x
schencka
Poem# 13
This poem is damn good, and super-dark, and is merely a representation, a proxy expression, of what I once felt before I got some help. So, don't worry about me. I'm too obstinate to grant anyone the pleasure of my not being my whole, healthy, vibrant self. And G-d bless. --adam



On the pain of realization

Once you've flown the coop,
Dropped your hat and your keys
In G-d knows what kind of position,
And slapped someone's ass unnecessarily, you're
Meeting the pain of realization

When the dog's eyes seem just too sympathetic,
And you can't even realize that that Stevie Nicks song is in your head,
And thunder only hap-pens when it's raining...
And you heard a voice you couldn't place,
You're yet to understand the pain of realization

When the accumulated hate of years of wasted, aimless exertions stares you in the face,
When you've hurt yourself and others, and self-analyzed 'til the cows came home, with no improvement,
And raged across oceans, crushed imaginary skulls in the hopes of feeling momentarily better,
Imagined innumerable fiery deaths, endless self-destructions, pyres of tyros,
Kurt Cobain's silent corpse, and the detritus of a thousand years of sadness,
You're fleeing to the pain of realization

When you wish for just the merest forgiveness,
Yet still understand that it's not Jesus that saves, but
The being-in-ourselves that is Jesus,
And not even that helps,
Welcome to the pain of realization.
 
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