drive by on occasion just to feel a tiny spark of anything at all.

fingers crossed this journey is a little more than just a guilt trip. you weren't along for the ride, but I thoughtfully brought your baggage just in case.

I still feel your presence in cased in all the sweet mushy soft spots, and scathing brooding darkness that presses why I'd still exist.

someone's telling me I just might die after this, and should find it appropriate if you read my letter, and didn't feel a word of this.

whether it's a circle or a spiral,
I know how this plays out.

Swimming Through Crocodile Tears

I dislike displaying that I am in truth a blubbering baby into everyone's face all of the time. I thank heavens for those who make my feet feel as though they are touching the earth, even for a little.

Here I Am, But Mostly Then

Post-mortem depression.

Madeshift

I've walked one hundred miles
in faulty shoes that you created
I don't blame you,
knowing(ingly) I made the strangeness
that hung high over everything
and that induced it
to be makeshift
but I madeshift
it
all results then were shoddy
of everything we produced
like all the tools you gave me
to walk away, from you
all things except
the happiness it made
me
so I did everything for you
like turn my cheek
the ones you made
just like all of my imperfections
something bearable

created by a god
gone lazy
and gave us some things
(deservingly) makeshift
but our skin was bearable
when someone else made it so;
liked it so much
I guess my praise just lasted
without reassurance or renewal
(you know it's still here
inside of me)
yours is expired,
and very much gone

Grotesque

It works like a dream catcher.



I was dreaming, and you walked silent and effortlessly into your house, of course I am there as well, since I am asleep. I struggle to attempt to meet your nonchalance in our conversing, it's not difficult to tell who's winning. There was a funeral I was attending, which is my sole reason for being in your living room, a place that could only be less comprehensible to you for me to be in real life. I tell you we are leaving, though in your presence all those who surround become less than shadows I cannot even see.
Stripped naked of all that comforts and conceals me, you left, and I looked at myself straight in the mirror, and hated that person, and everything that was, if I was part of it.

Like Dipping The Brush Back

""

And I Don't Mean Any Of This

It was the kind of love that made your mouth let out an unfamiliar noise, made a flurry in your chest, but not a sweet kind, the indescribable kind, you do not want to feel again. It made your fingers tremble and shake, and your eyes forget how to water and cry and let this feeling out, so it squeezed it in, deeply. You take that feeling and keep it at the root, core of your being, and you hope maybe that was the last time, but you know it isn't, it is triggered, not often, but it is. It's brought upon by possibly pictures, or lyrics, scents, places, or out of context memories that deserve context, more than you wish they would be forgotten. And I know that feeling, a love that is the control, for all other feelings, just mere experiences to contrast that one feeling. The upsetting kind, that makes your chest feel trapped inside itself, and your stomach twist into knots, tied, on fingers, sworn never to forget, those drastically out of place recollections, and feelings. Plucking tender chords like flower petals, and back and forth, it will or it won't, and one day you twang something dark enough. You didn't mean to, but the induced sound was so harsh and violent it even shook you, to that core that was already filled with notions so intimate that they had only been said one time, then never again. The vibrations, blinded, deafened and defeated. Or perhaps you just weren't listening correctly, it's so simplistic, to hear incorrect, in mutually connective silence. It's so easy for it to be one-sided, when your innermost coveted memories, are honestly varied from theirs, even sometimes clash and contradict. It was one way, and then another, until someone doesn't want to hear that sound anymore, and leaves it, with the other to hear for all eternity, seemingly willingly, and it rings out so raw and aching, so private and personal, makes you conclusively wonder, if they ever even felt it. 
Felt it within themselves, grabbing at a bruised and swollen chest piece, not protecting, but barred to be healed, but it clasped, double-fisted, and never let go and never stopped, holding, like the ringing inside one's head. This never occurred.

I miss the theater every day.

Our Silence

"I stood in the doorway and tried to maintain my end of our silence. In truth I had not yet learned how to hate anyone but my parents. 
I was actually just standing there in love.
I was not even really standing; if she had walked away suddenly, I would have fallen."

Ripping Pages

"I accidentally hurt myself with my own body, as if I were two clumsy people fighting. I held onto somethings too tightly, ripping pages as I turned them, and let go of things too suddenly, plates, breaking them."

I Dread The Night

"When the sun became unusually high and bright, or when it sank, especially when it sank

far below the hills and I felt something similarly bright falling down inside me."

Seal The Spiel

I have realized something somewhat profound. Maybe it isn't profound, really, but it is relative and also at very least, useful. I watch the people in my life, I mostly listen, I talk a lot, but wait a good amount too. What I was thinking is that I have some bad friends, some friends whom are not correct in anyway as a friend to me. I was realizing that I have some spectacular and fantastic friends, who are patient and forgiving, whether only I see it as that or not. But what I see today is that the tiny gestures, when stable, and in the scheme of the big picture, or more substantial and kind than any action or even words that are all I could ever ask for. Because who they are coming from is a person who is not soon to be hurtful or flighty, but steady and understanding. You cannot each time go for the fantastic and impractical, I believe that someone apologizing honestly for maybe something as trivial and mundane as a food allergy, sorry that we had to get cashews on the side and no soy sauce, is far more impacting and important, meaningful and lasting, than say such a personal and intimate bonding conversation or epic fleeting moment. It's good to know what you want from someone or something, because mistakingly you could go for what you desire and crave, which is dangerous and terrible, really. I don't want a sad remoresful, regret-ridden love, maybe someone better would. be practical and true. Don't go for beautifully brass, and deeply and brutally specific. Don't dub this real or true when it's inconsistent and it's everyone, blind selfishness, and countless humans just putting this all a notch below inebriation. Exhilarating is not worth it, and not everything should be chalked up to learning, or forgiving. Cut ties with all which makes you feel worthless, and full of notions so deep seeded perhaps they are better off never again in the light of day. I did learn that people will not apologize for the things they do not feel sorry for. I don't necessarily have to feel sorry for everything I have ever felt or done.
 These are fruitless and wasteful company for me, not worthy of my empathy and worship, my sorrow.

"She never inquired, but she never recoiled, either. That's a quality I look for in a person, not recoiling."

I Rise

 "I looked up at the sky just to see what it felt like. I pretended like I was pausing before telling him about the secret feeling of joy I hide in my chest, waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to notice that I rise each morning, seemingly with nothing to live for, but I do rise."

  "I pressed my lips against his ear and whispered again, it's not your fault. Perhaps this was really the only thing I had ever wanted to say to anyone, or be told."

It's All Happened And A While Ago

Still trying (or at very least wishing) to shake this feeling superfluous to linger onward.

This cloud's silver lining is glistening,
but the insides are dark, troubled and writhing.

I thought that there'd be anything at all left being this residual. But it was too long a fall from such a high pedestal.

"See when you put a shell to your ear, it is not the sound of crashing waves
that you’re hearing. It’s the amplified current of your own bloodstream
It was your self-pulse that created that post-human illusion of me. Your
tireless heart pumping out an ocean of lies and I foolishly tried filling
impossible shoes resulting in my stumbling as I fell into the trap of making
a woman my element. Now I just can’t get comfortable being out of you…"

You Were

""

Second City Same Slippery Slopes

Christmas tree corpses.

No one was even looking into my eyes when they said that
whispering will surely cause you more hurt.

I like when people say it was nice to meet you, but anything further will be hard to hear.

If your stare is fixated on one singular thing for long enough, it will eventually get blurry.

Everyone will wait a lifetime for a person to tell them that they are worth more than what it has all been, not just that they think it.

Wrecked

Some things die and fade to absolutely nothing. "But you're still you because they still happened."

He Said I Am A Burden In My Head

could see it right there on my face
each dark swollen ball and chain
the weight of my sorrow
humiliated just by the looks of it
living proof that sleep and time
does not heal all wounds
I cried by your side for hours
until the air dried my pathetic streams
that turned everything in my face
to wet water and everything in my
heart to cold ice
the dryness was tight and
made me feel weathered
but it didn't feel old
it felt young, infant even
but not a clean slate
as much as losing everything I felt
I once had but never did
and maybe you could see that
as I looked away
and as the sun rose you said
you cannot chose the things
that make you sad
everything, everything I never even ever had

Good.

                 Good intentions have never gotten me anywhere.

Like This

“I say, “You’re nothing. You’re average. You’re an ordinary, average, fat piece of shit. You have no self-control! You’re a stupid, fat, disgusting dyke. You ugly, stupid, bitch!” As I reach the bathroom and wipe away the last of my tears, I’m alarmed by the silence; the voice has stopped. When it’s quiet in my head like this, that’s when the voice doesn’t need to tell me how pathetic I am. I know it in the deepest part of me. When it’s quiet like this, that’s when I truly hate myself.”