Sincerely October

Balance - Brainwash

B words for dictionary poetry.

Balance
There's always something with you, isn't there?
You take one path or the other, there is rarely a middle road with you.
You're utterly immersed, consumed, and obsessed to your detriment, or the world is filled with an endless gray and you can't be bothered to pull yourself out of the fog.
You let someone consume you every thought, you worship them and treat them as the antidote, or you wouldn't notice if they left and never came back, you wouldn't notice if they moved out because you very loosely fit the definition of living with them.
You sleep for thirteen hours at a time or you go to bed at six am and wake up at sunrise.
You're uncomfortably elated, you're vibrating and can't seem to sit still, or you barely bother with getting out of bed because the hollow feeling has consumed you.
There's no such thing as gray with you.

Baleful
For much of your life this is what kept you alive, you needed to disconnect from your life to remain a part of it.
The horrors I lived through are vastly separate from the sunny childhood I had, it may have been all a part of my early years but to me the memories live in different lives.
When my humanity was disregarded repeatedly my mind became fractured, because I needed to do that to survive, it was too large and expansive to coexist.
I lived like that for many years, not because I wanted to but because it was that or die, and I didn't want to die.
These patterns are a part of the fiber of my very being, there is no separation between me and these ways of being.
But what about when you want to be here? What about the moment you realize you have nothing to hide from? Why are you still running? Why can't I stop running?
I have a life I want to be here for, where did the memories of my life go? Why am I waking up in the middle of the day I was already a part of?
I know the day has been moving and I've been moving with it, but I wasn't there so don't ask me what happened.
I want to feel whole and connected, I want to remember our calls, but my mind still thinks I need to hide.
It's a part of the lie, that I need to keep myself hidden to be safe, but there's nothing to hide from.

Baptism
Welcome to the answer you've been looking for, it's not religious but it feels divine.
The more questions you ask the more will be answered, soon you'll stop asking because you know the answer.
It seems every ache is eased by the drugs, soon you find yourself getting high to deal with the problems you caused by getting high.
How could you do anything else? How could you ever change when you have all the answers in your backpack?
Time progresses, and you start to see this strain and fracture your life, you've lost yourself in the process, but you're too deep into it now.
How could you ever let go? How could you ever go back now that you've seen god?
As holy as it may have seemed you have not met god, don't throw yourself away with the promise of divinity because this is everything but divine.
There's a reason addiction is represented by the devil in tarot, you throw yourself and your life away for the drugs, that is not god, that is not holy, you are unwell, and you will be until you stop listening to the verses written by your disease.

Beautify
I am picking up the pieces and mending them with gold.
I don't think pain and loss is divinity but it gave me many valuable lessons.
I used to berate myself for never sticking to anything, I never held anything in my hands for long before it was replaced by a new idea or passion, I didn't realize how lucky I was. I was lucky to love so many things.
I am returning my friends' calls and spending my Saturdays with them. We walk around the busy streets and stores while enjoying eachothers company.
I still express melancholy through poetry, but I know I am happier than I used to be because I can honestly write a poem about the sun rising above the meadow.
I haven't touched a drug in over three months now, I know what they do to me and I'm creating a life in which I don't need them.
I started drawing again, I finished a sketch book and started another.
I don't think so much about the rape anymore, I don't feel haunted by an inescapeable past.
Even when the nights grow dark and the evenings become lonely I am still in my iris season because the sun shines brighter than it ever did during my little dark age.