May 28, 2016

Ice cream -- Ooooh how I love you. So cold, so moist, so sweet.

You are my frozen bliss like the iceberg to the Titanic. I yearn for our unification,

lust your taste. But, you know what they say

A second on the lips is a lifetime on the…

Shit…

I am frozen.

Not that semi-painful semi-pleasant brain-freeze type. I am stuck in my tracks,

like a deer in the headlights.

I look around for a sign that may point in the direction of my throne -

frisbee, I duck.

I hear laughing, see splashing, feel the blistering sun upon me.

It’s all too much.

I clench my teeth, I clench my butt - to no avail of my own

I do not see a throne.

I run east. I run west. Fuck. I clench again. I pause and squirm.

I see the ice cream window. I’ll just jaunt on over there and ask.

I scurry past the line of people preparing their palates and peering forward at a sample of the flavours, and make my way to the ice cream window. I stand on the side, smiling and shyly swaying my body as I do in awkward elevator rides.

“Can I get mint-chocolate chip and double chocolate, no make that pralines and creme... In a sugar cone?” Says the burnt bald man in a bright blue hawaiian shirt.

I stare intently at the ice cream-ista. The freckled girl peeks out the window, catches my gaze and throws it down the beach about a kilometer.

The distance I have to travel makes me feel greener than the ice cream bundle she passes to the blue blanketed tomato man.

How the hell will I make it there? My morale is sinking, I know poo does not. I cant run, it may ooze. I cant swim. I cant swim. I have to walk, and I have to walk briskly.

My thoughts scramble like children who hear 'ready or not, here I come!'

I begin my expedition and detect a turtle peeking out behind me. Sweat pouring down my back like gatorade down Gary Kubiak. I look up from my steps and see a God send gift -- a Shaq is close!

“Hey! Hey Mr. O’Neal! Can you carry me?” I yell.

“Where do you want to go?” He responds.

“To the washroom over there” I smile and look up to the sky, hoping he will sweep me off my feet and carry me to my destiny.

After a few moments pass, I notice my feet searing like the hot dogs my uncle made on the grill last summer. I look up and realize the man was asking his dog where it wants to do its business. I watch the dog watch walk, circle, squat-walk, and shake its contents, wishing I could do the very same.

About to explode, I book it to the washroom.

I am 500m away - 400 m - now 320.

Pause. Clench, I try to distract myself whilst trying to create the illusion that this abrupt pause was controlled and normal like I won’t shit my yellow polka dot bikini right on the spot.

When the convulsions and propulsions cease, I walk-clench once more.

200m. 100m. At 50m I see a few people line and my bowels tighten and relax,I pray “Oh God! Please provide me the strength to close my anal sphincter as I wait in this line you graciously have created.”

Minutes pass. I’m feelin’ okay, feelin’ like a bad-ass.

I get in my stall and check for TP… no TP. Fucking fantastic. Thanks for the warning bitch, I think as I shoot a sneering look at the girl who just escaped this barren wasteland.

I try not to panic. I peak out and begin asking for the sumptuous paper. I feel the muscles in my sphincter wilt like the flowers will outside in a moment and clench.

Toilet paper acquired.

I lock the door and begin to pour out my intestines, bracing myself from the cramps as my insides unravel the knots they so quickly created. I look up from the floor with a sense of hope knowing that I again evaded a premature volcanic eruption.

I am relieved.

April 27, 2016

You are listening to the constant hum
of the fridge in your kitchen.
You gaze admirably
at the endless waving spruce, oak,
and maple trees
that greet you beyond your windowpane.
You appreciate the robin, mallard,
sparling, and sparrow that symphonise
the setting of the sun.
You are alone, not lonely,
but in tranquility
with your senses and surroundings.

If even for a moment, You are free – okay

March 07, 2016

A mirrored basin
With a fishbowl effect

Warps reality.

Connected to comfort
And gifting solace

Memories are seared.

Bubbles, bubbles, boils -
A scorching liquid

Screeches to warn.

A trail of steam
Rising through dried leaves

Conceals fresh blisters.

December 06, 2015

Dandelion Flowers

They feel your soft breath

and pucker up without it

near, for fear of being weeded out,

deemed rotten and plucked

by what roots them.

When you look at them

 they shimmer like a shooting star

on a bleak countryside road.

You see their beauty

and to you they wave

tall and proud.

As you wake in the early morn

you caress them

with your big blue eyes.

You hold them up

 during the monsoons

of the sky’s tears

And in the eve, you tuck them in,

with the moon shining down,

and your warmth pouring over them.

And you love them,

sometimes unrequited,

as the ardent flower you know

December 11, 2015

I fear that life will never

exist past these walls.

That I will never see

the light of tomorrow’s

morn. Each sound,

movement, and thought

jolts me. Like the barbed

wire that lines this field.

I heard this day may come.

The moment when I am

abducted and taken to

unfamiliar territory.

Within seconds

I am held captive.

But I am not in Dachau,

nor Auschwitz.

I have built my own prison.

I house myself here, more

often then not.

My body encapsulates me,

like a rat infested casket,

suffocating me and gnawing

until I am no more.

I do not know my fate or

why I am endangered.

It all happened so fast.

Like a bullet to the chest,

I convulse, bleed, take

my last breath.

I prayed this day

would come, once. 

But I am not so sure I

want this to come true.

December 04, 2015

Ready for battle
I rose to the challenge. 
Hopped on the train,
Absorbing it all. 
No smoke stacks to see 
But the steam from my sweat. 
 

So i gathered my goods
And sought nourishment. 
I looked and looked
But like the Bremuda Triangle
I got lost in the midst. 

I could sense a strife
Not sure how near or far. 
Trying to avoid, 
I warrily moved about. 
"Do it now!" Screamed the captain. 
But i ignored. 

Terror, pulsing through my veins
I backed away. Step after step. 
Until I hit a dark black wall. 
Stuck in the corner, 
I stare at the silver trigger,
Wondering what lays beyond. 
Until a farmilar voice says "its just me." 

Still petrified I contemplate. 
In due time, that silver handle gets pulled, 
a fury of fear released onto my commrades shoulder. 
Though the war continues, the battle is over.

November 08, 2015

This impervious cloud that is fucking concentrated around my head – the heaviest motherfucking cloud let me tell you – well this dammed cloud, it can move. Its not the strength of the person in the cloud, it’s the strength of those around. Because with that cloud comes quick sand. If the person inside struggles, the cloud grows and their chance shrinks. Sometimes you need someone to give you a boost. Shit, they may need a million boosts before you can push them above and beyond the cloud. but that fucking cloud wont budge without you. 

November 08, 2015

Just realized

I have

another

week of this shit.

Suffering in silence,

though I voice

 my story each day.

I want to scream,

 but I don’t know how.

Except when I crunch

 my finger in-between

the chair and desk.

So then,

Apparently

 only physical pain

gives appropriate reason

to scream vulgarity.

November 08, 2015

I’m fucked up,

frustrated,

 tired of this garbage.

The inner

 terrors capsize

my brain,

turning it from simple

organ to –

I cannot think

of a description

 that does the feeling

justice.

I cannot explain

 how awful

 this earth feels.

November 07, 2015

I was crystal clear,

looking beyond the moon.

I was light, weightless, like a feather.

laughing at my convenience,

without weakness.

I could spill milk, all over the floor

and with no doubt, I would not melt-

down. I could tell people my loved

ones that I was happy, and not think

myself a cheat.

whatever sparked the light,

helped me to see,

and bore my weight, its dwindling.

I know because I am heavier,

I’m like a sinking ship.

slowly being pulled down

by my own weight.

 my energy is being transferred,

 or taken, or destroyed.

I cannot find an outlet

that may help me regain my power.

so I wait and see if luck will have me

but my tangled stomach

is wriggling up my chest.

It’s the bane of my existence

invoking anxiety and despair.

 The clouds are rolling in.

 I fear they may wreak havoc.

There was no chance

of rain this morning…

November 07, 2015

What is anxiety?

I cannot explain.

The way it makes me feel

It's a fucking pain.

I wake up in the morning,

Weekend or weekday,

Not knowing how to live

It's a crappy price to pay.

I am not just nervous

I am not too stressed,

I am not simply a student

These opinions I detest.

With every action,

regarding every thought,

Fear overcomes me,

I am more and more distraught.

Each decision to be made,

My body reacts with strife.

Nausea is its driver

That takes over my life.

November 07, 2015

I wake up,

Anxious.

I get dressed,

Anxious.

I slop downstairs,

Anxious.

I have cereal,

Less anxious.

I brush my teeth.

I pack my bag,

Anxious.

I get into the car,

Afraid.

I drive to the train,

Angry.

I park,

I run,

Anxious.

I swipe my presto,

Rising anxiety.

I shove my earplugs in.

I step onto the train platform,

Horrified.

People arrive and wait,

Horrified.

The train comes,

Utter distress.

The train stops,

I breathe.

“Must find an aisle seat, facing forward.”

I breathe.

The train starts.

I squeeze my eyes, plug my ears.

Anxious.

November 06, 2015

Every noise

makes you cringe.

Fear strikes you

from head to toe.

You lock yourself

in your body

to shelter it from

what’s outside.

But there is nothing

seen outside.

Where are these

terrors that

wreak havoc on

your mind, body,

and soul?

As the day(s)

progress(es), irrational

thoughts hold you.

You cannot escape.

They scratch at you

until they have their

way with you.

But what is it they

want?

November 05, 2015

I feel misunderstood.

I am lonely and weep to you.

Alone in my world, that crashes

in on me, day after day.

Why can’t you just understand?

It shouldn’t be so hard

to feel that someone you love

is dead and gone, that the outside world isn’t safe. I live that irrationally,

everyday.

I feel pathetic, weighted,

exhausted, carrying the quandaries

of how to save the world and

cannot even save myself.

Just lose control of your mind,

then you will understand.

Can’t you just let your mind run

like a slinky down thousands of steps.

Now add more slinky’s.

Now add more slinky’s.

Try and catch them to make them stop.

You won’t ever succeed.

Are you tired of running?

Feeling sick, like you need a bucket at your side? Have a salad now dear,

and go for a run while your at it.

Can’t do it can you. Just try not to succumb

to the sadness.

TRY IT! CAN YOU HEAR ME! FEEL
HOW I FEEL. GET EXHAUSTED.
GET SAD. FEEL LIKE VOMITING.
HATE YOURSELF. E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y.

Then listen to everyone hate you.

Or, at least that’s what your brain is telling you,

all the time.

But, for all those reasons,

I never want you to understand.

I only want you to accept me

for me,

strong and persevering.

I need you around, relentlessly,

to cherish who I am,

mental illnesses included. 

November 05, 2015

You write

for yourself.

You have no

standard, no

rules, no

boundaries.

Write your

emotions and

thoughts and

feelings.

Your sharing

helps others.

Stop your

judgements.

You have no

standard, no

rules, no

boundaries.

You write

to escape.

There is

multiple

exits. 

October 21, 2015

The sun rose

no petal’s opened.

The blue sky

looked grim.

Eager mind’s run,

mine’s incessant.

Suspicion's crumpled

into a bottle and purged.

Humiliation revived,

rational fractured.

Idea’s unravelled,
one saying get a grip.

The lens tarnished,

despite my revolt.

Scum climbing

my heart flaccid.

October 15, 2015

Picking up a

pencil to write 

is gruelling.

As heavy as

Thor’s hammer,

and impossible for me to lift.

But it’s a mere pencil,

to press the common paper,

to show my thoughts.

The step

of obtaining a pencil

is challenging,

its high above my waist.

But the next step

it sores above my head.

All I have to do is hold the pencil.

Head first, I am in the clouds.

The dark, sullen ones

that accompany a tornado.

Rain drops cling

to the windows and as they fall

they distort the world beyond.

April 29, 2015

Vulnerable, but bound

with the strength of an egg

against an enclosed palm-

Tree’s sway,

with a thankfully

unforced laugh-

Out loud,

support is given, felt,

and herd-

Of misfits

form perfectly into a puzzle-

Me not,

for their testimony

can never be found false.

It is true: they are the exception. 

April 29, 2015

The concept of writing is quite peculiar.

A utensil makes symbolic smudges

on a deceased and shredded tree.

That sounds a lot like a meat counter.

“Hi I will get the nice, fat streaked

 ham, thinly sliced.”

You compile all of these

scuff marks

on murdered pine, oak, or maple

paper only to have your work judged.

There is an infinite forest

of words and combinations,

yet, some hot shot gets to

axe your tree – meanwhile

others praise it.

Are too many things subjective?

Is that dress

white and gold or

black and blue?

I suppose then, that there is little we know for certain.

Perhaps writing is a battle

to convince admiration

in the midst of making

this life bear-able.

Perhaps writing makes us sprout

and mature.

There is one thing that I know for certain…  

April 06, 2015

The pleasant feeling

of content is being able to enjoy

sitting on the floor. The wind howling and thrashing

the contents of the jungle. Yet, the hustle and bustle of

the animals identifying that there

is no storm surging.

The wholesome

calmness is being able to hear plants,

eating and excreting oxygen. No raindrops

crash-landed today, only a

plane in Halifax.

The joy

of wonder is speak-ulating;

the thoughts of other life forms, species, planets,

enough to drive you wild. We need not venture

there because wonder is also beauty. It is

looking at each individual and

appreciating, if only, a

single aspect.

Peace is

being within the present;

experiencing all five

senses at once

without fear.

March 30, 2015

The magnetized sounds

so effervescent, pop

towards my Pinna, bang

against my Hammer

and knock my Stirrups.

The tickling of my

Eustachian Tube

keeps me vexed.

Eyes glazed,

not unlike fresh Ikea cinnamon buns.

A yawn, stretching,

like a giraffe

trying to reach the ground.

Ducks are active

as tears are excreted

from the lachrymal glands.

Brain waves.

Brain runs.

Raccoons dancing,

supposedly,

through garbage as I sleep.

Someone poked

a hole in my box;

the photons rush through.

Warning: there is a drought

in the gustatory region,

with extreme temperature warnings to the south.

C1, C2, C3, C4, C5; I see them not

but feel them ubiquitously.

The feather attack!

For I am the lone witness on the stand.

Eye mask my exacerbated rash

but ooze

my exhaustion.

Click. Buzz. Click. Click.

Hippopotamus expansion.

Brain sprints and

does not stop

until –

zzzzzz.