poetry

What It’s Like Now by Meryle

I want to smoke cigarettes and hate myself.  

I’m so used to it, it seems like the right thing to do. 

Like getting frustrated and animated at things I can’t control 

At things that aren’t that bad, 

Like I’m not validly existing 

Unless I am performing annoyance like a boiling kettle screaming steam.

 

Everything is ok

Everything is gonna be fine

Just gotta get uncomfortable while I slip between that rock and a hard place

But I know I’ll slip through 

I’m more malleable than I know.

 

But still

The glamorous sad keeps pulling at the back of my shirt

Sometimes tripping me and choking me

 

I’ve changed too much

So slowly

In such a short period of time

 

I’m looking around surprised at what I’ve lost. 

Looking for memories of the time everything vibrated with daggers into my senses

But now its iridescent pink bubbles, and rose petal clouds swirling around me 

Sometime reality smelling like farts or screaming like police sirens, 

But only for a minute 

Only for a moment 

Only for a second.

 

And then my body settles back to that soft wind tickling through the fresh uncut wild green grass.

And lilac trees bloom around my mind

Like a fragrant halo.

 

8 specific people who, in the end, were the same bad medicine by Meryle

I had so much anger to give you.  For the hurt and the disrespect, the entitlement, and blind dismissal of who I am.  The using and disregarding of my inherent worth and needs so you could take from me to feed your narcissism’s insatiable shame ego.

 

But then I reached out my hands, 

and I touched the ground, 

and it all dissipated. 

 

And now I’m tired.

And I’m sad.

Sad for you.

Sad for all the hurt inside you.

The pain,

the abandonment

the disregard for your welfare,

or even the threatening of you life,

from everything that was supposed to love you and protect you as a child.

 

All that stuff that made you so awful inside

and I see that now,

that resplendently grotesque entity looming over you like a crown.

 

And can’t even be angry at your abuse anymore.

 

Just sad.  For you.

 

To be an angry itching ball of fire red embers burning in every pore all the time?

To hear your mind constantly scream “You are never good enough and you will never be safe”?

To know in your mind

“mommy and daddy don’t love you

and won’t ever be there for you, not really, 

not then, 

not when you needed it the most.

never”?

 

What a horror to live in that shell!

 

So why should I give you my anger?  Why should I correct your mind and show you why its you who is the wrong doer and not the hero?  What good would it do me, to reinforce your rage in you? What good would it me to remind you of your constant sense of worthless.  What good would it do you?  What good would it do anyone?

 

 

You’re a shadow ball of dark prickly energy constantly swirling around your own self destruction, drinking down the vortex, only making it worse and making yourself sicker and sicker in emotional  and physical debt.

 

So what worth would it be to give you more anger and worthlessness to carry?

Your burden of your own mind is too much for anyone.

You don’t need scolding

You need love and unloading.

And I can’t do that for you.

I will not go through that for you.

Not anymore.

Not ever again.

I don’t need that load.

Not ever.

 

So instead, 

I wish you my love,

from a far, FAR away land.

The Great Equalizer by Meryle

what if we are the storm?

what if Kali's wrath is good?

what if now is wrong and destruction's current currency is right?

 

redirect that current. redirect the narrative. redirecting the current narrative

 

the leaders and creatures will not conglom their egos for resolutions. they will not lift their shields of hubris to nobly take the mantle of protectors of ALL.

 

they will not die for us

but they will die for themselves

 

who destroys the destructors?

who erases through wiped slates?

don’t press the reset

set free the repressed

the news arched and smartly dressed

the wolf mouth bride

who swallows your flesh

digests your nonsense

giving birth to our word refreshed.

 

and the storm is awesome. 

because

I am the storm

 

- Meryle

Pillows of Snow by Meryle

"There is a holy white light to a sunshine winter day.
Everything sounds soft and the light shines brighter, there are crystals in the street.

The black lace of naked tree fracture dark veins across the sky like the stems of your own lungs.

And then you breath in ice knives and you are awake, and present, aware of every sliver of the shiver of every cell in your body, they all say:
"oh yes this is cold, like the last time I forgot, what a shock."

Is it bad to feel cold when the sun has a halo of white gold and mounds of fluffy white diamonds reflect the sky?
The feelings lose meaning when - reflective and gleaming - the light shimmering beauty infects the eyes."

- Meryle