The Progress No One Sees

There wasn’t much pain anymore, just this numb curiosity that glazed his eyes with bitter knowing, as he understood that no matter how many questions received there answer, there would always be one, that only he could accept.

There wasn’t much pain anymore, not really. That’s not to say there wasn’t any sadness. In fact, sadness was still there, much like a dear friend, waiting and willing to drop everything in order to be with him, listen to him, and strengthen him, in times of need.

There wasn’t much pain anymore, just this constant urge to flee, and no matter how good the situation was, it came on like tinnitus, this constant ringing in his ear that seemed to say—think of all the things you could be doing…but you’re not…because you’re here.

There wasn’t much pain anymore, just time. Time enough to do anything and everything he needed to get done, if only he could grasp a sense of urgency, before being halted by this ability to fade within himself—hours on end—and not do anything at all.

There wasn’t much pain anymore, not really, just this introspection. It came on like a migraine, but left him feeling light. And over time this bitter knowing, well, it didn’t go away, but lessened with each breath. It was a private understanding—one he’d keep forever—in the tender of his heart.

Nothing Feels Better Than Pain

Haven’t got the chords or melody.

Nothing feels better than pain.

I haven’t got the reasons anymore.

Haven’t got the words to explain—

People living life like it’s a parody.

Everyone to me looks the same.

I haven’t got the reasons anymore.

Nothing feels better than pain—

Prove to me there’s goodness, and I’ll prove you wrong.

Prove to me there’s no pawn in this game.

Talking to you now just feels meaningless.

When Courage gets mistaken for Insane—

I haven’t got the reasons anymore.

Nothing feels better than pain.

Haven’t got the chords or melody.

Haven’t got the words to explain.

Treason

Call me by my medicine

not by my mistakes

It’s all I have to offer,

it’s all that I can take

Call me by your reasons

my reason not to stay

And let me be the treason

to help you walk away

The Magnificent Magician

Don’t call me by my name—

Call me The Magnificent

Magician Of First Impressions,

where all the world’s a stage

and every player has his part,

where women played by men

no nothing of the difference,

where fragile lines seem effortless

written by the long hand of night,

where smoke is thick and endless

in the mirrors of wasted time.

Call me the Magnificent

Magician Of False Positives,

where anything seems possible

until commitment to the narrative,

where hope is built on trust

and not the other way around,

where kindness is a give and

not taken as an afterthought,

where love is solitaire

and not a solitary place to die—

Call me The Magnificent

Magician if you must,

where pain relies on burden

a burden I can trust,

and ABRACADABRA heals

this feeling of disgust.

No reason, No pain

I don’t mean to sound defeated

It just always hurt to try

Knowing there’s no meaning

In waiting out the night,

So I take my lashes willing

Under this starry sky

Knowing there’s no reason

Or pain to justify

Confirmation(in the form of being)

Tell me his name

And I’ll give him your word

Though to an illusion

I can not confirm—

Within him lies many,

Within you lies more—

His name’s but of flesh and bone.

So tell me your name

And I’ll give you his word

Be it not an illusion,

Something I can confirm.

To understand one’s suffering

To understand one’s suffering

Is to understand our own,

Knowing causes pain—

But still with hope we try

To understand one’s suffering

Is to be on their side, regardless

Of the awful many cuts

Through the tenderness of night—

Their aim is (not) to heal

But still with hope we lie,

To understand one’s suffering(…)

Like fruit picked from a vine.

You just have to live.

Being sober’s

as overrated

as being drunk—

nobody wins.

You just have to live.

The things I can not change

The things I can not change

remind me why I’m here.

They are but the souls

reminder—to stay the course.

October 2020

A holy moment.

Taking a moment

to examine your palm

is a holy moment.

And those lines, well

they’re the most honest

you’ll ever read.

From the Kindness Rock Project. Topanga, California