he could not meet the mirror's eyes:
walking the red-light district
of your own heart
selling yourself, over and over
for another little taste
of oblivion
another gulp of thorns
bitter acrimony in a bottle
self-castigation by the fifth
sipping neat,
tidy as a tomb
don't mind me,
I'm just building a ruin
nothing to see here.
just the latest shots fired
in this chemical war between Brain and Mind
with Heart and Soul hanged as battle-flags by either side
proudly crucified above the field of honor;
ethanol versus neurotransmitter deficiency
it always was a wight's duel,
a tragedy of ghosts and shadows
trampling new-born dust-devils
beneath their warring feet.
he cannot avoid its gaze any more:
it's funny
how single moments diamondize
morphing into crystal clarity
from the muddy haze of general memory
as if the spirit of a fine faceted smoky quartz.
abruptly,
awareness jump-cuts
leaving you dangling above a compost pit
forces you to acknowledge
all those hasty sketches and snapshots
shoved out of eyethought in your mental desk-drawers:
your cup overfloweth with filth
the smoking mirror shatters at your visage
refusing to reflect an image
so thoroughly self-rejected.
denied natural release
you roll wailing in the smouldering shards
bloodying the silvered edges
paper-cuts atop visceral agonies
maddeningly insufficient!
and worst of all, that incomprehensible bondage
which denies all chance of abyssolution
irrevocable chains of devotion.
he is a shark with its head stuck in a reef
perpetually dying, no end in sight,
no last release:
impossible!
unacceptable!
intolerable!
seven years later:
innocently pellucid,
this aqueous bone-fire
patiently awaits
(with perfect Japanese etiquette)
the honor of his attention,
resting amicable in its serving-cup.
gingerly,
he dips his toes in dragon's tears
just one at first, but soon enough caution dissolves
into smooth-simmer fire-water,
a hearth in his belly to warm his unagi-don.
he does not enjoy the treat
as much as he usually would --
an abyssal conflagratorrent
rages implacable across the floodplains of his mind.
it seems alchemical, this shift
an improbable chimiracle;
yet Theli glides still across
a murdered ocean-queen's back,
that dragon-cadaver called "space";
and with each kinetic ululation
he grits his teeth against
an expected yet unmanifest volley
of furole and fury.
one year after that:
the time-serpent's scales
shed at his feet
continue to pile up
with nothing to wash them away
yet a brief polish once in a while
keeps them glossiridescy --
just occasionalcoholly ...
Author notes
This poem contains several portmanteaux, word-plays, and references.
Occasionally + alcohol = occasionalcoholly. Abyss + absolution = abyssolution. Conflagratory + torrent = conflagratorrent. Chimera + miracle = chimiracle. Glossy + iridescent = glossiridescy.
'Eyethought' is derived from the saying 'out of sight, out of mind' and the term 'eyeshot'.
The smoking mirror comes from South American mythology. It is a god's name, but in modern times the idea is also connected with an artifact, into which the worthy may look and see his future, but the unworthy would die. Unagi-don is a type of Japanese food involving filet of freshwater eel (cooked) over rice with a sweetish sauce. Sake (rice wine, stronger than grape wine) is the traditional beverage to accompany Japanese cuisine in general (not just sushi, that is.) "The murdered ocean-queen" is a reference to Tiamat, the primordial sea-dragon slain by the storm-god Marduk in Babylonian mythology. Theli is an Ouroboroan world serpent which I use as a symbol of time, to accompany Tiamat's corpse as a symbol of space.
The phrase 'building a ruin' was originated (as far as I know) by Martin Walkyier.
I was an alcoholic once. I used to keep a bottle of Stolichnaya by my chair to drink from, straight, warm, didn't care, didn't matter. Nowadays I can have a drink or two with a meal or friends without even mild cravings later. I solved the problem two ways: By acknowledging that I was doing what I was doing partly out of self-loathing and partly just because I wasn't taking responsibility for, or even maintaining conscious awareness of, my behavior. I changed alcohol's definition in my mind from 'drug' to 'food', but more importantly I acknowledged that I was chronically and profoundly depressed, and that my alcohol abuse was just a symptom of that larger problem. I am now using medical cannabis in full compliance with California law, and I no longer abuse any drug, nor do I have cravings for alcohol.
Being totally sober all the time felt pretty good. But there was always that nagging anxiety, a lack of ... closure, I guess. I was never *certain* that I'd achieved my true goal, just that I'd managed to get myself to a point where I was okay if I never exposed myself to it. But in having alcohol with food, I prove to myself that metaprogramming has worked, that I am in fact capable of exerting and maintaining control over my behavior, and, ultimately, that I'm not broken or a hopeless failure... the thoughts and beliefs which lead me to drink in the first place.
A contest entry
- /B/r/e\a\k\ me into p.i.e.c.e.s, Im such a h-o-p-e-l-e-s-s case. by Silent Emotions.
900 points, ended February 25, 56 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
wow, the way you describe the addiction is so profound.
you really have a way with words.beautifully penned! -
you have a way with words
that most of us would nary dare
Adding your comment:
