The Yellow Brick Road Out of Wonderland
20111015 @ Saturday, October 15, 2011
I can’t think of anything
more difficult than accepting
that the first thing you’ve ever known
and believed in,
the first thing, from birth,
is all false. Have the earth
pulled away from under you.
It’s more than cutting
the proverbial umbilical cord
more than leaving the nest
in your wobbly wings
more like a contradiction
you swallowed and can’t spit out,
so you have to undo the knot
from inside you, a million times
worse than waking up after
sleeping with the enemy and
you can’t take back the night
and you have to live with yourself
and your personal effects
be surrounded by the things you bought
with the interest earned after
banking your sacrifices
and you were struck with amnesia
and don’t even know who you are.
But you have to start from somewhere,
and it starts with a purge.
Remove yourself from the wrong
you are trying to make right
and address it from a distance, not
when you’re waist-deep in it.
If it’s not you,
you can leave it.
It’s is like a demon
who feeds on your insecurities,
and burrows in
the gaps of your self-esteem,
making you hate what you love,
making you fear what
you can’t live without.
You have to get out.
Because the first thing you’ve ever wanted
was to impress her,
it was the axiom
of your life and your choices, but
you’ve almost already conquered the world
and she’s still stepping all over you.
You’ve lived your one life
taking the world more seriously
than most, intent in
finding validation,
and if no one is home,
maybe it’s in the songs on the radio,
or corporate brand slogans,
or fictional characters from Murakami novels.
But you found it.
Only God knows how, but you did.
You didn’t hear it growing up,
so now that it’s done
you should tell your own self:
you’re all you’ve worked so hard at becoming,
you just have to get it from within.
.
more difficult than accepting
that the first thing you’ve ever known
and believed in,
the first thing, from birth,
is all false. Have the earth
pulled away from under you.
It’s more than cutting
the proverbial umbilical cord
more than leaving the nest
in your wobbly wings
more like a contradiction
you swallowed and can’t spit out,
so you have to undo the knot
from inside you, a million times
worse than waking up after
sleeping with the enemy and
you can’t take back the night
and you have to live with yourself
and your personal effects
be surrounded by the things you bought
with the interest earned after
banking your sacrifices
and you were struck with amnesia
and don’t even know who you are.
But you have to start from somewhere,
and it starts with a purge.
Remove yourself from the wrong
you are trying to make right
and address it from a distance, not
when you’re waist-deep in it.
If it’s not you,
you can leave it.
It’s is like a demon
who feeds on your insecurities,
and burrows in
the gaps of your self-esteem,
making you hate what you love,
making you fear what
you can’t live without.
You have to get out.
Because the first thing you’ve ever wanted
was to impress her,
it was the axiom
of your life and your choices, but
you’ve almost already conquered the world
and she’s still stepping all over you.
You’ve lived your one life
taking the world more seriously
than most, intent in
finding validation,
and if no one is home,
maybe it’s in the songs on the radio,
or corporate brand slogans,
or fictional characters from Murakami novels.
But you found it.
Only God knows how, but you did.
You didn’t hear it growing up,
so now that it’s done
you should tell your own self:
you’re all you’ve worked so hard at becoming,
you just have to get it from within.
.
Oleander
Saturday, October 15, 2011
let’s both pretend that
all you see is all there is:
my body is healthy,
well groomed, well fed,
never mind that there are
large, purple bruises on my soul.
Because nagging is a form of
psychological abuse
and everyday I have my own brand
of struggling to survive.
I still remember the bad dreams
I had when she’d touch me.
I remember standing in front of
the school cafeteria, staring at
the door for half an hour,
having an internal shouting argument
with myself on whether I deserved lunch,
because she’d told me that morning
I was lazy and selfish and irresponsible
and girls like that didn’t deserve to eat.
I remember never being good enough.
I remember being laughed at
when I was seven and I asked her
if I was beautiful.
I remember getting my first
award and she told me
don’t be too happy, because
so many things can still go wrong.
I remember the nights I would
muffle my violent coughs with a pillow
so she could sleep in peace and not
find out I had pneumonia because
she said I was disrespecting her
every time I allowed myself to get sick.
I remember how she’d turn off the lights
and lecture me in the dark
every time I messed up
as if it disgusted her to see me cry
so I promised myself at one point
she had no right to see my tears
and I remember searching for a place
where I could be myself
and I remember learning how
to fix a schedule for my emotions.
Don’t look too close.
My body is OK, but my spirit
is having an awful day.