goodbye (part I) the ending

chadwick

i need a rest, a break from the craziness that is where my life has taken me. no safety in all the eyes seen or pictured. the lost shadows have found me not myself even when directly in front of or near my bathroom mirror. my candles do not belong to me i am owned by them, each one and unlit. and in this naked and broken wilderness i am vacant and closeby as i am the wilds, simply a broken tree. every cliff laced with aviator acrobatic stuntsmen daring me to jump yet i am terrified of heights but they scream it is beautiful and that it will stop my painful days and nights.

my bed reminds me of loneliness crazed or otherwise. this ancient warmth is blanketed and cushioned by used up fashioned clutter all the while arachnids judge my dreaming skull and whispering chest. they say i cannot be in this cacoon without having manufactured my very own stone sarcophagus, my internal sanctuary. this heavy forever emplacement has devoured my ending soon than later.

i'd rather just ride away than melt into my great tomb yet my skin frozen and my shooting star or meteor shower has passed me by without looking back and i am as alone as a barbwire fence rusting into the countryside wrapped around hedge posts when every once in awhile a pheasant, owl, or fawn graze me with their feathers or fur and i am once again born with almost a smile. this my feeling of no sunshine or darkness but rather nothing at all, no color, no sound, no air nor raindrops solid or fragmented.

it is as if i am a tortured ghostly figure. my hands as numb as a church bell after several minutes of doing what bells do. this is the completion of who i am. no more giant fan motor in the mine that has taken me under skyward and beyond has already pictured me as forgotten and before desperation. this is not where rainbows glare nor jump with children and trout but rather wait for nothing forever as avoidance has detoured the great length of ages.

somehow i have been placed into the direct center of chaos with or without this or that. what i need in a friend's hand has been replaced by burning wings taking me underneath my own capacity to breathe. and in this empty chamber of hundreds of thousands of forgotten suns and tortured moons

ago never to have followed me nor will ever

brianlux

Excellent, Chadwick, excellent!

supersonicyears

Beautiful! Now go get your knees fixed!

justam

This one is very emotional in a heavy way. Thanks for sharing it with us.

If I had a poetic response for such a serious mood,

I'd remind you that the mere air passing in and out of your lungs is life and as long as you have your life you have potential to move in a new direction or make adjustments in your perception or in your thought rooms. At any moment you can rip out the old paper blocking the light. You can get a hammer or a drill and make holes in the floor. You can kick down the doors if the hinge won't move. There's always some repair that can be done!

Don't lose hope! As long as you're alive, something can be done.

That's my serious reminder to you. :geek:

catefrances

awesome. :thumbup:

rollings

chadwick said:

i need a rest, a break from the craziness that is where my life has taken me. no safety in all the eyes seen or pictured. the lost shadows have found me not myself even when directly in front of or near my bathroom mirror. my candles do not belong to me i am owned by them, each one and unlit. and in this naked and broken wilderness i am vacant and closeby as i am the wilds, simply a broken tree. every cliff laced with aviator acrobatic stuntsmen daring me to jump yet i am terrified of heights but they scream it is beautiful and that it will stop my painful days and nights.

my bed reminds me of loneliness crazed or otherwise. this ancient warmth is blanketed and cushioned by used up fashioned clutter all the while arachnids judge my dreaming skull and whispering chest. they say i cannot be in this cacoon without having manufactured my very own stone sarcophagus, my internal sanctuary. this heavy forever emplacement has devoured my ending soon than later.

i'd rather just ride away than melt into my great tomb yet my skin frozen and my shooting star or meteor shower has passed me by without looking back and i am as alone as a barbwire fence rusting into the countryside wrapped around hedge posts when every once in awhile a pheasant, owl, or fawn graze me with their feathers or fur and i am once again born with almost a smile. this my feeling of no sunshine or darkness but rather nothing at all, no color, no sound, no air nor raindrops solid or fragmented.

it is as if i am a tortured ghostly figure. my hands as numb as a church bell after several minutes of doing what bells do. this is the completion of who i am. no more giant fan motor in the mine that has taken me under skyward and beyond has already pictured me as forgotten and before desperation. this is not where rainbows glare nor jump with children and trout but rather wait for nothing forever as avoidance has detoured the great length of ages.

somehow i have been placed into the direct center of chaos with or without this or that. what i need in a friend's hand has been replaced by burning wings taking me underneath my own capacity to breathe. and in this empty chamber of hundreds of thousands of forgotten suns and tortured moons

ago never to have followed me nor will ever

Bells are you tho

rollings

my shooting star or meteor shower has passed me by without looking back and i am as alone as a barbwire fence rusting into the countryside wrapped around hedge posts when every once in awhile a pheasant, owl, or fawn graze me with their feathers or fur and i am once again born with almost a smile. this my feeling of no sunshine or darkness but rather nothing at all, no color, no sound, no air nor raindrops solid or fragmented.