i want to ascribe a number to how i feel
dial it up whenever i’m blue
don’t want to think about feelings
don’t want to feel what i’m thinking
i want to run on automatic
a flat line lacks interest but it is predictable
you can see where it is going
no peaks no valleys to trip you up
no complex geography to drop out from under you
from a long climb there is far to fall
my body is worn and fragile
so i try to reason my way through
i’m not bloodless just bled out
i look to plans and other material solutions to save me
the systems i create are designed to relieve only my pain
any collateral damage inflicted is surely unintended
catastrophic failure is always a possibility whenever
we depend on the mechanisms we ourselves devise
we do indeed depend on those mechanisms…
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Alas, yes, gotta have those mechanisms.
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This poem captures my mood today. “…the systems i create are designed to relieve only my pain…” Alcohol and drugs were the systems that I designed to relieve my pain…for years. Now sober for many years, I use my art to exorcise the pain. Another grin for you :]
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Thank you, you’ve made my day. And to think, they told me this stuff is not relatable and unhelpful. Grinning back your way.
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ok, is this mature wizened coping with a dysfunctional thorny world or should we be concerned?
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Merely routine existential angst. Nothing to be concerned about. But thank you.
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great writing, you took me down down.
now i grin
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And they say this stuff is dark. Grinning with you.
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