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cracks

It doesn’t really get better from the last entry. If anything, it gets worse. Admittedly I’ve finished psych, got a fantastic review, and a great time, etc, but I think it’s torn completely through the barriers I use to keep myself functioning. There are a lot of jagged edges and scars I’d forgotten or buried and I just can’t fucking deal with them right now, and they’re driving me insane.

I’ve been on wrapup this week, doing the hardcore revision etc. A friend asked how I was feeling, and I told her I was feeling “labile as fuck” – by which I mean fluctuating like crazy. I’m feeling almost bipolar, and am skittering from mood state to mood state like a frog on a hot rock.

I almost burst into tears driving home from the university tonight.

I feel almost completely overwhelmed.

I’m feeling a mix of wound as crazy as all hell controlled and like I’m about to blurt out incredibly insane secret-style things to random strangers.

I feel… rudderless.

I’ve opened up and I can’t stop it all from just bubbling through the cracks. Tonight I had the weirdest experience of being told “Smile! I want to see you smile,” while said interlocuter wagged a finger at me.

I laughed briefly – but I couldn’t smile outside of the momentary humour. Another friend in the room asked if it was uni, or what. I said that it wasn’t just uni – it was kinda life.

I’m not typically an optimist about myself. For other people I can slip that mask on, and I do, but I can’t lie on the inside forever. I just can’t find a reason anymore, not a reason for me. There’s always reasons involving others, and they are wonderful and special and important but over a dozen times today, I just found myself asking “why?” over and over again.

I need a shitload more wallpaper.

 

-Andiyar

with you

I was going to do a proper post tonight, but I’m afraid it would teeter from one emotional extreme to another and might become just a little nonsensical, a little too revealing, and might end up needing to be edited-the-hell-out-of in any case. I think I might need to process a few things first, maybe run them through my paper journal instead – sorry dear fans, but I do keep a slightly more private and analogue one of these. I love you all, but I’m just a little private about some details.

Instead, I’m going to fulfil my previous post’s conclusions and put up some poetry. These are the first seven in a longform sequence that is underway; longform in that it’s a multiplicity, not that the poems themselves are long, they are more short vignettes. Anyway – enjoy, and feedback if you please.

 

conversations with You

 

#1

You know, I wanted to talk
about angels and angles and
verdigris summertime,

but you’re busy I guess and
I’m not the best at talking anyway.

I’ll take my topic and just
cogitate soundless but guilt
makes me hopeless yet tell of
happiness, I hope.

 

#2

It’s a letter from me:
starts with Dear and
ends with love I’m above
the line but here’s a piece
of bluegrass; cup it in
your hands, don’t stand but
bite the chill,
now wake.

 

#3

The pillow’s empty and flat
but your impression’s still there
in dreamtime,
liquid chocolate glitters and
gleams over a smile of
endearment.

I endure but I’m alone
and you’re not, it
doesn’t hurt
but it drags me to
the floor,
on carpet of lilac
I can taste perfumed
memories;
they aren’t true.

 

#4

Moonbeam catcher, you whisper,
fists close on tempted shadow;
I open my eyes &
stare at whitened glare.

Breathe deep with fellowship,
a squeezed shoulder’s a sign
& so’s a twinkling iris-
perhaps others notice what
we haven’t.

Absent I’m fondness
& I convince myself it’s false
but I close my eyes and you’re there;
a mental polaroid
without me in frame.

 

#5

Lipstick stains cream
here’s a tissue, now
let’s talk – no?

It’s a construct of self
& I think you’re listening
but it’s just me;
a game of one,
doubles partner not found.

I’d call but I’m afraid
I’d answer it,
reality creeping in
and helping me
drown.

 

#6

I’m sure this time,
as you approach with
lapis-lazuli smiles,
clothed in powdered turquoise silk,
I was asleep.

I don’t care,
as most compassion and affection
are everclear in sheen,
while eyelids flicker and flutter
& I smile back.

When I wake you’ve gone
into dreamscape
but my lips curve upwards
as oxytocin flows down muscle
like satin,
I’ve woken early
but whole.

 

#7

It’s not first sight nor
second third fourth
but cumulation,
& when it hits it’s a
cannon to the soul of
desperate-tinged shock.

Sometimes the trip heralds the fall,
but I’ve been stumbling so long
I’m unsteady,
& there’s no pride to lose
or gain
or hope to draw down
without.

 

Please note, none of them are ‘final’, they are all ‘first pass’ or ‘second pass’ at best, but there’s a rawness to them that I’m sort of enjoying when I reread – enjoying, and despairing.

Ah, writing. My god, do I fucking love hate loathe respect despair enjoy it.

 

-Andiyar

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