Tag: self compassion

Love poem: Satin sheets/myelin sheaths

distantcaveLeave a comment

Welcome to my poetry website! Pink poems are love poems & blue poems are more general “life” poems. Each poem is interrupted by photographs and ends when you’ve reached the Soundcloud portion. I’m currently testing a Push notification application. xx

Myelin sheath: an insulating layer that forms around nerves, including those in the brain & spinal cord

Love poem: Satin sheets/myelin sheaths

Softening
Softening once more
Softening even further, forever more

This gentle life
And you wish your poetry posts got as much attention as your self-portraits do
How’s that supposed to feel?
I’m in knots, I haven’t not gotten over you
Arachnids spinning cobwebs in my mind
The glass mirror looks so good, so perfectly together
You would smash it to pieces if I’d let you just try

Standing on the edge of a river
Pebbles holding me, I hold them back
I am safe with myself
(I am only safe with myself)
How’s that supposed to feel?
Adjust my glasses & play with the cobwebs
I’m spinning like an obsolete carousel in violent orange & blue, wicked flames

As arachnids spin webs in the tiny spaces between my neurons
They know the pharmacology I don’t
They watch the synapses like cityscapes
Like a vintage cinema screen
How’s that feel?
How’s that feel to me?
Hold the cross on my necklace to remind me that there’s more
There’s more across this river
Want to lay down, but I don’t think I’d ever get up from this
Bed of flowers
Holding cobwebs
Paying attention to what nobody pays attention to
Dream world for sure

I’m a very good swimmer
I can’t even fake drown
My body sure does love me
And I love it too, for the first time in twenty-something years
A drive-by shooting that sounds like bursting fireworks
Illegal in California but on wholesale in the suburbs of Texas
The wildlife
Skips across the myelin sheath of my brain
How’s that feel?
How’s that really feel, to me?

You’re mowing your lawn & cursing every girl you ever met
Honey, I can’t get behind that
The fuzzy pedals of arachnids
Sewing me white satin dreamscapes
Dissolve right in, come dissolve right in
Not my time to free you from the confines of your mind

The arches of my body
Oh, they love me, they really love me
Neck pain so bad it wakes me up in the middle of the night
Play your electric guitar,
Solve your computer security program
Do it far away from me
I’m kissing spiders when I sleep

Oh, how much they love me
Oh, how much I love them in return
Maybe they’ll rearrange my spinal cord
So I won’t have to hurt

Then I won’t have to hurt
Arachnids sewing me white, satin dreamscapes
Trembling softly, getting softer
Forever more

Oh, how much they love me
Oh, how much I love them in return
Oh, how this city feels
Like it’s evacuating me

Trembling softly
Getting softer
I’m in love with cobwebs that are in love with me

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Free verse poem: Things I’ve found out (the right season)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Things I’ve found out (the right season)

a free verse poem about finding stability & self-acceptance

I know
That things won’t work out as planned
I know that
Because my mother taught me how to be a man
But there are
Parts of me that won’t let someone hold my hand
Because I
Because I
Find graveyards appealing
Harsh winter thunderstorms healing
And the chaos within you is quite often revealing
Of the doom and dismay your surroundings convey
The filth
The agony
The dreams others built for you become destroyed
I’m my own person

But when I drive home at night
I don’t feel alone
I just know I am

It was cold in Chicago
And I wanted to lay down
In the snow
My frail body
Seldom appears melancholy
Singing you songs, breathlessly, to you in your sleep
Though my voice is never the right pitch
Maybe that’s why I wait
Until you hit your steady dream state
An abyss of perpetual ignorance to moral obligations

The impatience
Is testing me
Like a ticking clock
Telling me
I
Haven’t painted
The sky quite right
Haven’t gotten the stars
To my audience’s delight
And I think
I might combust
From the tainted, porcelain figure I often wish to set on fire
Because what burns
Feels so warm
In winter

It’s almost
February
The anniversary of
A thousand slumbers
A rainfall that struck me like
Lightning on the fast lane on the highway
Swerving between cars with my eyes closed
Thinking I’m oh – I’m just so composed
But me, parchment paper thick, practically comatose
Wouldn’t keep anyone up at night
When you haven’t
Made a name
For yourself
And nobody
Gets the intonation
In your full name quite right
Maybe it’s not
The right time
To say

That what burns feels so warm
In winter
My god
The shades of blue
How I’d devour the skyline
Like an arsonist,
I fade to grey
Along with the trembling cityscape

I encapsulate all the seasons & am easily forgotten

I only hope to properly portray
The vacancy light in this hotel I occupy

Me,
Against the wall
Cold, doll-like, confused
Fingertips
Painted the lightest shade of pink that the nail salon could offer me
If only,
I could be elegant
I could like parts of myself that others don’t
I could live my life like
My father envisioned

When he said to me

That I was born
In the perfect season
For a girl who prolongs
Finding a reason
To burn this place down to the ground

Hollow
Cave
Where my old journals remain
Where ex-boyfriends mispronounce my last name
They never remember the best parts of you
They never really knew
How to get through
How your eyes turn dark green when your favourite song comes on
Or when the colour temperature is five thousand Kelvin and
I feel ashamed
That I woke up to find
Myself
Not in embers
But filling a body
With wholeness that only

Real self-acceptance could develop and create

Something permanent
Is never
Found

I’m no good with directions but I don’t believe I’m lost
I’m exactly
On my own two feet
Waiting
To leave a message after the beep

But I hang up, because I remember
They can’t pronounce my last name
The intonation
Is weak
And I
Am so
Much farther than I thought I would be
At this time of my life
Are you, at all, surprised?

When I look
At the cars
Passing me by
On the highway,
I wonder
If they’re going
Somewhere warm and inviting

I don’t know why
That
To me
Feels so terribly frightening

Like a cradle filled with endless lightning

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