Cataclysmic Verse

Sometimes you no longer want to dance Not only because you’re tired— but because you realize that the dance isn’t worth it.

The music sours. The facade drops and you find—mid-step— that what you’ve been working toward the whole time was just a farce.

You exposed yourself on the dancefloor of life, played the game and lost— and now, you wonder:

Was it all worth it?

Why does my heart tell me that I’m in love with a near stranger— Someone who shut the door the moment I knocked?

My brain knows the truth; It understands I was rejected. Yet my heart stands in the hallway And refuses to accept the rescinded invitation.

It’s cold out here, And the ego hurts Along with the heart— The pain is piercing, As if it were stabbed With an ice pick.

Occasionally, my brain— Despite knowing better— Joins in with the questioning, Asking the ruminating questions of why?

Tina Marie

I am not proud of what I am going through.

There are days I beat myself over the head

because I should have known better.

I feel as if I have been here before,

but in the past, I was financially on top.

I was able to say goodbye

and never worry about being homeless.

Every day I struggle with thoughts of giving up.

I do not feel strong.

I am constantly breaking eggshells

because I refuse to navigate the maze.

How did I let it get so bad?

By the time I realized what had happened,

I was already trapped.

This does not feel like survival.

It feels like absurdity.

Tina Marie

They put political power in the barrel of a gun,[1]

placed it in your hands when you were barely an adult,

and expected you to carry

the weight of the world on your shoulders.

They forged you into steel,

forgetting that steel still cracks when frozen.

The battlefield changed,

but the war never ended.

A long march through a quiet wasteland.[2]

You traded your rifle for a different weapon

and in doing so shone a light on the core of the beast.

But to be radical is to grasp the root—

and the root is the flesh and bone of man.[3]

To look at the ruins of what the “stinking corpse” ravaged

and find the iron will to start over,

from the beginning, over and over again[4]—

a noble cause to try and right the wrongs

that an Empire thrust upon the world.

The Empire wasn’t meant to be fought alone though.

Lenin proclaimed,

“Give us an organization of revolutionaries,

and we will overturn the whole of Russia!”[5]

Tina Marie

References:

Mao Zedong, “Problems of War and Strategy” (November 6, 1938), Selected Works of Mao Tse-tung, Vol. II.

Mao Zedong, “The Long March” (October 1935), Poems, Selected Works of Mao Tse-tung.

Karl Marx, “A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right: Introduction” (1844), Marx-Engels Collected Works, Vol. 3.

Vladimir Lenin, “Notes of a Publicist” (February 1922), Lenin’s Collected Works, Vol. 33, pp. 204–211.

I couldn't understand the crumbs or the pebbles;

I mistakenly thought they were the only way you could handle me–in bits and pieces.

For fear you'd reject the real me, I ended up wearing a mask–

in hopes of being what you wanted.

But then I became selfish and wanted more.

More of your attention. More of your time.

Belatedly, I realized that I was projecting.

That I really wasn't wanted.

I didn't intend to disrupt;

I only wanted to stay close,

in the only way I could.

If I ever hurt you,

I sincerely apologize.

I could write until my hand falls off Hold my breath until I turn blue Yet none of it will stop the noise in my head.

I want to yell. To throw things. But I’d probably miss my target, When it’s my own skull I’d be aiming for.

I’m tired of blogging in hopes of healing— because it’s the same shit running through my mind. Day after day. 

Tina Marie

Why do I keep doing this to myself? Am I just a glutton for punishment, Or is Thanatos pulling the strings again? The relentless urge to self-destruct, As if I get pleasure from the never-ending pain.

I’ve never touched hard drugs before, But here I am, nursing these self-inflicted wounds. They call it intermittent reinforcement, A science that casts me as a fool.

I’d rather have a steady drip of the stuff Than this erratic fix that leaves me craving.

A fortress needs a deterrent  to be effective– against enemies, real or imagined.

You can dig a moat, but if you don’t stock it with piranha,  someone will swim across eventually.

You can raise a wall,  but without spikes on the stone  or armed guards on the parapet walk,  someone will climb it.

A watchpoint is useless  when the guard on duty  refuses to acquire the target.

You can wear the uniform  as if it were armor,  but underneath it  you’re still defenseless.

Tina Marie

I’m alive—not because I want to be, but because something makes me.

Was it something I was born with? I was supposed to be stillborn.

Am I just chicken— or am I too stubborn?

I don’t know whether to be upset, or whether I should be grateful.

I don’t know what to think, so for now I exist.

Tina Marie

It’s not that I mind being alone, In fact, I love my solitary time— Doing as I want by myself, Without any interruptions.

It’s just, once in a while, would be nice To have someone to distract me With conversations about mutual interests; Someone else who also likes their solitude, But wants to break things up occasionally.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t you.

Tina Marie

When the weight in your chest matches the storm on your face, and it feels as if your heart is about to drop out of your ribs and strike the floor with a thud as loud as your tears— that’s when you know you’re broken.

You try to freeze it, stop it, outthink it. As if you didn’t already know how these things end. As if the world ever promised anything kinder.

In a place where hearts are rare, you were cursed with one.

Tina Marie