Bitterness is My Name

Why am I grieving this loss I know is best?
Is it really a loss at all?
Oh the painfully human fixation of what could have been if it were just a little better...
Easier on the nervous system...

I hold her back usually, the romantic delusional one in my weary head
But I shall let her out for just a bit here...

I wish you were with me in the car...
I like the tone and cadence of your voice
So intrigued to know something more about just your type: emotionally and mentally guarded
Slow to share
I wish I could feel your hand on mine like at the movie theater
Some form of magic was there between our fingers
I wish I could have you in my bed...
Those beguiling, intoxicating bright eyes
Sober as a judge to be fully with me there as you were physically
I want to hear more of your sounds, thoughts, intense eye gazing
I want to take you to nature to reconnect you

But alas- the sickness of this world- it infects us both in different ways.
I am deeply sad I have been worn down too much to be able to help you.
But I can't anymore with someone I'm not getting through to...
Addiction and mental illness has you in its chokehold
It will make me deeply sad for a long time
In those minutes in my day I'm even able to feel superfluous things.
If this world wasn't so harsh maybe you would have been stronger...
And I would be kinder...

All of this probably some delusion in my head as I was probably little to you other than to use.

A horrifying vast sea of adult aged broken boys. Even if I extinguished myself completely with effort it wouldn't be enough to make a difference.
That is why I must bare my fangs- gleaming with self preservation

How horribly selfish your lot is trying to connect with someone like me.

I completely release the thought of you and hope for better connection sooner than later as I am weary of starvation.

I feel the darkness calling me back
It's cool hands caressing my distressed mind
Calling me back to be it's vassal
Where the only thing that will be left is fire and the space between the stars in my eyes

I tried to make myself humanistic, hopeful and soft to garner the care and affection of other humans. Seeking connection and love.
Only to be played as a pawn, ignored and even r***d.
It is clear to me now all of this was an abandonment of my divine purpose. A smothering of the only fire that has kept me alive: the wisdom of the flame of misanthropy.
I grasp my hand into the filthy human air and I never receive the comfort I look for.
That is not my place in this world.
It is to be part of the protection of the wild world and an instrument of punishment of all the vile humans who so carelessly destroy the vulnerable and everything around them.

I can't seem to stop killing myself
Liquid poison to have a good time
Always paying for it soon after
Impulsive, quick, emotionless carnal joinings
When my heart craves connection and love
Sedentary daily habits
When my body craves movement and progression
Each little betrayal adds up
No one looks out for me and I don't even look out for myself
Not in any meaningful way
Except survival
I guess that's what this sad slow su***de of my heart is
Survival
The lack of belief anything will come along to fufill what my deepest self desires
There seems to be little left but these self su***des of a thousand cuts

My Parts

The protector
The manager
The inner child

The protector, a fearsome creature who's scream shakes my own bones
To find self I was told to ask them to wait somewhere pleasant while I take a walk alone with all of them blended out of my psyche

The protector was the one who was unsurprisingly most vehement and seemingly violent at my request
Nay, violent she is not. Dedicated, loyal, war torn, scarred and scared she is.
Her entire gaunt body shows the gruesome marks from her lifelong service of protecting me from the horrors of life. A physical representation of my emotional landscape. The incessant crazed look in her faded eye like a vengeful fire from her perceived failings.
Determined to destroy anything she needs to never fail again.
Jet black tangled hair down to her waist from exhuming me multiple times
She's so beautiful even as gruesome as some might find her form or the violence from her voice
When I ask her to trust me that my self can take a walk without her screams to shake the mountains deafen me with harsh words telling me how idiotic and ungrateful I am to ask her to stay.
My inner child, blonde little girl who's been emotionally and physically abandoned her entire life on and off.
Tears welling up in her eyes from sitting on the ground in the plants happily a second before- before I even close my mouth from the sentence.
Afraid of the final abandonment of the self.
I go and scoop her up in my arms cooing to her and wiping her tears telling her I can't ever abandon her because she's me. That protector will hold her while I'm on my walk to hear from the universe where the forest, mountains and lake meet. The protector berating me in hopes her harsh words will actually get through. Forever angry from feeling unheard. Her anger is immensely powerful. I hug all of them together and invite the manager already looking stressed with her arms crossed in the background.
"This is my most precious form. Protecting her is protecting me in the most vital sense." I say to the protector frozen in my embrace.
I gesture with my eyes for her to stop yelling and take my inner child in her arms making sure all her copious amounts of weapons constantly strapped to her are sheathed.
The manager starts spouting off the risks and my responsibilities in a non stop run on sentence if anything were to happen. Her hair tight in a bun, eyes with fatigue bags and consuming things to cope as she speaks. Always, constantly needing to access and control. She knows no other path from our life experience.
"Thank you my parts for everything you've done for me. I know all of you have worked so hard for this self. I know you're really so exhausted. I am on my path to self empowerment. I am no longer a naive, weak and vulnerable person. You just let me walk and I want all of you to rest and look after each other. I hear all of you. I will always listen to your concerns. But you do not need to act for me. Trust in the wisdom and self work I have been pursuing and obtained.
I tell them how much I love them all and how appreciated they all are. Kissing the tops of their heads. My inner child healing from such a simple gesture.
I start on my walk and they all stare after me together fretting.
I look back at them reassure them "Trust in me, just try to enjoy yourselves my dears".
Loving reassurance is the only way to quell the violence within my self and all my traumatized parts.

I finally understand what self empowerment actually means.

I'll Never be the Right One

Maybe I will never find real love
Because I'm not the right one
That's what they say:
Everyone is trying to find the right one instead of be it
I tried
So desperately
For so many years
Just to receive lies, disloyalty and emotional neglect among the long list
A nervous system with a diagnosed fry and crash
Chronic now, what that means always seeping in more and more the years I age
I guess I'll never be the right one now
I'll never find the one thing I never really had in life with another human
Realizing I may never heal in this lifetime
Will never be the right one
Simultaneously my interest in people and "romantic" relationships wane by the day
Maybe it's because deep down
I'll never be the right one
To find the right one

As the fur on his muzzle greys, it reminds me time is passing by. That he won't be here forever and it's counting down. I fight off the mental neurosis and panic that brings as when I cut past everything, he really is my reason to live most days. To persist. To do my best (seemingly failing), to participate in capitalism and money, to provide the best I can for his needs because he deserves that and more that I can't give.
Alas, when his time has come to an end on this earth, I think any feeling of purpose, will leave with him.
I've seen mountains, rivers, oceans, deserts, waterfalls, moors, wetlands, bogs.
I've seen most if not all the landscapes of this incredible planet. I've been in love, been in pain, felt ecstasy, hurt others, drowned from the darkness in my own mind and the reality of my species.
I already know, the wound will be too great, and I will not be able to cope.
So, I shall leave too, after he has the best send off I can offer.
It will be my last lonely effort.

The narcissistic assailant
Dropping four letter bombs
They exploded now and not even hot air was found inside.
Swollen with meaningless and absolutely empty.
A foul manipulation played in your favor
Against a deeply wounded heart
Who's gut instinct was right all along.

Lost to time, space, all sense of life
Running, running, running
Running from pain
Running from my ruined nervous system
Running from memories
Running from repetition
Running from disappointment
Running in hopes of something better
Running from insanity
Dragging along innocents that are simply grateful to be alive
Fine to be where we were
Running from it, but it's all inside me
Broken brain wanting to not be defiled while frozen
So keep moving
Keep moving
Keep running
To prove to yourself you can.
Will it end?
It has to
You're wearing thin
Stop being so selfish.
The grass is the same color just a different shade of disappointment
You're still alone and lost
Associating with nothing serious
Belong no where
Existential dread
Still have no direction on what even is the point of life.
What is the FU***NG POINT OF ALL OF THIS?!
The idea of better is minutia.

Avoid Seperate Re-sort

And when I talk to you again
I close my eyes after and can see her screaming
Thrashing in the numb void
I created to contain her
To exist in comfortable numbness
As no pain seems to ever be resolved
Just faded and re sorted
The body that's used and not loved
The mind never even given a thought
Separated hormone compulsion from the idea of romantic unity
Out of survival.
Out of survival...

The Breath of Fire

I know you mean to breathe combusting energy- producing cleansing fire into me oh wisest of the dark horses.
Goetic dark demon horse the wisest of hoofed generals
I met you in a dream where you stood with me in the place I was deeply wounded physically and psychologically
And you, with a deep velvety black empathy tell me I am not defined of it and to rise with fire in my chest
I know you mean to breathe the fire of creation and life but I feel this burnt out tree body of mine can only hold embers and smoke...
I saw you again in the garden of my year's intention and you with your eyes of flame and dragons mouth breathed fire into me when greeting breath
I hope I can honor you and not just smoulder and smoke...

Samhain Halloween party

I want to celebrate by finding the most beautiful moonlit forest meadow and have the sensual experience of stuffing my self inflicted stab wounds made with most ornate athame with leaves and forest soil mixing with my spilling blood - so at least before I die I know there was something pure and sacred inside of me.