Tag Archives: Poetry

Did you know you’re supposed to be able to feel your face?

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I shared with my partner today that I’m starting to be able to feel my face- the way it behaves on its own accord, all the little twitches and emotions that play across it that I don’t plan on.

It’s wild. This is new to me.

I’ve always felt like some gray blob of consciousness with a dim glow, trapped in the skin of me which is hollow and full of darkness.

I can know the factual truth about muscles and bones and organs. I can even have seen them, I once got a peek inside my chest when my surgeon showed me a process picture of my top surgery.

Doesn’t matter, I’m a stupid sad little gray blob trapped in a hollow body filled with expansive darkness.

Doesn’t make sense but it’s my self concept. Trust me, I’m in therapy, and it’s ON THE LIST.

I asked my partner if it’s normal to be able to feel your face. She (surely) lied back to me that it was.

I woke up today and did things that I needed to do outside the house of my own volition, and alone. I returned pop cans. I picked up meds. I bought toilet bowl cleaner. I made phone calls. I did chores to get ahead for when my partner got home. I took care of an unpleasant post office form. I did an email I’ve been dreading.

I need you to understand that this represents a nearly unimaginable level of energy for me. I MADE PHONE CALLS.

I have wanted to kill myself since I was in the second grade. I’ve gotten better and I’ve gotten worse and I’ve gotten lists of different diagnoses and I’ve gotten tons of medical trauma and I’ve been in institutions and I’ve been to rehabs and I’ve gotten CBT and IOP and ECT and REBT and DBT and trauma informed therapy and gestalt therapy and the one thing I never did was manage to get a real remission.

There’s little tingles, little pulls of strings, an occasional stab.

I didn’t realize how dissociative I was until systems started coming back online.

I’ve been on Auvelity for only 3 days and I’m starting to feel less hollow…

A terrible time to improve

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Hope is scrappy

and

hope is nebulous.

You can think

you’ve got

your fingers

around it

and then

get the

wind knocked out

of you,

and then

ultimately

later find

that others

were holding

hope

for you.

There is,

however,

a limited

certain number

of times

that someone

can be kicked

before they

make a decision

about it.

Continuing to

get kicked

is the result

of inaction.

Maybe you

never asked

to be

in this ring.

Still gotta

make

that

decision.

invitation to semantics

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I cannot grasp 

the depth of you 

but I so 

delight 

in tasting 

the physics 

of its viscosity, 

a child 

eagerly 

pulling 

their chilled hand 

in from 

where it had been 

dancing 

on air currents 

through expressways, 

I cannot understand you 

the same way 

that a bug 

does not understand 

the 

enormous 

human 

endeavor 

of automobiles 

and highway construction 

or the change 

in the eddies 

that presents them 

face first 

with mirrored glass, 

I am temporal, 

weak, 

fallible, 

splat, 

and incapable most of all, 

incapable of 

perceiving your reality, 

try as I may 

to veil my gnostic turpitude, 

I am seen 

as I am 

and 

yet 

somehow 

unimprisoned, 

I did not 

before this 

know 

that love letters 

could be written 

by the craving 

to share 

Russian fiction, 

please keep

bringing me morsels

my darling,

 pull them up 

from the nets, 

the worthy nuggets 

most honest, 

that you sail 

the tumultuous seascape 

of your skull cage 

to collect, 

while I titter 

and bask 

and slap 

at the tide pool 

that I have access to 

and play 

at being 

a toddler philosopher 

just beginning 

to understand 

the meaning 

of wet. 

Christmas Lights

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I came in 
to work tonight 
for my dad 
at midnight, 
as I have 
been tending 
to do lately 
so the majority 
of my time 
can be free 
of Christian music 
and misgendering 
and deadnaming, 
and I saw 
that my mom 
had turned 
on the 
Christmas lights 
on a cool 
mid October 
midnight. 
I automatically smiled.
Then I appreciated 
that smile,
 and the fact 
that I could 
appreciate 
that smile, 
and how far 
I have come 
to be at peace 
with myself 
while they 
be them. 
Suddenly 
my dad 
walks in 
while I am 
writing this, 
to check on 
whether my brother 
left his office 
light on. 
Just me. 
Tapping on my phone. 
He mutters 
about the doorknob 
needing work 
and says 
his goodbyes 
and wanders 
in to bed. 
I fix the doorknob 
when he leaves. 
Sometimes 
it feels like 
all the effort 
towards a relationship 
is on my end, 
other times 
the conversations 
between us 
flow incendiary 
and the world burns 
and societal norms burns 
and spiritual standards burn 
but then on such a fundamental level 
they just don’t get me, 
they’re waiting for 
this phase to pass, 
they hope if 
they just ignore 
Halloween 
they can skip 
the demons 
visiting their house 
and head straight 
to the celebrations 
they understand 
so here we are 
hopefully lighting 
Christmas lights 
on a cool
mid October 
midnight 
and waiting 
for the demons 
to pass. 

-Rex M

Truce

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I have reached
a bit of
a stalemate
with my
neurochemicals.
They don’t
hurt me
and I don’t
hurt them.
No more
drinking
and various
self abuses.
I’ll take
my meds.
I’ll do the
sunshine thing.
I’ll even
exercise.
This gets me
to the point
where I can
exist at equilibrium
only the
faintest whispers
of the
craving of death
pounding
like a heartbeat
from the
hollow cavern
in my chest,
I feel like
this is
as close
to normal
that I may be
capable of.
I’ve made
a truce
with my
brain.
We don’t talk
as much shit
about each other
any more.
I’m learning
to remember
the love
I had for it once.
Before the
shock therapy
And the concussions
And the whole
“smacking myself
in the head when
in distress” thing.
I’ve apologized
to my hallucination goo.
I’m gentler on it now.
I hope it can forgive me.