Dearest Convolution

Dear Emotional Convolution,

 

How am I supposed to live two lives in one lifespan?

It’s too much to ask of one man or woman.

 

How am I supposed to act when half of my life is spent in back in black?

Like I’m a living AC/DC track.

 

What am I supposed to do when every conversation contains mini heart attacks?

Constant slaps and emotional traps.

 

What does one do when they live side by side with hypocrisy?

Walking among those who never see.

 

What is one to do with deliberate, repetitive punches to the brain?

With pain?

 

Feels like I’m insane in the membrane.

Therapists say: “Store it in some artistic way.”

 

But at the end of the day

How am I supposed to make time for play?

When I just waste away…

 

Paint my pain?

Write my worry?

Sing my sorrow?

What if I feel like I can’t make it through to tomorrow?

 

What happens when I feel like I’m slamming up against a wall?

And the only way through it is not through it at all.

 

Can’t stand tall,

I’m afraid I’ll fall

 

I’m acting like I haven’t been falling at all-

Like it’s Just an emotional free fall and I’m comfortable smiling through it all-

Like I’m not lying-

Like I’m not crying at all.

 

Desperation producing communication

This fragile heart endlessly achin’

 

Hoping to be pulled out of Darkness

By the king of justice…

 

But what happens if it’s just radio silence?

 

You start thinking you deserve it-

“I deserve this.”

 

Your own albatros,

Carrying it every day like it’s not digging into your back

 

And your soul is as “white as snow,”

But your back is red with blood-

 

And you try- try with all your might

Try to take flight…

 

Fly out of the darkness

Leave your hardest of heart-ness

 

Flying to escape your mind

One stroke at a time

Thing is it’s full of deception

And you think you can make it

By altering your perception

 

But I feel like I’m flying blind…

Blinded by the light?

 

You can’t see a way out now.

It’s darkness but without.

 

Just trapped in the light.

 

It’s searing off your skin

How is this a win?

 

 

I’m flying in light, but my vision is still clouded

And the darkest part is

I’m still struggling with the past it’s

Shattered realities

And Broken promises

 

How do you come out of this?

 

Working every day like you won’t get another chance

And the good times don’t seem to last.

 

Feel like your own personal Judas

Everyone’s asking “how can you do this?”

 

Like I’m not trying to get through it.

Like they’re the ones going through it.

Like I just need to get to it.

 

 

What they don’t understand is:

I’m waiting for my resurrection, it’s my new perception-

 

 

But all I’m getting is hellfire and darkness

And the ironic part is I’m flying in whiteout blindness.

 

Torturing my own mind with nonsense feelings

I’m being purified by the salt pouring out over my eyelids

 

Making themselves known with stinging and burning

It’s only my soul purging-

Vomiting my guilt and blame

Unraveling my undeniable shame.

 

So much pain.

 

I’m packing up my despair and Fed Ex-ing it

Little tear drop boxes-

Neat little packages tied up with string?

I only know one thing:

 

A feeling.

 

But the feeling is feeling like I’m spinning, twisting, twirling.

A hamster on a hamster wheel

Just running because it likes the feel.

 

But I don’t want this

It’s all just constant elaborate excuses

 

But to face it?

Stand up in a mirror and bare it all?

Putting up my cross and picking at all the splinters?

To jab wooden prongs into my eyes and my mind full of lies?

 

Maybe I’m just afraid I won’t make it-

If I stand up and face it-

I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it.

 

Too scared to try

So right now I’ll just fly

Blinded by light and feeling like my life’s a lie

But maybe this is the harsh reality of living on cloud 9

 

Because feeling something is better than feeling nothing.

Better than thinking.

Better than speaking.

 

My dearest emotional convolution

This is my conclusion:

 

I’ve gotten used to you-

You’re my own emotional contusion. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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