Please wake my brain up. 

Please wake my brain up.

I am so numb right now, no home, no bonds, no feeling.

My main faith is in the tactile. My faith is in caresses, these keys I feel between my fingertips. 

My faith lays in the transient, the illusion of time, the illusion of like, the illusion of love.

My faith lays in unconditional love, and that love is in 5 people. 

And if God is unconditional love then I know God and I feel him and I know the bliss of a connection

Of a powerful support, an encapsulation that keeps me suspended when I would otherwise collapse. 

So this new numb lay in the yearning for part of this transience to remain fixed

To debunk my own theory that only unconditional love is permanent

And that other love loyalty and support can coexist alongside the pillars and standards of unconditional love in my life.

Until then, I’ll remain numb… I guess.

I need my space

I need my love

I need and constructive way to express and accept love at the same time I express my need my space

Space, Space like the distance between Hi, I’m home and Dinner is Ready

Space between waking up and going down into the subway

Space between boarding a plane and carrying on a conversation

Space between work and friends

Space is love to me, to give me my space is to love me

To come into my space is to punish me

To question my space is to upset me. 

I like my space but I love you

My space is my biggest compromise. 

Time in my space is my love to you. 

My Space and My Love are intertwined

I am scared, afraid, panic attack prone

anxiety prone, wound up, awake

I am so awake I barely blink, so awake I feel everything and nothing

Feel sad, bitter, nervous, happy, passionate, anxious

And I am am wound

I am wound so tight I feel every nerve vibrating, each neuron firing

not at the same time, but consecutively, one by one by one by one by one

Each one passing a message to the other

In a strange inner being message of chinese telephone, 

Each communicating to the other on an individual level, with its own tone and vernacular 

Some whispering some shouting, all distorting the message in their own way

Clouded by emotion

My message gets lost and misunderstood

The last neuron shouts out a declarative sentence

Nonsensical and irrelevant

My message is lost

And my anxiety begins once more

This is how I feel every day on the hour – trying to get out a message to have it distorted and convoluted, but powerless to translate it, too late is catching the confusion to stem the tide of miscommunication.

Scccccccccccrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmm

IF I could scream

if I could scream

And the words that came from that scream would be daggers with burning bright orange tips

I would direct my scream, I would focus my scream, I would channel it

To the assholes who don’t call a woman after a great date

Who throw her into a paranoia where she steps out of her rightful mind, hears phantom phone rings, checks her inbox, her voicemal inbox, her facebook, her modem… call the internet company to ask if everything’s okay…

Y’know cause bad connections happen

One phone call, the dialing of 7 digits, the sitting through one ring, then two rings, then three….

Whats the worst that could happen? huh? voicemail? line disconnected? child #2 of a total of 6 answers with spongebob playing on the tv in the background

Fucking grow some balls and call the woman

The longer you wait the more she turns into a werewolf – hypersensitive to sight, smell and touch

Fading more and more from the world of the sane – wild eyes, sitting alert, erratic speech…

Questions herself, checks her poise, second guesses her beauty

Oh this man, you confused man – if you’re not gonna call..

Then don’t ask her out, keep it moving

Don’t ask her out

At all.

I don’t feel like being a poet today

To write verses loaded with rhyme

Stanzas and smart meters, balanced, in time.

Kill the wordsmith inside me, please go wake the airhead

The poet needs to go away for while, in fact, the poet is dead.

The depth and this knowledge, this insight, great thought

Has been my comfort, my companion, much agony its brought

My pulsing brain keeps going, just banging against my skull

Clamouring for stimulation, I am just here waiting for the lull

The eye of the storm, the stream of consciousness on pause

Strap down my mind please unclench my mental jaws

Let loose my inside self, so trapped behind words and fiction

I want to love and breathe reality, just for a while fuck diction

So kill the poet please, lock her in a coffin

Not forever, no not forever, for this talent I am grateful

But I am so done with all of this analysis

Overthinking, overgasping, causing me social paralysis

So off I go to entomb the poet

Kicking and screaming she goes

Goodbye for now, adieu

See you not now but see you soon.

sanpixee.wordpress.com

Ugh and Argh were 2 young friends who lived inside the sewer

Ugh bitched and moaned, croaked and groaned

A more cultured Argh wanted to go by “Peter”

Argh would go to above ground by himself to drank chai at noon with lemon

He would cross his legs and spike his tea with scotch imported from Yemen

Ugh spat at Argh, thought him snooty

So he thought up a scheme to maim Argh’s booty

He crept into the garden when the sun was high

Birds had drunk their dew, done their morning fly

Ugh the wicked – his eyes grew pale with evil

His brain a-working took the sharpest needle

Planted it neatly in the garden seat

Tucked it from sight, so perfect so neat

Argh came on schedule chewing an apple

Spat out the core, hugged his Kiwi snapple

Took out his teabag and proceeded to sit

When a young hummingbird from the canopy did flit

“Beware” she said “And mind your bum..

A creature was here, he so dirty so glum

He had spat in the meadow and came over here

He looked around…ooooh he had a horrid glare

Hurry back inside and punch his snout

Search his pockets turn them out

Your eyes will widen, your teeth will gnash

When his clothes betray a hidden stash.”

She flew away and Argh did heed

Thinking the young bird a friend indeed

He did all he was told and caught such fury

He convened the forest animals to form a jury

As to what to do with his former friend

And now this ditty must come to an end

Any ideas? A reply do send.

sanpixee.wordpress.com

I am here pressing out some words,

Ironing under the cuff

Dusting off hyperbole

Speaking in the buff

Alliterating alliterations

Squishing together nouns and verbs

Finding what pairs well with articles

Not trying nothing grammatic wrong

Finding what works on paper

Rolls off my tongue

Drips off the back of my medulla

Uninfluenced by rum

Just here pressing out some words

Always excited by languages

Seeking a poet or wondrous muse

Stimulate my senses.