173)
I never read my old journals,
or look back, or more to the point
after I hit the magic “send” button,
my aim is to let this go, or publish,
or send my thoughts elsewhere;
as if to take on an action
of letting go
or rid myself from the unwanted items
in my heart, or as a means
to release my sentiments that need to go
or stay, or as a means to claim my place
in this world, as I know it
or as I want to be seen;
I “put it out there,” as I have been told.
I hit the “send” button to let my ideas go
into the mystery of the universe
and hope that somehow
this comes back to me
in the best way possible.
I have been doing this for years
as a sign of hope,
or as a commitment to myself
and to find my way
before my soul seems too lost to be found,
or to rid myself from the nonsense
and brush away the mental
or the emotional plaque
that can build in the soul;
I have been working
at this idea of mine, for quite some time.
My idea is to come here
and to remove the unwanted thoughts
and gather my dreams
to make them real.
I have been coming here for years
and working on this thing
which is me, which are my dreams
and my hopes, my aspirations,
and I have been coming here
for years to remove myself
from the burdens of my past
as well as my mistakes,
because we live in a world
where people feed on our mistakes
like a predator would look
to feed on the meat of the lamb
and yes, I come here to find salvation too,
like a lamb amongst wolves.
I look to find salvation
from the inaccurate concepts
of self.
I come here, despite the lonesomeness
or despite the lack of support
and yes, I come here
hopefully as an artist.
and more accurately,
I come here as a writer,
or
at least this is who I want to be (someday)
a writer, as in a real one,
or as opposed to a fake one
to which I see there are so many.
I come here to ignore the critics
and the grammar police; and still,
I come here each morning
despite the lack of followers
or the lack of attention,
alone and, figuratively speaking,
I am standing on an empty stage
and while speaking to an empty room,
I still let the spotlight shine
and thus, in the quietness
of the empty seating
in this imaginary playhouse
or theater,
I stand and do something
far braver
than anything I have ever done
before.
I come here to speak,
regardless of who listens
or cares; and more,
I come here
to give myself the right to have a voice
and to speak, out loud,
even if no one listens
or if no one cares,
or even if I am alone,
I come here, to let this go,
regardless of
your acceptance
or the lack thereof.
174)
I heard a speaker tell the room
you have to treat yourself
like you love yourself.
I listened to this
and I took the words in.
I looked around at my little apartment.
I looked back
at the changes I have seen
in a short time,
and I look at the clutter
and think of the procrastinated items
or the things
that needed to be done;
yet, I see how they remain undone
and I think about the ideas
of my own trinity, as in
the mind, body
and soul.
I think about the ideas of how
we can’t be better than our thoughts
or feel better than our feelings.
and next, I think about the way
we think or feel
and how this relates to the way we act
or perform.
I see how the way we think or feel
can either build us up
or degrade us and lead us through
the downward spiral
of unhelpful assumptions.
The mind is a trick
and memory can be a liar.
We can think ourselves
into our own version of hysteria
or,
we can think about taking a new direction,
and we can think about finding
a new salvation.
We can save our own lives
each morning,
of each day
which essentially—this is why
I come here, alone or not,
to find my new salvation
or to redeem what’s left of me
so I can rebuild
and stand up to face another day.
175)
Not everyone is going to agree
or like me,
or want to be part of this journey.
Not everyone understands
and more often,
most people will not understand
or see what I see,
which doesn’t need to make us
enemies, or friends, or anything
in-between.
All this means is that we all have a path,
we all have our own way of seeing things
and we all have a journey
and as mutual travelers,
whether we walk together
or split in different directions,
or if we are destined for a similar fate,
either way, we all have our own things
that can make us crazy.
Therefore,
I say that we all need an outlet
and we all need a way
to syphon the everyday madness
and find some kind of sanity;
otherwise,
life can be crazy.
Know what I mean?
176)
I am going to end this soon.
And more to the point,
I am going to take my writing
in a new direction, which
is more for me,
than anyone else,
but then again
this is the thing about art—
Art can be lonely
or friendly
or a means to find solace
or in my case,
my art is a way
for me to justify the means to an end
or to make the ends justify the means
or even more simple,
this is what I do
to make sense of the nonsense
or to kill the boredom
or to let loose
the voices in my head.
And sure,
I hear voices sometimes—
They love to tell me,
“I told you so.”
Then again,
I don’t think I’m the only one
who hears that
internal voice.
Do you?
The Written Addiction 