I have been standing behind the wardrobe for 16 hours
1 am
pacing pacing pacing
The torch shone at my face
Beams of hatred
Vile wishes
I have lost everything
I have lost everything
I have lost myself
I wait under the bush
In the catastrophe bag
Tied up in knots
Thisistheworstchoice
Theworstchoice
Thisisnochoice
There is no rest
No safety
The bag is safe
The bench the cold juice the shakes
That is safe
Mine
Who I am
What I want
I will never speak again
For once the words have been spoken
I become lost
I will reclaim myself
Tomorrow
I will reclaim myself
My being
Tomorrow
I will become normal again
I will fill the bag so tightly
Savour every particle
Every granule
Scrub away from inside
These 111 filthy
Wasted days.
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13 comments:
I love the idea of a catastrophe bag. It's magic.
You definitely will reclaim yourself. I understand, I think, what you mean when you say you will never speak again. I feel that way sometime too if I end up saying something I regret! Another strong write, Jae.
I wonder if we can ever reclaim anything. Like skin cells, are we constantly dying and being reborn? I have BEEN a catastrophe bag lately. Hopefully I am climbing out and leaving it back in the corner for safekeeping.
I think I will always speak, but I will never say the inner things that terrify or rage or weep.
Sorry I have been gone. I will try to stay now :)
Often, Jae, reading your work incites myriad questions and leaves me yearning for a face-to-face conversation. (I am sure yours is a face whose countenance I would appreciate.)
This piece prompts those desires more than most. Lost self? No new self emerging? Tough week? Bit of relapse, regression or regret? Disappointment in others or self? So many questions.
111 days... Filthy? Wasted? Oh! You have pulled my heartstrings.
111 wasted days -> not good, life is too shart to waste any days
4 senryu about pages
Jae- I agree with Kim... 111 days... of? You keep me begging for more.
This is probably one of your most heart rending pieces yet. I do hope your writing is indeed cathartic and that a lot of the angst has been washed away. Let's hope that bag can be packed quite soon.
I hope you re-find yourself and love yourself a lot very soon
What is normal? The world is full of people who would define us to ourselves. I read anger in this poem and frustration with a system that is itself frustrating. Many of us have to find our own way, often by sitting patiently under that bush.
Thanks Wendy..it is magic..
Thanks Mary..ink is far safer than the spoken word..and more people tend to understand..
Always knew were there Dee..hoping your catastrophe bag isn't weighing you down too much now!
All of the above Kim..the anger monkeys are out in force..thanks for knowing..my face..well that might be a bit scowl-y right now..
Indeed thanks Zongrik..
111 days..in room 23..treatment or punishment..haven't quite figured it out..will let you know as soon as I do..thanks Laurie..
Thanks Old Egg..maybe a catharsis bag would be better than a catastrophe bag any way..
Thank you Chapter Forty..
Nothing is perhaps Ann..one of the joys of reading your stories is that people find their own normal..their own music..in the remains of a burnt out world..thanks
Jae
"Tomorrow" is hopeful, and it will come. When we are in a state of waiting, it always seems like 16 hours or longer. I keep my fingers crossed, and hold my breath...xoxoxoxoxo
"I will never speak again
For once the words have been spoken
I become lost"
Oooh Jae, that really touched something within me. Really good writing. x
Thank you Annell..breathe now..Thank you Susannah..Jae
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