and it’s me looking back…and it’s me


I’m trying to be somewhere. It’s not the same as choosing Portland. A psychiatrist ward came undone, no one wants to deal with it. We can go back and forth. We can reach our arms inside. If we don’t choose we get chosen. I think that’s what I mean. A slow version sunbathing on a rock. A fast version, maybe it already happened. Reach inside, something stirs. Like alligators you can’t see. How many warnings do you need. Don’t swim in dark waters. You have no idea what’s there. It’s not safe being someone you don’t really know. Not the way the mind works, not the mechanism that shoots off pain. Not the circuits that disguise the source. Not the other way around. Not me, not about me. The moment was disturbed by the one counting. They were all insane. No one noticed or cared. The child was homeless so they locked her up. It’s typical human madness. I write everyday from this prison, cell. A beautiful girl once dreamed. Now I see vicious animals that I once loved. Now I think beauty is only skin deep. Somewhere else to go. Anywhere but here. She is young and hollow like a bird, you can’t trust her to stay. She is old and spooked like a horse they always blinded, she’ll work in fear for you forever. Rearing her head from the darkness, floating in air that gives her that luminous light. She isn’t free. She is a product of destruction. She isn’t a caged animal she is a vessel of my mind. The ordinary suffering was never enough for me, I needed more. A commitment we would take this all the way. Souls chained to one another. It doesn’t matter how. I wanted to be the deepest most agonized psychotic mess you might find. Around any corner hiding from herself. Drugs, drugs from the deep blue yonder, stick a knife or a needle into me. Someone, anyone but here. Of course I hear her cry out, it would be natural. I wanted more from the emptiness of abandonment I wanted to know exactly who left. Me the imprisoned one, in bondage taking orders. Like a lonely waitress with only food to give. I only work here however. I only serve you what you order I don’t make it. What I say has arms to give, a poison to swallow so we don’t suffocate entirely. A mass to be extracted from below. We are rich in this resource. I want there to be more. A thicker dark that breathes from here. A heavier noise in my throat. A colder bed to churn in. A lighter body to lose to the night. A more blood thirsty animal to eat all of what’s left. A softer hand to hold my sin. A lonelier day to want me. A boy without chains to swim closer. A sunset, a low useless light leaving. Me something behind to remember why. Everyone has gotten loose, been unleashed. Inside my walls, a brain takes over. A talker dies into my voice. Explaining everything. Why I am the way I am is because of this this and this. Can you cure me, feed me healthy mantras, cuddle the biter. The attack can come from any corner. In case you come to visit. I smile. I sit down. I beg like a pretty girl for your life to be mine. Stains from mosquitoes I’ve killed, stains from you on the bed, stains from my mother calling me slut, stains from religious murders on top of each other. Panting, wild animal wanting. Calling through these prison walls. Come outside into the solace of dark night where we are as ourselves. Unharmed and unhurt by the hunt and the feast. Psychiatric issues. They wrote them all down on the page as I spoke. My mind is a wide band width stupid mother fuckers. I am violent because it’s your heart in my head sucking the marrow from a place it shouldn’t be. Do I know what I’m saying of course not. That would imply that my words are without truth. Do I understand the implications of insanity. Of course I do, that’s why she dances naked on the corpse. Everyone dies once they’re dead. My arms reaching in to the cesspool body bag of earth life…churning the recipe, drinking the carnal wine. This skin is not as tender as it used to be. I taste like cardboard even to myself the flesh is not the meat I want. Head fruit. Shamanic wolf call. Howl into me this moon beyond eyes. She wanders inside casting spells and you don’t hear me. Goddess light, the trap we can’t see. Reach into me where the dead can dance like the spring. Mouth of creation, tell me something in words. Make love with your voice. Spin the web until I can see you, in the center of my mind. The eye that grips and sucks the one, the diamond totem with the charms of a cat. I am saying they said I’m crazy and only meds will cure me. I am saying doctor, that poison is everywhere and I am drinking the final wrath. I am saying I need help to hide what I am. Becoming the thing that feeds me means another body is just around the corner waiting to jump all over you. In this room. In this me we carry. On this table, bent over like a lamb. I hear the wolf again. I taste my own blood on your coat. Don’t tell me I’m just another case for the files. Tell me I’m the dark side of the moon. You said we will never actually see me and isn’t it strange how we just can’t stop stepping into this space in our head. Seed spills, rain waters everything we killed. The spring has arrived, another year has moved on to the other side. Calling, I hear them calling, “she’s coming, she’s coming.” And I’m just like, “how do you end it, how do you end it.” Because I went way past beyond my breaking point. This is the mystery I face in her eyes…and it’s me looking back…and it’s me.  Sharada Devi


4 thoughts on “and it’s me looking back…and it’s me”

  1. I am in this space and there is gold and black stone. light swooping close and cold. misty breath riding like a train. the tree bends with the weight of dew.

    i see you, i feel you, i know you, is the message. stop. final. give it all, is the direction. of my life- death. i sink to you because you are the ocean and so dark that light surrounds me. this is the end of a dream. bliss is union of darkness

    surrender is the breath, leaving until you stop coming. but you always do. for the corpse, coming to life, drinking your wine.
    grape from the vine, I am turning myself. moon, light, the other side.

    “i love you”, soft words spoken from the hole of a knife, waiting to end the drama, the power of the one, who’s always been. stone meets sun, love burns it all down and time drags it all out. where can you escape, you again, in the end, waiting, like if we were friends turned enemies who had to kill each other and then we become free from either.

  2. This is the only thing I care about like my breath. Shining from where my pain comes.
    Close, all the words, what were you saying? Say it close. Your body of darkness, given to mine to end “the light of the world.” Who can see beyond desire, you said “if we don’t choose, we get chosen.”How can you get around my arms, when you are pulling them down…

  3. We are the perfect (or imperfect) storm. We must make our way to the center, to the eye of the storm. The storm is our life. We keep spinning around, looping over and over again. Some say to just be still, but I do not agree, we need to fight to get to that center. Do whatever it takes. The eye is our own center. With all the chaos and disillusion, our lives are littered with mass confusion. I say, drop it all and swim like hell…get to the center. It’s the only way I see to get there…fighting like a m’fo. The memories and interpretations of this life will melt away. I feel this truth that in the center is where the light can be seen clearly, that mother light without any distraction. We all have our own storms and we are all in a huge gigantic storm…our storms collide with each others’ within this one massive storm we have all created. We get caught up. Let go, and go deep within, to that eye. It makes me think of the salmon that swim upstream….haha…or even that one sperm that makes it to that one egg. LOL….funny I would think of that…but whatever.
    I had a dream last night that woke me up. It is recurring, not often, but enough to get my attention. It has to do with a situation that happened to me while I was in command at one of my Navy posts back in the late 90s. I made a huge mistake, did not listen to my gut on something, and what happened was that hundreds of people’s careers were affected. Really. Not only did I make one mistake, but I then made a couple of others on top of that one. The scene was pretty bad. I still ask myself why the F did I not do what I really should have done? I avoided a few decisions I had to make (fear?) and they came back to bite me, and boy, did it bite me hard. I was in charge of an 80 person organization that was responsible for taking care of an entire base of military persons pay/and advancements. This mistake actually affected the entire Navy’s manning situation for a few months. It was really bad, and it was fucking embarrassing. I could not quit. I was leading the command. My people knew the mistakes I made. I was new, too. I had two years left to command this organization. I actually prayed they would remove me, but no such luck. I had to stay and endure extremely low morale and lack of support from the people. I dreaded going to work every day. It was fucking awful. I had to get up and lead the weekly training programs and I could see their eyes looking at me like “why should we even listen to you, you don’t know what you’re doing.” And my bosses could not trust me. They were 60 miles away, but came often to “check up on me.” SO…what is my point? Well, the question I am asking myself is WHY, why can I not let this go? Why does this seem to pop up again and again? I knew how important this job was but I neglected to do what deep down I knew I had to do. I was afraid to face it and I could not deal with it. How is this relevant to me now? Am I currently avoiding something I should be paying attention to? Or perhaps it is a lesson in compassion. Compassion for myself for not being perfect and or perhaps compassion for my partner when he makes mistakes that drive me up a wall.
    I don’t know. I will keep seeking and asking the questions. I do know that at that time in my career I learned some really huge lessons. I look back and am really glad they did not remove me from my post, because I had to stay and work through the hard stuff and keep showing up every day leading the people who thought I was a joke. I got through it and moved on to a job that was THE best job I had ever had in my entire career. It was like I had to go through some kind of awful gauntlet of hell to get to something great. I will keep asking the questions and focusing on the goodness and lessons that this crazy life gives me…and keep moving towards the EYE (the DIAMOND!) of the storm.

  4. As I begged from the ghats of pushkar by a lake where some God some long long time ago threw a lotus from the cosmos, I cried to have my karma cleared in this life. What is karma and what are the implications of clearing it? And why do I keep referencing India? Ya you read a book like after the ecstacy, the laundry. And read little snippets of how everyone’s life went to shit after they found god or their Buddha nature. There is actually a quote in that book, now that I remember, that says ” Go ahead, light your candles and burn your incense and ring your bells and call out to God, but watch out, because God will come, and He will put you on His Anvil and fire up His Forge and beat you and beat you until He turns brass into Pure Gold.” How long will the beating go on for? Or most importantly and frighteningly, has the beating even begun? What we may think as beating may only be a push, a shove or a playful wrestle. Has the dark night of the soul happened yet because I can say that everything went to hell or is the sun still rising? So in our naeivity, we say “The ordinary suffering was never enough for me, I needed more” I’m not judging you because I felt the same way. Sometimes I wish I got on the path after I made alot of money or after I worked a “good job” for years and then gave it up. But for so long I feel that I have had nothing to even give up, but immaterial things. Dreams, enthusiasm and youth. Now the only thing I can renounce is the idea of renunciation itself. You don’t have to be a wandering mendicant to be a renunciate. I move like a snake in the dark amazon muddy waters. I may appear to be trapped in the trap. But there is nothing inside. What does Baba say? House always wins? The deck is stacked? I’m not regurgitating your message, but Im merely reflecting it back. The family trauma is a painful magnet that gets inherited. Blessed are those who were born into a family where the parents have actually done some work. Each day I am trying to plug the dam with my finger. And I ran to the other side of the country. And God gave me the cosmic switcheroo. Now I’m facing more exaggerated issues with my partner’s family. This shit wont go away-the way that we imagine it to atleast. My devotion has waned, and my meditations have become shorter. Why, because every I do it ups the anty, life gets shaky, more turbulent. There’s algae in the water-its unsafe to swim today. So I’ve become more pliable, like you said, and anticipate the next round house kick to the gut. God take me off the forge! I can feel myself walking up to it again unwillingly. Chained, shackled being lead by a large man with a dark hood and a third eye of course. He has 8 arms. One has the hammer and 7 have the remote countol with only one button: Pause. I’ve been choosing the remote for millions of lives. Now just give me the gauze and let me clench my teeth. But God, atleast give me a warning before you strike 🙂

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