Through the fear
Through the fire
Through deep waters
Through vile words
Through the darkness
Through misunderstanding
Through abandonment
When they leave you alone
In agony standing
Just breathe.
Tag: Mental Health
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You long oppressed; You anxious and stressed: You night walkers with glowing eyes; You precious children whose eyes have cried; You whom dwell within the corners of dark rooms misunderstood and in agony; You who have endured but hope for more; You who are listless and constantly contemplate death; You mothers who are postpartum depressed, who’s eyes cry and can’t sleep but are tired, looking into your baby’s eyes; You whom dwell on the ledge pondering the finality of a razor’s edge; You who sleep all day but wake up even more tired; You who are chronic insomniacs with eyes wired; You who seek resurrection with protruding veins and euphoric injection; The melancholic of you; You sufferers who daily drink of that bitter cup; You depressed fathers who can’t look into your children’s eyes without the shedding of tears; You who have prayed, and prayed again, with the sounds of wailing at 4 A.M. You who are reviled even by the ones who claim to love you, as they say hurtful words again and again; The distressed of you; The ones who ruminate in tormented state; You who live in hell; The poor of you who are ill but find a way still; You grandmothers who raise the children of your deceased daughters; You who are not of my flesh but are are still my brothers and sisters; You who have fought for years; You who are reading this with tears; I love you.
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From his soul he weeps.
Tears in the darkness are unseen,
But heaven hears his cries.
The wailing of white doves
Carry the song of his perpetual pain.
In eternal rain, the heaviness of his cross
Is saturated with water and dragged in mud;
The presentation of his torment
is the shedding of blood.
The earth shakes violently
From the souls trapped in misery.
Alone in desolation,
The darkness is his only witness.
It is when pain is concealed,
That the hideous scars of time
Cause horrid astonishment
When finally revealed.
The faces of the sorrowful
Upon the eyes are permanently
Seared and in the mind indelible.
In his stature he is majestic.
He dreams of reaching heaven’s gates
And riding on the wings of the angels.Antonio Vivaldi – Nisi Dominus
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If I am lost, find me;
If I am misguided, tell me;
If I stumble on my path, walk with me;
If I wallow in self doubt, encourage me;
If I am fearful, embolden me;
If I have been led astray, lead me;
If I have been dispossessed, restore me;
If I am in need, render to me;
If I cry uncontrollably, comfort me;
If I am misunderstood, lend an ear to me;
If I am depressed, uplift me;
If I suffer from anxiety, please understand me;
If I struggle with OCD, do not repudiate me;
If I battle PTSD, do not abandon me;
If I say I hate myself, tell me you love me;
If I show my vulnerability, don’t hurt me;
If I am near the edge, just talk to me;
If I am cold, wrap your arms around me;
If I lash out, please know it’s not the real me;
If I say I am sorry, please forgive me;
If you’re thinking about leaving,
Please don’t leave me. -
In unison they all removed their masks slowly
Free from the bonds of society;
En masse they took to the streets
With uncontrollable laughing, wailing and incessant screams,
Realizing uninhibited dreams to find their release;
With the hideous scars of long hidden suffering unveiled,
Pain was revealed in its rawest form;
Their faces streaming with tears, scarred and worn;
In the light, one by one they came forth, and they were beautiful.
They were so beautiful.
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If through pain strength is gained
And if through sorrow we transcend
Then I am a god. -
Sunday, Jan.3, 1993
2:02 A.M. Annapolis, Maryland
Winter.Michael’s Entry:
The tears of a sorrowful man are constant and heavy. Brown eyes look up at grey skies and hope for a better tomorrow. The tears I cry are the tears of a child’s pain held back many years. I have contended with the darkness, and still I face my fears. What is to be said of past anguish and torment left untold? In a dark room a child cried and kept his pain inside. The secrecy of the darkness when it exposes itself is hideous in its raw truth. The ugliness of the underbelly dredge up memories that anger me. Through the eyes of a child, looking at my mother I asked God why he didn’t take us together. Many have told me not to dwell on it, but often I ponder. My sadness increases daily. I am a man in a wilderness of torment seeking an oasis of peace. It is with a heavy heart that I write; I sleep when I can, but I am up most nights. It’s been two years now since Luciana has left. I miss her; but I would never tell her. I am happy she has moved on and found the love she always wanted. I could have done things better, but maybe it’s for the best. Still, I am haunted by the ‘what-ifs.’ Two nights ago I dozed off behind the wheel and almost veered into oncoming traffic; the insomnia is taking its toll. I haven’t spoken to my family in over four years and it’s been somewhat therapeutic. Unsolicited advice from people with their own lives in shambles always irritated me. I do have a dear aunt that’s close to me, but even our relationship is strained. I’ve held things in for years but no more. In fact, I am more resolute than ever to speak my mind despite the potential for hurt feelings; of course, being as respectful as I can be as man who prides himself on etiquette. I no longer have the vigor for life I once had when I was younger. The progression of events that I experienced as a child have have largely contributed to my current state.
It’s hard living life in a constant state of agony. I think what I’ve sought all these years is understanding; someone with genuine love. Granted, sometimes I haven’t been the easiest person to be with, and I’m readily willing to admit my faults. I think the harsh reality is some people are just destined to be alone; years ago I would have never come to this conclusion, but more and more I see true love as something in fairy tales and an illusion. I have been accused of thinking negatively before, so maybe I should refrain, or maybe not. I do have a lady that I’ve been talking to recently, but I hold no hope of it developing into anything more than an acquaintanceship; her name is Stephanie. She is quite attractive, and so far her personality is genteel. The medicine my physician prescribed for my anxiety and depression are no longer effective. I have an appointment next week to address my ongoing insomnia; I’m hopeful it can be resolved in the near future. Frankly I’m dead tired, but I would rather write than look up at the ceiling. These days I find myself crying more than ever. Also, I think I’ve lost my faith in religion. I stopped praying years ago because my prayers weren’t being answered; some may say it’s because I didn’t have enough faith and maybe they’re right. It’s a topic I have to revisit but don’t feel like expounding on right now.
I’m usually responsible financially but recently I have been spending excessively on things that I think will make me happy or at least grant me reprieve from the realities of life. Yesterday I spent a shitload of money on a leather jacket I didn’t need, and I don’t fucking care; it looks good on me and I like it. Fuck it. Is my wild spending some kind of symptom of a mental breakdown? Maybe, or maybe not. I don’t know why in the hell my mind keeps forcing me to think about Luciana. I don’t want to. She’s married now, with a husband and a child on the way, last I heard. It seems everyone else around me is happy, and I am condemned to a life of forlorn and perpetual pain. I have contemplated on this very prospect for some time now and still can’t seem to reach any rational conclusion. I think of the utter darkness of the void and if there is peace to be found in it. Self reflection is a good thing generally, but I tend to dwell on things, so it’s a little different for me. I want to dream beautiful dreams and travel the world with a significant other. I want to be at peace with myself and settle my thoughts long enough to get some fucking sleep. It’s snowing outside and I like seeing the snowfall under the street light near my window; it brings a certain feeling of calmness. I think I will dust off my record player and put on, Violin Sonata in G minor (Tartini) “Devil’s Trill Sonata,” which is a favorite of mine from the Baroque period. Now will also be a good time for some herbal tea; I might as well since I’m up anyway. Goodnight, or good morning rather.
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Life’s poignancy is steeped in stark reality.
To keep our sanity we shield our eyes from the underbelly.
When we cry alone, on pillows, tears are dried;
We sleep, we awake, and then again we cry.
Season after season in listless state we lie.
Born of our mother’s womb, but alone we die.
In a quest to find happiness it is hard we try;
A stranger’s face feigns happiness, but inside she dies.
On the day of that dawn, oh that beautiful dawn,
We no longer will sigh; we no longer will cry.
Until it arrives, yes until it arrives,
We await or salvation with tears in our eyes. -
At the crossroads where melancholia and sadness meet
The anguished drag heavy crosses on dark streets,
With hell’s heat beneath their feet. -
Thoughts flood in and intrude.
I must remain calm in the storm.
Torment rains down with stark reality;
I have dreamed of having peaceful dreams
But have only seen the underbelly.
Its rawness is hideous and scary.
Indeed in its presentation it is ugly.
My portion has been suffering
And I drink of that cup daily, unwillingly.
With a look of sincerity a solemn faced priest
Pulled me aside and told me:
Say 1 Our Father, 3 Hail Mary’s and 1 Glory Be.
I have sought heaven but for me are the gates open?
For long we have been suffering and hoping,
And hoping yet again.
Has the darkness become my bedfellow
And perpetual anguish my friend?
Lovers see my pain and tell me they love me,
But by the dawning of the morning light
They are gone ironically.
Understanding has only crossed my path in passing.
The spirit yearns for the substance of love
And something substantial and lasting.
About my life, I put pen to paper,
But where do I begin?
They accuse me of apostasy
And desire to tar and feather me;
Thoughts of their hypocrisy increase my anxiety.
In my lament, I remember my mother’s torment;
The nights of crying uncontrollably.
Was it somehow acquired or was it passed down to me?
In the scope of things does it matter at all?
Maybe the answers could be found in my genome
But it is in my own thoughts that I roam.
What is there to say of bitter winters
And the depressed drinking chamomile tea by the warmth of fires?
What is there to say of past loves of yesteryear who are no longer here?
The nothingness and silence of the darkness offers no solace.
Intimate Compositions 