toxic chocolate

a headache kept me in bed longer than usual. the cats were annoyed and would not let me sleep very long. was it the weather or did I need coffee? I was having terrible dreams where someone stole my bicycle and some big kids wanted to rough me up. they chased me up several flights of stairs after I came last in an ultramarathon. I think it was all the peppermint bark and chocolate, gone toxic to my system. choctox syndrome got me down. I’m pulling out all the stops. no more ovaltine in my coffee.

Advertisements

wild. vast disinterest

Yes i tire
of a selfish
liar

i wanna set something
afire and do

these words
blaze out
the woods
where you
lost me

left me
to clarify
my grave
indifference

i pick the line between us
and raze your toxic
charming

asserting my
wild
     vast
disinterest

yes…
it is alarming

what was home

for a while all i wanted was space. and
silence. city sound became punishing,
like the thoughts i had toward myself.
against myself. i hoped for a quiet place,
where i might sit with my self and work
out these difficult fears and feelings
running me down relentlessly.

i hated myself into many panics. i let
myself be used. sometimes the hope
was two negatives would lead a positive
charge. this method was in the end,
mostly madness. i was no good at
chemistry. but i thought i could run a
current across my life.

prayer was ineffectual, in a time of
spiritual deficit. i might try to pray. i was
sincere. it came off bad. i could not often
sit still unless i was terrified or sleeping.
and i wasn’t often either of those.

i could not quiet the city sounds. the
cars, trucks, helicopters, voices yelling
laughing screaming crying. trains.
fireworks. motorcycles. gunshots. car
accidents.

broken glass.

radios, televisions. doors. moving trucks.
dogs, cats, animals. freight loading,
unloading. babies. car tires. speakers.
chains. subwoofers. arguments. fights.
broken glass. screen doors.
ambulances. basketballs. sirens. kids.
deadbolts.

landlords, tenants, junkies going through
withdrawals, laughter, mania. strange
unearthly sounds. manias. depressive
wailings. loud silences in certain bad
places. soundless muted murder. dead
silence. followed by violent storms of
cacophonous cackling and butchering of
the english or other language.

blank loud stares.

i found myself holding my
breath.peeking through keyholes.
wondering if i was next.

the law would come in, or a rent-a-cop.
you could tell by the sound of the walk
who was walking

by

the weight of the belt, the holster, gun,
taser, keys. maybe it was just a maid or
maintenance man.

i was often pacing or waiting for my
number to come up. still distant. still
hoping for a little space. quiet space. my
internal would not have known what to
do with it, though.

maybe push me more violently into
thanatos gulch. or mad river quarry. the
depths of which could not be fathomed
by the human eye.

yes i certainly knew how bad a toll i had
taken, how violently my bell had been
rung, when, long after i let the
burgeoning toxicity overtake me in that
urban nightmare reality

pale and sick and past caring, angry and
helpless to my reactive emotional.sad
and skinny and losing my faith…

god gave me a chance to come up for
air, in a little rented motel room some do
gooder rented me, away from the urban
amorphous ink night. and what did i do?
after jumping for joy? i got so depressed
like never before. i lay down and slept for
two days and three nights…

then got up to such a madness, without
thinking, movement away from that
taciturn moment, quiet little retreat from
my quiet retreat, orchestral movements
in the light, pumping my legs by my feet
on the pedals

screaming silently back to oakland from
richmond, knowing the strange beauty in
another terrible mistake, feeling the
electric storm of old oakland overtake
me, all the cacophonous sounds pooled
into one current

coming across my body

high voltage seizing me all over again.
the smell of homeless teenage angst
wrapping around me like blanket with its
piss warmth mental poverty

addictive, additive recycled air, oozing
with traffic remoulade, parsed with law
enforcement, sprinkled with social
services, crusted with age-old
desperations

i smiled and forgot myself again. lost my
self in the insanity, cause this was home

by K @ katyamills.com