Wastelands

By Siobhan on December 20, 2013

Empty.

This is

empty.

It stares back at you and it breathes the word ‘over’
over and over again until you can’t really think straight.

Think straight think straight…is there even such a thing as thinking straight?
Surely every thought I ever pluck form my mind
is one with a myriad of thoughtfeelings
patterned like a spinningweb spider intricate dreams of memory?

Because the thing is I have so many tugs of war inside of me
So many armies fighting different causes

But this…this one is gaining force using different tactics
stroking my me-chemicals to sleep with folklorelogic

That I don’t really WANT THEM.

All my life I have been …giver…I have been fall and I’ll catch you
scraped knee and I nurse you
call my name I come a running
no cracks under pressure pot boiling point,
walking circles with you
chasing men who I love tearing down through horror houses of pains where all our reflections are simply laughing at us

all my life I have tried to put any other person first

while

My own starts, middles, ends dreams, unfinished works of what, floating, stagnating
Algae growing over pools of ideas
turning puddles
turning
going…going….gone

So NO I don’t want THEM. Little sticky hands asking me to once more give up all I ever could be?

Fuck this idea of what I should be
I want to dive headfirst into a waterfall of ME…
FALL ASLEEP ON A TRAIN AND END UP HOMELESS,
TEETERING ON THE LADDER OF THE EDGE OF THE WORLD
run away from anyone with a megaphone
match my heart beat to the tidal waves
and spend at least 4 years learning how to walk backwards convincingly…

That’s what I want.
That’s what I want.

But I know it’s folklore logic to sooth the mechemicals to sleep.

Because I can’t hide from this feeling of empty every month when I bleed myself out.
I can’t hide from the pain burn heavy hurt coming from somewhere so deep I have yet to even acknowledge it’s existence
I can’t hide from the fact that every atom in my being is craving the need to multiply.

I can’t hide from the icyfear growing
chilling my being a little more showing
every time I see minus sign tiny
tests stacked up in scores and dozens behind me

My friends think I am scared of the plus
and I play along with this game because
I am pro choice…though it’s my choice to mourn what was taken from me before it was born.

I can’t hide from the terror that that was my chance
now it’s over and life is just this singular dance

I cant hide from me. I can’t hide from me. I can’t hide from me…

But so what I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t?
I’m all nailed up in a box of won’t?

Time is a man made concept I guess
because I don’t know any man under this kind of STRESS

I have exactly six years TO GET MY LIVING DONE IN
BEFORE I TURN MYSELF INTO A BABY OVEN

So do I? Or don’t I?
Will I
or won’t I?

Do I have utopia in my dna?
The many hand parenting communal way
Where all of us get to live out our dreams
and raise our babies to know what life means

Or will I just stay
Here.
Empty.

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