Tag Archives: inconsistency

The Waiting Room

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I had a dream the other day.

We were in a doctor’s office.

Perhaps it was a metaphor of a true check-up.

A storm was coming,

and the predictions were egregious. 

We chatted about our preparations,

and held small talk about how we were doing.

You haven’t crossed my mind in years.

Unless I’m drudging up mistakes of the past, or the love I’ve lost,

I simply don’t give you access to my mind.

You’ve already done enough damage,

and my rental has been finishing repairs.

I love the reconstruction, honestly.

I’m finally being booked at a higher price, 

the one I should’ve charged for you.

My love met me at the office and you shook his hand.

You watched us leave and I looked back.

I smiled, and could feel my hand grip his a little tighter.

The healing, the growth, the success, the unconditional love, and the value…

I have that. I did that.

Everything you once told me that I couldn’t be or couldn’t have…

here I am, and I have it all.

You’ve crept in the background, 

and don’t feel surprised,

because I saw you.

This dream granted you full visibility.

For once, we shared true transparency.

It was invigorating.

It was powerful.

After all this time, I’ve still held a small amount of pain and anger.

Not necessarily because I’m thinking of you; don’t let your ego get inflated, 

but rather the situations that involved you.

The trauma showed itself in the unexpected. 

Cruel, bent, rusty nails that just wouldn’t budge.

I finally got to tell you how I worked hard to be where I’m at today.

Incredibly hard.

I deserve this life, this love, and this healing.

I deserve to walk away with this smile.

I earned it.

I hope you’re in a similar place, truly.

I think that was the point of the dream.

I’m finally strong enough to wish you well.

54321

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I feel a detachment.

One so sharply edged, that I’m bleeding.

I feel a panic.

One so numbing, that I’m floating.

I feel a fear.

One so horrific, that I’m hiding.

I feel a confusion.

One so obliterating, that I’ve entered a delusion.

I feel an emptiness.

One so hollow, that any remaining feeling is simply the negative reverberations of my thoughts.  

–

I see a void.

Yet, it’s all consuming.

I see colors.

Yet, they all fade to a grey scale.

I see flames.

Yet, it only lingers as ash.

I see a pillow.

Yet, it provides no comfort for my head…

only anguish.

–

I hear my own echo.

It’s haunting, and there’s a crew of spirits.

I hear a slow drip.

It’s an attempt at keeping the faucets of my ego from freezing.

I hear white noise.

It’s the only way I can stay sane.

–

I smell an overpoweringly nauseating aroma.

The one that makes you ill.

The one you can’t escape.

The one that can’t be cured.

Even time has to wait.

Once you’ve inhaled the suffering, you cannot forget it.

I smell morbidity.

The one that seizes your brain.

The one that turns joy to mold.

The one that crumbles to a shady blue in your hands.

Even wine won’t pair well.

Once you’ve inhaled the doubt, it becomes your captor.

 –

I taste a bitterness,

but the longing for peace remains sweet.

Contained

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I live in the loneliest world.

Not a soul in my corner;

I can vent to no one.

The pressure is building.

When I try to have some of the air escape,

I’m faced with ridicule, criticism, and dismay.

I’m always there for others.

I always offer an ear.

But for me?

It’s the worst, I fear.

I feel minimized and neglected.

Oh no!

The wrong emotion was selected.

I am not to show concern.

I am not to disagree.

Heaven forbid!

I must bend the knee!

I’m over it;

I am done.

When those ask why I’m silent,

maybe they should look at who’s holding the gun.

I give you permission to be dismissive.

Matter of fact, I’ll be entirely submissive.

Offer no opinions,

just reassurance that you’re right!

My hands are tied behind my back.

I’ll no longer throw a fight.

I’ll live to appease;

I’ll close my eyes and no longer see

the damage being done right before me.

A puppet in your show,

I offer you control.

Say goodbye to me.

Second Star

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Why do you come back to me?

There’s a clear lack of consistency.

I try with you, and I fail.

We make plans, but to no avail… 

You raise my hopes just to shut them down.

I tell myself it’ll happen… next time around.

Why do you come back to me?

There’s a clear lack of consistency.

I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt…

just to get caught in the drought.

Here I am, always waiting for the rain…

knowing I have it all to lose, and nothing to gain.

Missing you is never easy.

Wishing now that you’d free me…

Why do you come back to me?

There’s a clear lack of consistency.

I blame my own desperation.

I blame needing validation.

Leave it to my damned imagination…

I thought you were different,

refreshing, and significant.

But why wouldn’t I? 

You overflowed me with lies.

Telling me that we had a chance;

forgetting to mention that it’s in Neverland.

You’ll never grow up, my sweet Peter Pan.

Yet here I am, still wanting to take your hand.

Second star on the right;

I’d still get lost with you, on any night.

Even though it’s hard for me to face…

the harsh reality that is our fate:

you come back just to leave me…

perhaps that is consistency.