Love in the Age of Terror

  1. Eternal

(I entered the scene; black shirt, black jeans, a can of cider, bought at the liquor store where I didn’t pay for my cigarettes this one time; I walked out and ran, justifying the theft as karmic justice: Who doesn’t have a bathroom?)

How can the eternal begin but with the idea of heavenly bliss?

“We are doomed to choose, and every choice may entail irreparable loss”

I chose out of some skewed concept of autonomy: a hand had held my shoulder.

I should have known better, should have known

——That karmic justice was awaiting me: (There is no patriarchy here)

Who said that and why did they lie ——-

That escaping horizontal violence didn’t mean

I was free from pain;

The hand that touched me was eternal

felt like home; like a friend that I never wanted to lose; enter hypothermia

I thought the priest was honest when he said love would come to stay

Love did feel eternal, but eternal meant:

[Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it]

I did eventually find a bathroom.

Maybe the eternal is the rush of the urine as it hits the water

The mix can always be reversed;

poempic1


The hum of everything sings as it did when we forgot to see each other and saw what we most hated about ourselves: the stench of being a person.
  1. Climax

Aren’t climaxes supposed to feel like the resolve of a conflict

Or maybe I’m confused

And the climax never ends

But continues going on

Like the way dreams envelop images

And in the images the hand that felt eternal suddenly feels

To be floating away.

  1. “Acceptance is usually more a matter of fatigue than anything else”

poem pic 2

The hum of everything sings as it did when we forgot to see each other and saw what we most hated about ourselves: the slow acrid banality of existing.
  1. Denouement

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Insignificance

I ripped the candy wrapper,

Did you hear the news?

I ripped the candy wrapper.

I do not remember ripping it,

it must have happened beyond my consciousness

but I ripped it.

I broke it, I tore it, I killed it.

In some way parallel to how I handle relationships.

I ruin, and wreck, and never even intend to or notice.

So then I become apathetic to it, I don’t even feel sadness.

I blame it on:

the season,

My drinking,

my sadness,

and I find a new tv show,

or another person to distract me.

Because in reality I am sad,

I feel remorse and yet did I truly ruin it,

or did they just leave?

I convince myself that it is the latter, that way I did nothing,

I can’t fix it, and it is insignificant.

I stare instead at some image

and forget.

 

 

 

The Dilapidated Swingset

Below the frame stands bare

A metal, freezing to the touch,

Reddening as the water breaks its surface.

A stripped form

as it stands in solitude;

its current state

invites no visitors to come and play.

It stands weighed down by previous hands, by its function,

and only that saves the remains.

All the folly that had wrecked

the vitality of its movement

had once been the spirit in the form

of blasphemous dreams.

“I had a dream of a sentiment

that I cannot recollect”,

Some call it

death of swing

euthanasia of indulgence

the abortion of the self.

Here lies the spinning

Necrosis in the form of follicles

A smoke in the air

to remind the lungs to hold their breath.

A trail of toxins which rupture the surface

and demolish the strings

leaving the scheme immaculate.

 

Title and Registration -Death Cab for Cutie is my heartbreak

“In psychology, memory is the process in which information is encoded, stored, and retrieved. Encoding allows information from the outside world to reach thefive senses in the forms of chemical and physical stimuli. In this first stage the information must be changed so that it may be put into the encoding process. Storage is the second memory stage or process. This entails that information is maintained over periods of time. Finally the third process is the retrieval of information that has been stored. Such information must be located and returned to the consciousness. Some retrieval attempts may be effortless due to the type of information, and other attempts to remember stored information may be more demanding for various reasons.”

-Wikipedia

I lit the cigarette

put on lack of color

stared into the darkness

and found memories of you.

Why does memory,

haunt me:

The mexican coca Cola,

the weird little video game

that we’ll never complete,

the glitter room

from gratitude.

The liberation that I found

once in your arms.

The dumplings that

I didn’t eat,

your dumb cat

who scratched me,

The walls of a room

so similar

it felt mine,

traded for loneliness

for some freedom

that never existed.

There was no goodbye,

Just my hand and a hang up.

I just Wanted to Write

What was the one experience that completely changed your life? What happened? How did it change your life?

We have to fall so that we may learn to rise.

There were three moments that changed my life: My last suicide attempt, Breaking off my Engagement, and the heartbreak of feeling used.

The three moments are written out in order. What Can I say about them? I can tell you that I felt no love during those times. How did I even get suicidal? I wish I had a rational explanation but I don’t. I just became a pill popper in an attempt to not face the fear and sadness that consumed me. I used to sleep. Sleeping Beauty may seem like just a story but it was my life. I just slept through my days and I awaited some salvation that was never going to come.

I remember the day. I was on the phone and I was begging my then lover to stay on the phone with me. “I will kill myself,” I blurted, unaware of the damage that I was inflicting on myself. I didn’t matter. My existence had no purpose. I was too deeply separated from life. I took a combination of pills, cough medication, and went to sleep. I awoke shaking, my heart raced. “Mom, help me I took ten tylenol pm, ten benadryl, half a bottle of nyquil”

“Why Laura?”

“Because I wanted to die.”

Death could have been a possibility. But it was not my time. The shaking ceased as I drank water and from then on I never again played with pills.

What did I learn?

I learned that my life is fragile and that my actions affect those around me.

A failed engagement was the last thing I expected to attain at twenty years of living. But before I knew it, I was entrapped within a relationship that worked through jealousy and betrayal. There is too much I could say but what I can most remember was the aftermath of breaking the engagement. I tried to fix what I had once idealized. Instead I ended up as an object to be used, and thrown around. One day I finally truly did end it. What did I learn?

Relationships don’t mean happiness. People cannot be idealized and happiness cannot be found within any one person.

I clung to anyone after my failed relationship. I stumbled upon a man who was older, richer, and arrogant. At first I thought that I loved him. The moments were my idea of perfect. Sitting in his patio, looking out towards the skyline from the hudson walkway, walking in the city, being a princess. But then it took me too far away from myself. I ended up in a strip club with too much too drink. Woke up without my dignity. He stopped talking to me for two months. It hurt me that I had betrayed myself but also that he had taken away some part of me. He lied and I believed him

What did I learn?

That love is not found in ideal situations. Also, words do not always contain truth; sometimes words function to manipulate and blind people.

Ultimately though, I have learned that my self-worth does not falter with my sins and shortcomings but that instead my sins and shortcomings have led me towards the self-fulfillment of finding my own strength. In a world of illusions and pretty lies, I can see what others try to hide. And I can try to help those who like me have fallen not once but multiple times.