dialogue with PTSD – everyday poetry 128

dialogue with PTSD, this was the prompt for the Veterans Writing Workshop today, it was Just Adam & Harvey and myself as the Veterans – and Adam’s prompt that i wrote on – with our fearless leader Leilani!!! i walked in, and there was this dialogue being discussed, and it turns out with all the complicated discourse, that the piece ended up being

dialogue with PTSD

1/21/14, 12:38 PM

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shut the fuck up MOTHER FUCKER

quit cussing out the Art Teachers Assistant

Stop cussing out U’r Art  professor @ PCC

 ☯ ⚍ ☯ 

and by all means don’t disrupt the Social Work Class in their midterm exam

mother fucking son of a bitch, goddamn, goddamned it

hyperventalating, hyperventalating hyperventalating

try to catch U’r breath, deep breathing, deep breathing deep breathing

BREATH MOTHER FUCKER BREATH GOD DAMNED IT

 ☯ ⚍ ☯ 

too late, oh damned, crying in class, crying on the bus, crying on the train, and worse of all, crying in the closet, because it is real dark, and entertaining thoughts in the same hues, pitch that is, no light at all, and crawling in desperation, like right before the leap in front of the train, right before the knife sliced my wrist, right before the razor blade gave warmth to the only hug i had, the only embrace, the last embrace, but to a whole knew world of no pain, the next realm, weather after life or not, no more pain, no more having to deal with what is not mine,

 ☯ ⚍ ☯ 

God damned it, would U please, just shut the fuck up, stop all of this goddamned noise, from sounds i cannot see, sounds i no longer hear, but forever they are there, or over there, or right the fuck here… no off button, no on button, no way to know when they come and when they go and what the fuck, why am i going so slow

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and the coaches, like in the writing workshop for we Veterans, seeking, grasping, at times, seeming as if at air, at the crosshairs of despair, at the demons that are not there, ooopppsss, you missed them, they are over there, no under your chair, under your bead, rattling around int the mother fucking head, shake them out , shake them out , shake those motherfuckers out man!!!

☯ ⚍ ☯ 

breath, breath, breath, i am breathing now, i drank my water, thank U Kathy, and thank to all of U who told me , go to that place of your Tai-Chi movement, go try to get to the beach, if only in the head, try to put it down on paper, in the form of art, try to get yourself friends to lead you on the road… pushing the start button, the start button the easy button please, this difficulty, these difficulties really killing me, killing me, i’m a ghost already, the physical still here, but a ghost U see, a ghost U here, a ghost for U, to now be aware

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where the hell is my head, my thoughts, my actions, all drowning every bit of the anguish, if i can, drowning the hatred for self, because i am hopeless to do a motherfucking thing before again sinking,

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i want to sing songs in different languages, because i am tired of hearing the same damned meaningless words that make not a damned bit a sense to me, not a bit of sense.

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but on this road i am, a hard working man, a hard working Marine, i am hard working, i can’t help it i lost every job, i was doing the work, crying at work, hyperventilating at work, wanting to die at work, over looking the cement from 4 stories up, hoping gravity to pull me down, but i am still here, i am still working, i am still seeking

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i heard U say there is a cure, i heard U say, U are in love with the pain, i hear U tell me that i am comfortable, i have become comfortable with pain, with the hell that is everyday, with the lack of an escape route with a lack of stability, i hear U loud and clear… i don’t believe any of it

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no cure, no resolution, but one thing that i have learned, is that out of all these years, there is only mitigating, mitigating of the hell, the duration, the triggers, the headfuck , the sorrow, the pain, the anxiousness, the loneliness, the why can’t i stop letting psychological torment get in the way of being loved, i mean really being loved, the loving my socks off kind of being loved. i have the love of many friends, and some family, but i mean – damn, am i still lovable, i know i am , but am i worthy of love, am i really worthy of being loved, as i want to love, and openly still i pour out love, and give love in esteem, in nurturing, in hearing, in hoping for others, everything that i can’t seem to do myself, everything i can’t seem to do for myself, is to love me

 ☯ ⚍ ☯ 

MY DIALOGUE WITH PTSD

1/21/14, 12:59 PM

anguished scream

anguished scream

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