Manic is
A sleepless night
And singing
Wayward songs,
Talking miles to myself
And my cats
And your spectre eyes
And the wall.
Sitting still
Is not enough.
Heat rises
In the sloping heart
As it continues
Thump by thump.
Don’t go to sleep
Don’t close your eyes as
Sadness awaits
The other side.
One more cup of
Coffee please.
I grind my teeth.
I skin my knees.
Filed under Uncategorized
There was never a poem
Or sonnet
Or song
To interweave
Such a great and terrible
Sadness
As this.
It crashes
through my dreams.
It is dread itself
And sickness
And horror.
Distilled horror
Haunts my days.
There is no way
Out
Of this hell.
And hell it is.
How many poets
I wonder
Have composed
Their words
From the bowels of despair.
Square houses and square beds,
Corners a hindrance to karma’s flow,
We try to escape the coming blow,
But we are delaying the enevitable
Just long enough to enjoy this day,
,
When tomorrow comes
The pillars will bleed
And the house we built
Will be razed to dust,
All we had and all we knew
Strewn in the dirt
Like winter twigs.
So much garbage,
That’s all it is.
Bury me in drywall
And the kitchen sink.
I’ll beat karma to the punch
Middle finger held high
There will be no rest here. Horror overwhelms like nerve gas. Agent blue. Chills crawl up my spine. I’m torn between some sick elation and the monster of every day discomfort. I’m lost. Lost in my head. Lost in my books. Lost in my own house. Fear lurks in every corner. And no, the natron didn’t help. Not one bit.
I’ve become blind to responsibility. I haven’t showered in days. My stomach is as empty as my bank account, which just so happens to be in the red. I have no desire for food. I need clarity and light. These things I simply cannot locate and if I did, would I know what I had? Searing questions. Is it worth it to go on? To seek out elusive dreams? Or am I chasing nightmares? Perhaps I’m in hell. That would explain so much of what’s gone wrong. What’s still going wrong. And thus an atheist cries out to god to save him.
–J
He f
e
l
l
And f
e
l
l
And kept on falling,
[[Encased in stone and]]
[[Darkness appalling.]]
There would be
No end to the fall.
And the bottom
May not come at all.
But the fear won't relent.
It's too late to repent
When all two feet
Have stepped over the cliff___________
|
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God, how did it
Come to this?
Where did it go wrong?
Elusive hope won't show him
He's been floating all along.
A strangeness perceived
When you look in my eyes,
For behind them I am horrified.
Tears of blood streaming
And fingers wringing as voices say
“We’ll wash our hands tonight.”
For a twisted mind
It’s no surprise
That something’s wrong
Behind my eyes.
Filed under fear, hallucinations, poem, poetry
There are footprints in the snow
That lead to my home.
There are noises upstairs.
Am I really alone?
I’m easily startled,
Will this fear ever end?
A heartbeat’s my sidekick
And terror’s my friend.
Noisy ghosts and
demonic hosts
Rearrange it all.
There’s a scratching in my wall.
There’s glass on the floor.
Love has died at my front door.
Until tomorrow’s fall.
My heart is so poor,
Just a start and I’ll be gone.
To join the ghosts that lurk these halls.
I’m worried–extremely worried–about my cat, Mintkey. It started on Saturday. She slept all day. That evening I noticed that her back legs weren’t working to their full potential. She was unable to jump onto the bar, and had to climb onto a cushion only a foot off the ground.
I was alarmed. It was the weekend. There aren’t many emergency vets in this little ass-crack of the world.
Monday, she seemed to finally start to feel better, but I decided to take her anyway. Her hind legs still didn’t seem steady. She felt hot and all through Sunday, she was so weak she could barely meow. My usual choice for common ailments is a very old fashioned farm vet. He’s cheap. For Mintkey I decided to take her to a Dr. Freeman instead. More expensive, but more professional; more thorough.
Mintkey’s temperature was 105. Three degrees above the feline norm. Because Dr. Freeman couldn’t come to any decisive conclusion, he referred me to an even more expensive veterinarian: Dr. Johnson. This Dr. J has all the laboratory equipment necessary to run thousands of dollars worth of tests. I didn’t care what it cost. I had a little over a hundred bucks on me, which would have been more than enough to cover our visit with Dr. Freeman.
The first thing Dr. J did was run a test for Feline Leukemia, Feline Aids, and heart worms. All came back negative. He proceeded to give her a hefty dose of Frontline and dewormer. He had some concerns that a tick might be causing her ailments. I expressed my concerns about the new flea medicine after an earlier application of the generic stuff. He sternly replied that she would die if something wasn’t done to help her. I already knew that, but this man was serious.
(I hear he doesn’t eat lunch at the office over fears of ingesting animal hair. He won’t eat any goodies brought by clients either.)
He finished her off with a shot of antibiotic, something to bring down her fever, and a bottle of amoxicillin to be administered twice daily.
All in all, my total came to $190 bucks. That’s okay. She’s worth it. I paid what I had on me, and I’ll be returning today to cover the remaining eighty dollars.
His main concern for her was something called Feline Infectious Peritonitis. Infectious–not contagious. It’s always fatal. If the antibiotics don’t do the trick, or she doesn’t somehow get over this any other way, FIP is the most likely culprit. I fucking hate it.
I’ve been extremely torn up over this. I can function, but I can’t get the fear out of my mind. Mintkey and I have grown extremely close. She’s always by my side, no matter what I’m doing–always begging to be pet and loved, and I’m always happy to oblige. She sits on the bar next to my computer as I type this.
The good news is, she seems much better today. She’s able to jump onto the bar. She’s eating and playing again, although her back legs still don’t seem quite right. Nevertheless, they have improved. I hope they stay that way.
Life just comes at me too fast. Just over a month ago I was in the mental hospital, for fuck’s sake.
I’m just tired. It matters not how much well-being you can hold inside; the world inevitably breaks it. Always learning these fucked up life lessons. Why? What’s the point? I believe there is one, but I can’t see it.
Please, just send good thoughts to my little one, who suddenly decides to stand on the keyboard.
–Some Kind of Something
Filed under cats, fear, illness, mad ruminations, mintkey, sickness, veterinarian, worry
Gemini's Lament 