Bits and pieces

half my life

is spent in residual panic

somehow charging up

through past embarrassment

punishment

and consequences

twisting and curling 

through my gut

like it’s all thats left of me

fragments built up

through pain

shattering through thoughts

rushing through my brain

but there are moments

of calm

this is the other half

of me

the center of the storm

of pure energy

where the air breezes

softly

grazing against my skin

but somehow this is worse.

because the calm

is empty

and im so used to the pain

that when it disappears

works up a recharge

somewhere at the back of my head,

ive got nothing.

the air on my skin

usually eclectic and buzzing

suddenly a distant hum

barely there for me to feel

and the thoughts

that habitually race

like there’s a finish line

somewhere far away

that they just need to reach

but seemingly never do�"

they’ve gone quiet

a lull in the tracks

like my life is a game

and someone, somewhere,

has paused it all

and left me in the same

place i was before it faded

no directions,

nowhere to go.

no thoughts or feelings

or way of escape.

it’s just an empty stadium

inside my brain

one would believe

the calm is better than the storm

better than the raging and screaming

infinitely safer that the 

rushing feelings run rampant

but 

on each side

i know what i face

the familiarity of the screaming thoughts

like flashing thunder and lightning

they’re a loudness

familiar and kind

in their torment.

so when the cyclone swirls

and leaves me at the center

with nothing to grasp onto

i ache for the whirlwind ahead

because 

the fear 

outweighs the numbness

because when i am afraid

that means i am alive

when i’m overwhelmed

screaming into the void

i’m at least feeling

something.

when it passes,

and i’m circled by silence,

i feel nothing.

and surely

that must mean that i

am dead.

these are the pieces of me,

overwhelming thoughts

and racing energy,

and the part of me

that is somehow worse,

its inability

to feel anything,

that leaves me gaping,

that aches for the pain

and will do anything

to feel it again.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I felt the struggle and the deep thoughts. All of us have two-sides. Each one trying to control. I had a very bad temper in my youth. I learn to control and keep my insanity. I liked the honest tone in your words. Peace and calm. Hard to find and hard to hold on to. Just do your best. Thank you Audri for sharing the poetry. Made a old man think.
Coyote