Red Flags & Bad Vibes . . .
I should have been there for her final moments, and I wonder if she suffered alone, with not even angels to guide her. Disappearing from the world, unconditional love that was given only to me. I just can’t love like I used to. Leading by–transitory–examples…loving completely unreserved, gifting and receiving in return recycled emotions. I can’t let myself be swayed by anything not reserved for me, yet I yearn for the unconditional love I once felt, searching in the most dangerous places–eyes, lips, voice, feeling–leaving behind traces I was there, only known to me because each time I feel the sense of loss…Anxiousness, agony, loneliness; there’s a void growing inside me, and I’m not enough to fill it…nor are the lies others whisper in quiet moments . . . I’ve exhausted my resources, giving my emotions to him and him and you. . . . What’s left in the wake of this death, is an unfillable void . . . . . . . .
It’s Marie .
No new updates, just…checking in.
My life is falling apart, guys. I don’t know how to talk about it. I’m not good at expressing my feelings…but shit sucks right now. Life sucks. Life sucks, and then we die. So I’m waiting…for the curtain call you know. It’s not a secret, you’ve all been here since the start of this blog in 2013. You’ve seen my spirals and progressions through my writings.
I’ve been unable to properly express my emotions since 3 years ago. I’m sure you all were aware, but the sexual abuse victim I write about in poetry and elude to in free writes at times…is me. Ever since that relationship…I’ve not been the same. I see no reason to validate myself or explain myself, neither convey nor show my emotions for anything…so I don’t, and in the ways I do, I do way to much. My feelings keep getting hurt and emotionally I feel like I’m beyond what I can handle just in general…alive for laziness alone. I’m angry, I’m disrespected. I’ve brought this on me, I can’t complain about it. I won’t complain about it. I won’t respond to it. Maybe that’s the problem. I have all this pent up feeling inside me and I don’t know what to do about it anymore. I don’t know what to say anymore, so I’ve stopped saying anything but it’s festering and I’m losing my mind and grip on sobriety . . . . I don’t even know why I’m posting now, maybe to try in a desperate attempt, to reach out to anyone…..I just don’t want to do this anymore…..there’s something wrong with me and I don’t know what it is. Something is wrong and broken in my head and everything is so confusing and I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m tired. I’m so tired. Do you hear me, God? I’m so tired. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to do this anymore. Maybe if I speak this into existence….or maybe I’m stronger than I feel and I just don’t know. I don’t know. But this is so hard for me. I need help. No one can help me; none of you, not God, nor myself? I just…I don’t even know anymore…
30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 1
Title: Yesterday & Tomorrow
Prompt Type: Poetry, Prose, Free Verse, Lyric
By: Marie Meyers
Yesterday & Tomorrow
Things are alright today,
but I don’t know about tomorrow
Yesterday had me feeling blue
I prayed for a better tomorrow
Today’s kind of going all right,
may I be hopeful tomorrow will be the same
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
but I guess I was the exception for you
–don’t get me wrong,
I’m fine with that, truly,
I’m even sorry for the wasted time,
not just for myself, but for you as well…
it’s not always fate,
sometimes it’s just the way life goes
It has it’s own rhythm it moves to;
things work themselves out
However, there are times when
my body sways to the beat of the music,
& I get caught up in the memories
of days before.
Swept up in my laughter
of days before,
then like a bad trip I return to reality,
& the somber feeling returns,
like a bad hangover
–things have changed from then to now,
& Lady Agony, attacks with a swiftness
& with ruthless savagery . . .
Breath rushing from my lungs,
I’m forced to my knees,
I close my eyes & bow my head,
then bring my hands together in prayer:
& I pray I’ll be alright.
Now things are alright today,
but I don’t know about tomorrow.
Yesterday had me feeling blue
so I prayed for a better tomorrow.
Today is kind of going alright,
may I be hopeful tomorrow will be the same?
Can I? Can I pray to God for better days?
-Fin. Copyright, Marie Meyers, 2018. All Rights Reserved.
“unable to turn back time”
to live the same moments a second time,
if only i could do something different;
memories taunt and haunt, like nightmares;
sleep paralysis —
i’m thrashing, helpless against the demon in my view . . . unable to escape this hurt manifesting within me . . . an open wound . . . into oblivion . . .
Marie: So I love this free write and decided to share this here. I’ve never heard of a black dress symbolizing insecurities or hurt…really nice piece by a talented author!
Copyright “Little Black Dress” by Zachary Pedersen. Marie Meyers 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Walking endlessly through a forest; Trudging deeper and deeper…The sky sets, stars align, and orange hues begin to fade against the shillouetes of trees…Distorting and warping my reality in a thick brush…..My feet come together, legs still at my sudden halt, forest floor spinning…Blue ruin, I’ve made myself lost with no clear way out…my Hellos and cries for help fall upon my ears alone, the sound of my labored breaths echo, and resounds loudly in the open air…I feel a menacing presence beside my own, legs aching and stretching I run deeper through the dark, catching and scratching flesh against bark and branches….Following the sound of rushing water, a river, my legs give out, my skin scrapes the forest floor, the monster getting closer, I look to the river to see myself one last time….Behind me stands my shadow…..In the darkest parts of my mind exists a euphemism. . . . . .
I scream, it echoes, curling into myself, tears disinfect tiny blind scratches in my palms….Relief or agony, I’m my own menace, but I don’t know….Nor know why…As the forest cools and night ascends, I shiver, will the sun ever return here? Feels like it’s been too many hours now. . . . . ¤ M.M.2018