Time is of the essence and what you do with it is your own journey. From surviving the day or the night to resting easy on a weekend if you have the opportunity. Taking steps to clear the conscious from all it’s pain and drudgery while still tackling the chores of the day is the truest form of strength. With shaky hands from a night of elevated heart rate issues to a morning sunrise bringing the rage of a full blown migraine to my bed. The kind that makes you hold your head in your hands as your roll over and try to count the thumps in your head as your heart beats hard against your chest.
The shower never felt so good as the I change the temperature from hot to cold and back again several times to dull the ache that resides in my right temple and the base of my skull. I have oiled up with ever essential oil that is supposed to help calm, relax or ease the tension of the world around me. Hell, I would drink them like I used to drink Crown Royale if it was a way to cure these ailments. But alas, the stress of our lives has decided to stay and retire in my mind for good I fear. Never leaving me but only when I am fully distracted by whatever mindless entertainment I can find on Netflix or through my social media binging watching everyone else’s lives from the inside out. Or flipping from page to page satisfying my sensual cravings from elaborate billionaires that steal the hearts of virgins or slipping down the rabbit hole of from poet to poet. Safely nestled on my couch or tucked in my bed at night before I let myself lose on fantasies and the dreams that infest my sleep take me to another world and my mind is void of the reality that is all so very much filled with PTSD and is raw and open and still burns. The embers still smoldering in thought and remembrance of the killers that live among us inside of Adler.
They are there always, lingering, loitering where the signs say not to but yet there they stand leaning up against the wall. Bricked walls with mortar falling out and around them but yet they remain. With their ripped shirts and tattered jeans tell me they have been though hell just like me and they aren’t giving up yet. Beaten but not defeated. Bruised and battered but not willing to give up just yet. The thoughts that live inside my head just won’t fucking die. Constantly resurrected by memories or still existing in the corners and shadows of the present. All with grins on their faces and winking eyes as to tease, taunt and torment me. Never resting unless I drown them out with beautiful distractions and the lesser of the evils that I can find laying around my mind.
I am haunted. I am weak from them, but I am not down, not all the way. I smile when I want and cry when I can. I laugh in the moment and feel the anger from my bones. I am worthy of all the emotions that come along with me because I am a soldier of this world, this reality, this night during day and day during night time of our lives. Darkness can be felt in the light but the light can make decedent colors as it’s reflected and that is where my focus must remain. Sorting through my cogitation one color at a time. Allowing them to blend and melt and resonate like a rainbow come to the surface of time. Adjust and adapt from the ashes that collect around the fire.
Destiny remains uncertain but love and light are pure even in the middle of the day when the clock tics slowly and the mind wanders away down the beaches of the imagination. Gardens of Eden and cities abroad with cafes and stops along the road trip of my own fabrications. Day dreams of endless bubble baths and wrinkles and creases of time fill with scents of lavender and patchouli. Comic book cut outs and book covers from Jane Eyre to Fifty Shades of Grey line the subway walls of my mind overlapping and cluttered much like my thoughts that end up trapped in the webs that are created by endless moments of mirage and illusions used to dull the senses of my now. Physically to touch and hopelessly to heal the wounds that have been left behind from the tours of duty that we have been engaged in for the last 2 years. A never ending nightmare mixed with a fantasia of childlike innocence turned to dust over time. Blown around the chimney of the souls of wounded warriors. Apparitions of hope, love and truth float around with no chairs to sit in but beds to lie in and rest the weariness of their empty spirits. Aching for release of the prison of the mind and the anxiety of the atom bombed past that collides with the wafer thin present and the boxed in future.
Break free…..let go and balance it all while looking at the world with kaleidoscope eyes like the Beatles said…..even they knew to look for rainbows.