This Muddled Mess Of Me

Inspired by Poppy's fabulous poem Air the Rot Lest I Decay Rapidly

Look deeper if you dare, if you care.
I am broken, damaged, smouldering with pain.
Boot strap pick up and I act my day away
while people barely look up.

Even the simple business of living is complex.
Am I more than my pain? The beauty
around me is dulled and oily.
I cannot simply shake it off like a wet dog.

I hide things out of necessity but they are not secrets.
They are fear,anxiety and depression that I shove down my gullet
and while I choke on them I am still able to make a pithy
observation or tell an original joke, they think I am funny and smart.

So much of me they see is a mask,
for if they saw me from the inside out
they would cover their eyes and pray
to a higher being or bury me undisclosed.

Suffering cannot be measured quantitatively
and there is no qualitative scale,
I once thought I was seeking happiness
but realize now contentment will do.

The safest way for me purge this blackness is to write
like the girl in the red shoes, make my fingers bleed and accept
that my life did not turn out the way I thought or in a manner I foolishly believed I deserved.
All the ingredients for success were there but the oven was on too high for too long.

And as the specter of time hangs over me
it neither declares itself friend or foe so I ignore it,
and hope that I have bought enough of it to try again
and straighten out this muddled mess of me.

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

Even the simple business of living is complex.
Am I more than my pain? The beauty
around me is dulled and oily.
I cannot simply shake it off like a wet dog.

We are told to "get over" so many things. to be "Grateful" in all circumstances - but we certainly don't have to be grateful FOR the damn things. I am surrounded by the mess of me. So this poem is anthemic to my condition. Well penned.

[icelandicblue]

Thank you Tammy. I wish I could just shake it all off. I appreciate your candor.

[Earthy Mumma Soul]

Wow , this is awesome in its description of how it feels to be depressed ... and the words you have compiled just sound and look great. I felt like you were writing about me ...
"The beauty
around me is dulled and oily.
I cannot simply shake it off like a wet dog."

I hide things out of necessity but they are not secrets.
They are fear,anxiety and depression that I shove down my gullet
and while I choke on them I am still able to make a pithy
observation or tell an original joke, they think I am funny and smart.

Feels like myself so much

Thank you for a great wite..

Ive been thinking today and yes your right , movement is important , to build strength in my body so I can hold, contain strong emotions , for me then to release ..... but I seem to lack the motivation sometimes to want to .... to good and well for myself... I know that I stuff the real me for so long .... its almost impossible to change... but I keep bloody trying lol x

[icelandicblue]

That is all we can ask of ourselves...to keep trying. Thank you for reading. When I read your poem I couldn't help but think of how similar our poems are. It is a work in progress...baby steps...and unless you've been there you have no idea how monumental even the idea of it is never mind actually doing it.

[Earthy Mumma Soul]

Just for today x

[jacob erin-cilberto]

people, even those who claim to be friends....they want the good times and the smiles...the other side of us, the dark side...that is a mess they don't want to deal with...what a question..."am i more than my pain"---sad to think that we may not be...but somewhere deep inside, there is hope lingering.

[icelandicblue]

Always hope jacob, sometimes it's elusive but I know it's out there. Thank you for reading and commenting.

[therisa]

Reading this, am reminded, how much of my life, is written, here. As the last stanza speaks directly to my soul, hoping, I can fix this, before my time is up. Thank you, Icelandicblue for putting into writing, my struggles and concerns, for others to see and read.

[icelandicblue]

We suffer therefore we are human therisa. We're all in this together. Thank you.

[therisa]

Your welcome.