Zen Curious

People don’t always want to hear the truth,

Yet they condition you to lie by punishing honesty.

You try to contort your tongue

but your words come out slurred,

A lie by omission is still a lie though

And so,

You simply disengage, believing in neither their truth nor their lie

They label you that which they are

You move beyond their stories,

You choose to be free instead

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Out of sight, memories of you fade faster

If I never see you, you will be completely erased.

Change the tone of my internal tyrant’s voice and I am deflated

No one else hears my torment and maybe that makes a difference.

I live for the silence of this midnight hour,

It has been loud so long, I relish the temporary bittersweet relief

too fleeting are those moments of blissful serenity.

I unwind slowly, torturously

The soft hum of the blower fan

whispers soothing encouragements to be at ease, to feel appeased

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I burned the carrots again tonight

this happens when I am sleep deprived.

I unsubscribed from the programs also tonight

A casual breakdown that looks meek and compliant.

I close my eyes

Yearning for the lumpiness of your uncomfortable pillow

You say I’ve never look more honest as I do when undone, as I do this moment

I blink too slowly

I pause too dully

You may be right,

A small shiver races down my right shoulder

I reach for your containment

and you bring me more words.

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Push everything aside today,

all day, all night

and drown myself in this virtuous sedative.

While the world praises my dedication

I forget my rules, I forget my roles

If only during these blissful hours

Be only me,

be all of me unencumbered by the suits I dutifully wear and perform.

Breathe in this cleansing emptiness and be fully honest with myself by myself

Goosebumps on my soul,

Quick shiver as serenity settles in my bones

This is what home feels like

A focused silence, a complete forgetting

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The sound of my voice,

the perpetual supplicant begging for life to:

choose me, choose me, breathe through me.

Truth is not always powerful and

Power is mostly subjective

Feelings are the most powerful,

yet even they are easily suppressed.

Life is a very practical matter

foolish of us to idealize or evangelize its rules.

Upon this death of virtues claiming my desiccated soul, who am I to interfere?

Pray to saviors either absent or silent

Looking for coherence in the random patterns I perceive

I am on my knees,

I am supine,

I open my heart to a void shunning my devotion

I petition, I beseech, I crawl

Looking for an idol to whom I can offer my devotion

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In the aftermath of the gaslighting and the scapegoating

there is little comfort in sitting alone with truth and pain

Isolated, unsupported.

When the trigger dies, the void fills with uncertainty, doubts

Lost becoming a loyal companion.

Living with drama not of my creating

Winning at games I did not invent

Using borrowed tools to craft this temporary shelter

A moment becoming a month becoming a decade

A soul becoming a solitary soldier,

settled in the peace of this solitude,

settled in the quiet of this tranquil mind

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Inhale deeply

Fill myself with more space, I am full of Grace.

Time and depth have dimensions, force and vitality

I embody them poorly.

Being in the world

but hiding in plain sight,

cowering from the light of the sun.

Three days

to make or lose a miracle

to gain a new perspective and birth a life

or drown in the beautiful black of chaos, the dark of my feminine.

Bravery came, left my grounds freshly tilled and fertile

My future remains untested, potential in perpetual waiting.

The many roles shape me,

I don’t exert my will

and so it isn’t so.

When people pity you,

they watch you walk into an abyss then cry with you from their safe and steady perch,

their salty tears only sting your wounds.

How do they help me when they call my name?

Inhale deeply, fill myself with space

the calm, the quiet,

grind all the parts into dust, smoke, gray

everything fades

release a good long, slow exhale

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got what I wanted today and didn’t realize

I try to keep up

the days, the minutes, the special moments

they wedge between the crevices in my mind

catch between my molars when I bite down desperate to hold on

I can’t keep up with myself

I can’t quite harmonize with myself

And hm…

If I could just… if I could just…

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Not connected to God,

Not connected to Love,

Not connected to Family,

Not connected to Church,

Not connected to Community,

Not connected to Work;

There is a kind of connection in all of this not-connecting

A connection to lack

lighter for this not knowing

empty, untethered

simultaneously free and damned

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I know the secret of words but can’t quite share it eloquently;

it doesn’t rhyme.

* It is confusing and plain wrong when evil people do brilliant and beautiful things, isn’t it?

* Never be kind to inconsiderate people,

they can’t help abusing till draining, till only resentment is left.

* What kind of world are we living in if you can’t buy love with a couple of million bucks?

* I live in a neighborhood where we only know the name of each other’s pets, “sweetie”

they are awfully friendly, though, those pooches and kittens.

* Do you ever wake up so tired that you don’t just need a good night’s sleep,

you needed to have made better choices in the past so that your life would have been radically different on this and subsequent eves.

* While my cousin was busy building a kingdom

I was busy failing at kicking some very destructive habits.

* Sedation with selfish bad lovers,

the pursuit of obscure, intellectual quests;

nothing scares you more than when you don’t recognize yourself during a moment of ecstasy.

* There is no point in venting, in seeking a type of useless validation

I’m losing my voice due to neglect.

*

Nothing is a viable substitute for vibrant love

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This day has been too long,

I say too often,

and time runs in random cycle.

No words flowed today, not even a trickle of sour angst

My lips are dry, my throat is parched

no speaking, no receiving

My mind a dessert, too arid

I feel forsaken

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the thoughts escape me right now

It happens sometimes

It happens more and more lately

a loosing of the last practical thread

Nothing can be a viable substitute for this bond

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It happens sometimes

too tired to grab the inspired words that constantly trickle or flow

Even my rage is tired

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I haven’t been myself in a long time now,

and

some versions of myself, I absolutely don’t listen to.

There are these thoughts, sometimes I just can’t shake them:

Why does my mind’s maleficent mirror always tell me that I am hideous?

That affection I feel, too long unrequited

This closeness I crave, too long denied

This need, this need

In the fist of my hand I try to trap my thirst

I’m losing the thread that tethers to sweet serenity

I need a stability, a solid rock to ground from, to spring from

A vessel, a containment,

A warm embrace, a steady hold to smother my restlessness

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