Light & Dark

Like the irony of trust, there are two sides to the same page. One born of water, the other refined by fire. Love & fear, a cartoonist publisher said.

I find safety in dark attics, just a lamp guiding my fingers running amok on the keyboard. Safe, for no one can see the face drenched with tears and embarrassing rashes forming across the cheeks. No one can see the wet pillow, yellow with stains of anxiety. Under the sheets, where hands and feet are tied, secure and hidden. I turn out the lights so no one can see my footprints and the bruises and burn marks from the rope too tight. I hide my scar against the camouflage of the shroud, a silent shadow cowering over and my embrace and affection running deep.

I still cannot stop. The night is still and empty and I don't want to lose it to the wearing out of time. I struggle to find my feet and head a place to rest, to really rest, safe from the empty lies of this world. I try to swim ashore from this sea of a widow's pain. The tide is still too strong and my body is still too weak.

When there is nothing to be afraid of, you can move and find your way instinctively in the dark. What is happening to me?

Questions

Why is everyone scared of me? Why do they tip toe around me like I laid the eggshells before me? Why can't they fucking say what they are thinking? I can read the signposts and reactions easily.

Why is it that there is always the distance between? That there is a divide. That I come too close, encroach too near for your comfort. Am I such a freak that you find me a repulsive disease?

Why do I want to be this careless all the time? Why do I have to be giving out free affections and get now deep rejections? Why do I always end up looking like the clumsy fool try hard wannabe?

Why did my Dad whip me and tie me to a tree? Why did he strip me naked and humiliate me in front of the women in my family? Why did he hurl boiling soup at me just because we lost a stupid single penny carelessly? Why did he have to name me his good-for-nothing son? Why did he kick me up the stairs like an unwanted dog and still drag me to work the fields with the rest of his slaves? Why did he abuse me further after knowing I had been the target of school bullies? Why did my Dad not protect me? Why has he never defended me? Why does he always leave me feeling threatened and in danger of losing my life?

And now I am still the freak of the week and I am supposed to forgive.

Why is there so much ridiculous meaninglessness when a home is supposed to be a place of love?

Offline

It's a sticky one. This web of relations, loved ones and this commune. I don't know, I don't know, I don't fucking know. I wish I fucking knew. So that packages could be delivered and answered questions could be ticked off and everyone can scratch the curious itch.

But I don't and for the love of God, I wish I did.

And for the hope of light at the end of the tunnel, many have risen up in anger. Wrath comes knocking at my door, wanting to drive out the poison they see, pick out the plank in my eye, send me some potion that might possibly make it better or make it worse.

I sound calm for stoicism works best to keep us all under the alarm.

I can't live in captivity anymore. It's already eating me alive and voices come relentless like the speed of sound. I need to silence every audible opinion, every note that wants to sway and shuffle me side to side. I still don't know what it is, just stop asking and let me come out in my own time.

Sound of Silence

It's empty. A house. A room. Another room. I've been here before. Too many times. Now tears dried inside and out. No more pearls to leave it out. The anguish still rusting away. The salt still eating away at the wound left festering. I want to be better than this. I want to be stronger than this. Not just some stoic quick fix.

The pendulum swings from left to right, side to side, counting the hours and minutes and seconds ticking away. Like an old man in a wheelchair, gazing across the empty green, longing, yearning. Wanting. Waiting.

Images of a laughing living room. TV ablaze, water boiling. Random questions and guesses at play. Life at large, an imaginary fireplace. I could go find another you. Another set of teeth to sink into. Another similar ground to tread on. But it's not the same.

The scent of you has left the floor, the building. I can't remember how it goes. All the rhythm and drama, the annoying fan in the other room. I wish I was never here. Never crossed your mind. Never fell into your line of sight. I wish I could disappear and you would forget me. That it would be so much more convenient. All this resurfacing. Things you can do without. I would remove every postcard I sent you. Take down every moment that remind you. Burn away all my hopes and dreams. Fade into the night so I can get out off the back of your mind forever. I never intended to be your distraction. That little annoying kid brother. I never wanted to take up space. I never would have let my heart be moved to lay it down for you. Why am I still so naive to love with all my heart and soul?

Take this breath from me and let me sleep and never wake. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

catch

everything here reeks of pain. dried blood, fresh blood, bad blood. i rammed my head too hard against this wall, now its broken and bruised. all swollen over my eye, blinding. have mercy on me, my God.

they say love language is the one thing that is your downfall. wish they would all shut up and make this a simple life. why is it so hard and complicated? i just want to make peace. i am sick and tired of these gall stones wearing me out. the sun has gone down and my evening light is fading out.

hide me in your love. bring me to my knees. heal me of this eager apathy. heal me and shelter me from it all. as i lay my heart out in the open sun and let the crows peer through. as i lay it all down, may pain be underneath my threshold. may death come quick and deadly. may life continue for the ones i love with all that i have left.

there is not enough room in this world to contain this love. catch me when i fall.

slam

This is not a fucking storehouse you fucking piss of shit!

I cried out in my sleep as the door slammed shut 20 minutes later. I could not help but pound the walls hard with my fist and head till something inside started to break and bleed. I don't know why I am so primal again. I don't want the sun to go down on my anger. But I am seething.

Why did I call on you as my flesh and blood and grafted myself now too deep I am buried under sheets of your snow glacier and ungrace? Rejection is a tough bitch. That words mean so much more to me is the poison that now I seem to find wordlessness. Empty, shut out because it seems you will fumble with your brashness. Silent and restrained because you might just hit my spots with your tough stains. That it is turning up the heat because no elements are added, replenished. That this heat is quite latent, symptoms of winter and a stubborn snow storm that refuses to go away. That when the sun comes out, some kind of implosion is waiting to happen.

And I'm sitting like a time bomb waiting to happen. I would rather die than to wait. I would rather disappear from the face of the earth, so your life becomes a little more convenient. So you can do as you please. So you can take your wares anywhere you want. So that your secrets go unnoticed and buried with me in the grave. Is this how love lays it all down for a life to go so a life can learn to be wise and grow in stature?

Let me go down for I cannot seem to let go. Come home, my brother, everyone here misses you.

scratch

stitch and match, it sounds like a severe lack. my heart is wearing out, thinning, losing strength to continue this long ascent. the steps are steep and sharp. is this a slow death, that someday this heart will stop bleeding? the winter cold is slowly drawing back it's breath and the terrains are melting away flake by flake. as the pain resurfaces from these months of nocturn and the red well up like dangerous signs on the roadmap. how much can man be a machine until he drops a sudden death?

i watched as the floor general, my brother, shed blood. how choices became the fall subjected to fathers and leaders' chide. still waiting, still waiting for the penny to drop. still waiting for him to turn around. some things take a long time to change and i look on with abated patience, waiting out the rain, waiting out the storm, waiting for the prodigal to come home like a greying father on the wooden mouldy steps.

every tree in sight is lined with a yellow ribbon. round every oak tree, hope hangs waiting for redemption.

need you more than ever, God, if you are who you say you are.

war cry

what if I stumble?
what if I fall?
what if the cracks show
from the pressure inside?

will you hear my cry
will you save me day by day
will you inspire me every moment
will you strengthen me every waking hour?

for it seems my dark is eating away
at the seams of my knitted being
that any moment i may fall from grace
if this foot but slips on this tight rope regime

lord let your grace be ever enough
let your presence ever abide
let my heart ever be attentive
ever trusting in your time and favour

courage now come like a lion's hide
war, it brews in the far horizon ahead
fighting for my heart space, robbing of grace
gird me now, father, come what may

Expectant

Is it just an expectation? Something I have unwittingly given myself over and chained myself, stuck like a kite on a rain tree? What does this all mean? Why am I still searing in pain? The longing for male companionship and the strength and scent that only a brother could give. The absence makes my heart grow faint. The shoulder removed too quick, too soon, too fast and too brutal. This absence should make me fonder, as it should be, but it is not.

Truth is, no one has left. No one has said anything about walking away. But, it feels like everything is falling apart. It feels like I am losing my place as little brother, riding on the back of the motor bike, peering through the cracks of the worn out helmet passed on from experienced riders, resting my tired head on the strong shoulders of the warrior I trust.

There is a pain glowing inside. A numb that throbs and ticks away. Wounds left from the roots that got pulled out along with these incidental social graces. Words spat out unwittingly, carelessly. Words spun at the speed of sound. Words that created that sonic implosion. I am still finding my strength to pick up the pieces. Still finding my hands and feet. Still aching and trodding on. Still believing despite these sword marks and cuts on the palm on my hands. Still wanting. Still in need. Of love. Of embrace. Of assurance. Of bits and bytes and little things that look my way, makes my day, keeps me away from the blade for just another day.

Is it just my expectations? Or is there something more?

You Know My Evey Moment
You Calm My Raging Seas
You Walk With Me Through Fire
You Heal All My Disease

I Trust In You
I Trust In You

I Believe You're My Healer
I Believe You Are All I Need

I Believe You're My Fortress
I Believe You're More Than Enough For Me
Jesus You're All I Need

falling from the creek

There is a hole in my heart. A gaping wound that never quite recovered from the botch job surgery. What was I signing up for at Easter 2006? My alter ego trying to now take over. Perhaps this is just my way of seperating what is really the issue. How stoic. What am I and why am I like that? Now it seems I am surrounded by these alternative choices seeming to look the greener grass.

Part of me wants to walk away. Believe that there is nothing more. That this removed hope has given me nothing but grief. Given me a wet pillow to rest upon. Created a hole in my heart. How can I deal with this? Me, a recovering cardiac arrest patient? I don't know what to do for i am locked in this tandem of a face that does not budge.

Have mercy. Have mercy on me.

Hear My Cry

God. You who made it all possible. This answered prayer. Comes not without anguish and struggle. Why do you still want to put me through this and have me suffer inside for it? Am I not Your favoured son? Do I not deserve your grace, favor? Why does my eye fix on these things that pass, these seeming things that I am constantly striving for? Brothers too good for me to name. Fathers too noble for me to give of my loyalty. Lovers too awesome for my muddy hands to hold. Am I not your favored son? For why is this always a recurring theme, so they all say, that I am still stuck in this test tube. I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to redeem my ticket and ride out of here, out of this storm, out of these shadows that laugh and challenge my confidence. I am tired of playing it all. I just want to rest, find my head a nook to secure, give my soul a season to breathe, drink deep of these human conditions that will make me whole again. God. Do not forsake me. Do not let my bleeding heart freeze in this cold again. I hate to be like this. All this whining and crying. All this that makes a man less than a whimp to behold. Where is the general? Where is the warrior boy? For all I see is still that little beggar kid selling matches, 20cts a stick. I want to bring him a blanket. I want to bring him a warm body hug. I want to bring him to the fire place and listen to his story. I want to learn to be a father to this lost cause that the world has forgotten about. Do not toy with me. God. Do not lead my heart on with these fellow human beings whom you made in your image to keep us all company. Hear my cry, my father. Hear my last breath for reconciliation. Hear my spirit ache and whimper in pain all through the night. Come rescue me, bind up my wounds with your warriors, fathers, mighty men who are willing to sweep over swiftly, an apprentice for a king, to watch the world from the safe hands and lap of a soft strong voice. Give me the tender mercies of a father. Give me the resolve and warm embrace of a brother. So I can grow out of my test tube days. Incubate me no more with these cold winter blues. Melt away all my troubles. For I want to be whole, whole like it is meant to be.