Uncomfortably Numb

I am numb
yet I feel everything so powerfully
so deeply
that my bones ache
and my veins throb
and my head weighs down my fragile neck

I am numb
and I know not how much more I can take
how much more these shoulders can carry
and these hands can grasp
that have lived to see so many days
but have never felt alive

Like November

You were dark
like a crisp November day
cold and beautiful and confident
touching me from the inside out
and oh how good it felt to have you in my head
to hear your voice call me baby
to hold your icy hands
knowing this could not last forever
but you were never meant to be permanent

Temporary

Temporary;
Quick and painful
like the way you went from
holding my hand to
holding my throat
like the instant joy and
sadness you could make me
feel
turning me on
and off like a light switch
like the hole
your absence punched into
my heart
when I only wanted
your presence
and all that I had ever felt
came bursting through the flood gates

Temporary;
Short and sweet
like the way your lips wrote
love poems on my
neck and left me
breathless
like the sound of your
tired voice calling
me ‘baby’
like the fire you
lit in my
heart that tried to
keep me warm

Temporary;
Like the way you
said you loved me
that never had
me convinced

Thoughts before I drift off to sleep

I lay here
wishing this sheet
wrapped around me were
your arms
and this deafening
silence was filled
with the gentle caress
of your breath
yet all I am left
with is this paralyzing
wave of emptiness
and the
willingness
to find
comfort in this
relentless instability

A Weight of its Own

I used to feel an aching sorrow
in my chest
as if every mistake I had ever
made had been piled on top
of me

and although I have since been
relieved of that weight
I do no feel light
I do not feel free
Like a soaring bird heading
to find warmth

all I feel is anticipation
for a journey to a
destination I am still
uncertain of
and that is a weight
of its own

Red

I am red,
like an ambitious flame,
angry and rising
and my voice echoes
loudly,
demanding to be
heard over the
endless whispers and
incessant cries
that fill the void in my mind.
I am fire,
like the crackling of burning wood and
long forgotten letters.
I am heartbreak,
I am passion,
I am rage,
and I tear the world apart
with my pen.

Inconsistency

It comes in bursts,
like the rising and falling
of a fickle storm
with no end or
destination,
and like a storm
It is wet and violent,
treacherous to
those nearby
and beautiful to those
who watch from
their windows,
blissful and far removed.
Sometimes I seek comfort
in the storm;
in the rage, the tears,
the spiraling thoughts
and emptiness I do not
wish to feel, yet
it is all I have ever
felt. And we all
cling to the familiar.

First Degree

This emptiness
this agonizing ache
I cannot manage
to rid myself of
keeps it hand
firmly planted on
my shoulder
always there to
remind me of
every knife you twisted
deeper and deeper into
my spine
turning my mind
into a slab of paralyzed matter,
where it is cold and numb
and dead
and the worms have
already begun to make
their homes.
And I still cannot
fathom why I
needed to be stabbed
at all.

Seed of Hate

I have seen the likes of men like you, who walk here on the shore

I have seen the way you fan yourselves as you dance from door to door

And in spite of all the hate I muster in my heart so small

There is nothing I would rather do than crush the seed of all

 

I have seen the hearts you stomp on as you hold you heads up high

I have seen the flags you wave around as they billow in the night

And no matter how the anger flows inside me, I stand tall

There is nothing I would rather do than crush the seed of all

 

I have seen the captured souls of men who lay there still this night

I have seen the fellows bleed there in the cold and quiet light

And regardless of their injuries, I have done no wrong at all

There is nothing I would rather do than crush the seed of all

 

Depersonalized

I am but a window
and my eyes only see
what they want me to see
and while your words effect this body,
this heart has very carefully shut itself away.
I watch myself live my life as a passive viewer,
an uninterested audience member
and only occasionally do I stop to question if this is reality
when I feel as if I am only a pawn in a video game,
alive but not quite living

Hyperallergic

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"I have loved the stars too fondly, to be fearful of the night."

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

Welcome to my world of weirdness.