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Fear Crippling Life

Plunging back to real. Being abreast of failure.
Balance is illusive when eyes are all down.
It is life dark and when the speech comes,
my mind crashes into the greatest hollow oak
and my tears feel chilly.
I confess my illness and hope for love,
which puts me in the class of asses who fail.
Not allowed to crash and love creeps away.
Failure after failure after blatant failure cram.
Fears fill all the cavities left by love.
My illness lights the fears on fire and laughs.
Burning in a world for which I am ill-suited.
Start piece by piece and hope begins.  Hope,
battling to the nothingness of death with fears.
Hope has fragile vessels and she cannot hold,
but I give her a poisonous lake to swim in
while I work piece by piece.
Holding myself together,
pulling the fish-hook
from flesh, and really,
nothing is together,
nothing at all.
If they ever leave again,
I hope the fears run far away and dive
into the Black Sea, but I am ill-suited,
am life created as a target for stacks of fears.
They always know how to come back home,
to come back and fester in my hollowness.

 

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  1. #1 by Evelyn on January 23, 2011 - 7:42 pm

    “Balance is illusive when eyes are all down.
    It is life dark”
    beautiful. crisp and true.

  2. #2 by Jamie Dedes, all rights reserved on January 23, 2011 - 10:45 pm

    It’s true: balance can be illusive and it doesn’t help that – as William Blatty once wrote – we are all subject to free flowing fears .. and if not fear than some other negative emotion. Nice work on this.

    • #3 by Carl on January 23, 2011 - 10:49 pm

      Thank you for your comment, Jamie.

  3. #4 by April Belle on January 24, 2011 - 9:18 am

    This really pulled me in… You described this all too human state with with such clarity and sizzle. Awesome.

    • #5 by Carl on January 24, 2011 - 11:06 pm

      Thank you so much for your comment!

  4. #6 by jenneandrews on January 26, 2011 - 2:28 am

    This is intense, lyrical, direct, prophetic. It verifies for me that our suffering– individual and collective– has some kind of merit when it drives a stanza like this: My illness lights the fears on fire and laughs.
    Burning in a world for which I am ill-suited.
    Start piece by piece and hope begins. Hope,
    battling to the nothingness of death with fears.
    Hope has fragile vessels and she cannot hold,
    but I give her a poisonous lake to swim in
    while I work piece by piece.
    Holding myself together,
    pulling the fish-hook
    from flesh,,,,,

    giving voice to how it is to be afflicted by fear– something i know as agoraphobic, also battling depression– see my post for OSW– is of great value. xxxJenne’

    • #7 by Carl on January 26, 2011 - 7:16 am

      Thank you again, Jenne. I appreciate your words. I will be visiting your site.

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