Moss and Mushrooms

Satellite

A collection of poems inspired by the lyrics of "Satellite" by Guster.

Shining like a work of art
I accepted and welcomed the end, I was ready to choke on my vomit, I knew it would come and I didn't care to change it.
Some people don't get better. Some people don't live to see brighter days. Some people are hollow from beginning to end, and I believed that.
Slowly the world became a little bit easier to live in, the memoires of the rape and the drugs exist in my mind but there is room for other things.
I believe that when I die I will do so knowing that I am more than my suffering, that he did not kill me, the drugs did not kill me, and I will not kill me.
I sometimes enjoy a silent moment to reflect on the way things have changed. I know the worst is over. I know I stand more of a chance than I ever did. I believe I am more than this.
I enjoy writing poetry about things I had never heard of. I read books about pain but I am not sore. I laugh and smile without forcing myself too.
Maybe I have told the story one hundred times over, maybe I will tell it in one hundred more, maybe I will run out of words, but for now I cannot stop writing about how I am finally breathing.

Hanging on a wall of stars
I still feel like the strangest person in every room.
There is something wrong about me, something taller than my shadow, something I cannot explain or hide but everyone notices it. I could pretend but I don't know what I would pretend to be.
There are one hundred tiny things that separate me from you, maybe if the list were shorter I could sit next to you and not be cities away.
But I know I am not the only person who is like me, I know that I am not as different as I feel.
He had to get sober before he could legally drink just like I did.
He has a mind that is fragmented like mine, he knows what it is like to live in pieces.
She knows obsession like I do, she knows what it's like to have annoyed everyone in the room with the rambles before even getting started.
He's like me, he knows about the highs and the lows and the deep infatuations. He knows what it's like to never live in gray.
He knows what it's like to not know what words you're supposed to use. He knows what it's like to do and be the wrong thing even when you really didn't mean it.
He tells the same stories I do, together we can write our hearts out, send me your poetry and I will read you mine.
This is the only thing that makes sense, isn't it? Maybe it may kill me but I guess that's okay. We can find ways to live without it.
I sit in the eight PM AA meeting and I know I am not the only person who lived the way I lived. They know what it's like to get sick in the morning. They know what it's like to break every rule you set for yourself.
He knows what it feels like to be used and disregarded. He knows what it's like to be nothing but a doll to someone who is supposed to love you.
Me and him know about alienation, I ask him if he's ever felt unlike anyone he's ever met and he asks me if I have been listening to his thoughts.
I watch from afar as they live loudly in a way I don't think I've been able to, in a way I wouldn't ever want to. Tell me your story again, I will read and highlight something on every page.
He knows what it is like to live in the confines of your own mind before the walls of your own home, he knows what it is like to hate the only thing that you can seem to understand.
I know many who reach the heights of obsession that I do, she knows what it's like to love something so much you need it, he understands that this is not a part of my life, this is my life.
He knows what it is like to daydream about people you barely know, he has told himself the same stories you always have, he will never judge you for caring about a stranger too much because he lives in the equivalent.
He gets so excited he can't sit still, just like I do. He knows what it's like to want to be held but far too afraid to ever let it happen.
You are not the only man without male parts. You are not the only boy who grew up playing on the girls team.
He knows what it is like to not be able to trust your own mind
He listens to you recount the times when you acted in ways you wish more than anything you hadn't, he sits with you and tells you a story about something equally as unsettling.
Maybe you and him do it in different ways but you both know the struggle of not knowing how to do it normally, you both ask each other if you'll ever be able to do it like everyone else.
I am not the only one, I am never the only one.

Are you what I think you are?
In my mind I was always the crazy one, I was the one in the family with a list of diagnoses that could never really explain things.
Maybe I am schizophrenic. Maybe I am bipolar. Maybe I am borderline.
I was the one who never stayed out of the psych ward for long, I was the problem child, I was the one who ruined things for everyone else because he wasn't ever trying hard enough to get better.
I believed I was a burden, I believed everyone would be better off without me, I believed the family would have been whole if I were never born.
I will sit with the reality that I have caused pain, I will believe that I have done things I shouldn't, I know that I have not been easy, but I will not accept the label as the problem in the family.
I was visited in my bedroom by someone who was supposed to love me. I knew I wasn't safe in my own home. I thought I was going to die in that bed.
I am stronger than I ever believed I was. I survived things they could never even begin to admit happened. I am healing and I am whole and I am exactly what I need to be.
When I look in the mirror I do not see someone who failed, I see someone who lived through unimaginable things and lived to tell the story.

You're my satellite
I lay in my bed and stare at the door, it always happened at this time of night.
In the back of my mind I know he doesn't live here anymore but my fear is louder.
I think the waiting is the worst part, because when it happens I can leave my body, when it happens I can go into the back of my mind, but for now I am left to question what comes next.
And for a moment I try to remind myself that he doesn't know where to find me, that he is not going to hurt me tonight, in that moment I watch a movie about a life in which I know this is far behind me.
I see myself being held by my husband and I am not afraid to feel his skin against mine. I watch from above as we are together and he loves me for exactly what I am, he loves all of me. He loves my happiness, he loves my survival, he loves my creativity, he loves my passion.
We have a home in which I know I am safe. Each wall is beautifully painted and each decoration is carefully chosen.
I feel safe in my own skin, I feel pretty, I know I am a good person who has helped many people.
I listen to those who went through what I did and in my office they know they are safe, they know that someone in this world believes them.
I have written many books, books people read and underline words on every page, books that describe things when they can't.
I have a large stack of diaries that hold the memories of my days. They hold the Sundays I spent on the back porch and the nights spent laughing with my friends.
It did happen, it still hurts me, but there will be a day when I know I am not his.

Always the first star that I find
This is the thing that makes sense to me, the thing I cannot help but rely on.
It is here when I am drowning under the current far from shore. It is here when I don't know what to believe in. It is here when I am unsure of where else to go.
It helps me understand things I never comprehended before, it helps me see things that before remained invisible.
It is here with me when everything good is far out of reach. It is here through every word of the story.
It is here when I am laughing in a way that is genuine. It is here when I am getting better. It is here when I am whole.
You're always the first I want to tell when I am enjoying myself at a coffee shop on a sunday morning, you're the first to hear about how it finally stopped raining.
You know about the hollowness before anyone else, you know the moments that broke in finer detail than anyone I've ever met.