Dipping Into Restless Stupor

Dipping Into Restless Stupor

Every part of my body is frozen except for my Brain, slowly it comes to the realization that only half of us are awake, a panic builds its way through my system as stress begins to settle in; Sleep Paralysis, again.

Doing it's best, she tries to get everyone else to rise from their slumber, for what if she is the only one awake for the rest of their existence, what happens if the other members of this body don't get back up, would anyone on the outside of this begrudgingly resting form know of this motionless dilemma?

Looking around through closed eyes there are no demons glowering at her still feet, just the darkness hugging tighter as she begins to sweat, trying with all her muster to get any limb that she can to move an inch, any sign of life to ease her out of sleep; The true frightful sight.

It's very slow as rock like limbs do their best to glide across the sheets, each muscle taking their sweet time to untighten as they spark back to life, sluggishly fighting against the powerful tugs of slumber as she forces her body up, eyes dryly burning to return back to the land of dreams and subconscious thoughts that sneak their way inside; The true battle begins.

Without realizing it, her body slips back into the comforting yet fuzzy haze that leaves her Brain in a chaotic frenzy of fear, dragging each stem of creaky sweaty joints at an agonizingly listless pace, hyper focused and strangely aware of the empty blackness she resides in, feeling like an eternity while she finally pulls out of the dreary-warm-night-starry sludge with all of her might one last time; An accidental slip of consciousness.

- Autumn(Me)

09/20/2024

Right All Along

Your words of supposed sincere honesty sit bitterly in my eyes, in my head, in my heart; Dissection of nothing.

“I'm sorry.”

You are sorry, so cowardly sorry for yourself that you're man enough to type out a text for me, dripping with just enough and so little that it passes off for a genuine explanation and peaceful exit for yourself; Thank you for your time and showing me the teeny ounce of care and respect you had all along for me, how considerate.

I'm glad that you're man enough to just cut me loose instead of continuing to lead me on through your sudden distance that I'm not blind from seeing, that you're no longer playing it off as being busy, but laying it down bare as not wanting me, instead of continuing to talk out of a pitiful obligation of fake interest and self guilt; It's nasty but true.

Something that you waited days after dinner to confess to me through a screen, when we both knew right then and there you didn't want to ever sit across from me at another table again, that very same night when the air between you and I became cold because you're a spineless little bitch who buys flowers for every whore you see after dark it would seem; Far too mad and clingy for your liking.

My smile clearly not special or working for you anymore, just as crooked and goofy as your long forehead of deceit, it begins to spin itself down at the very thought of you and your existence, every sweet or funny occurrence once looked upon fondly now slowly decaying beneath my ribs as it hollows itself in as it heaves, because I am a jackass who never learns, and you are a dick who knew all along that you had no time to fart around with me, but yet we both indulged; Tell me why that is, Darling?

I honestly wish we never met, wish my sister didn't love me to the point that she’d introduce us, that she wouldn't have my back like that when I tell her that I think that this guy is very pretty, wish that I kept my interest to myself so that we didn't have to go our separate ways; Crying over a heartache of nothing.

I have no direct response back to you and your text, only these words of insanity and sour nothings, because I was foolish enough to have feelings for a boy, a boy who is still young and lost, who isn't ready for a heart that's two sizes too mature; I too type things out like a coward.

The poor little guy is just as ugly on the inside as his truck is on the outside; Full slander of the broken blazer of dreams.

We should go our separate ways, you have a life, so flooded that you can not fit me in your tight schedule of nothing, I have a life, so chaotic yet I wanted to make time for you for nothing, you've upset me and pissed me off even if I haven't gifted you with such feelings, and I'm not sorry because I don't feel sorry for myself like you do for yourself; Complete agreeance.

- Autumn(Me)

08/09/2024

Welcoming In The "Best" Company

She craves this, shamefully begs for it, clattering down onto her creaky knees, a feeling of being forgotten, miserable, and empty; Drinking it down like water, gasping in distaste for the woman in the mirror.

What the fuck is wrong with her?

Chaotically distraught, disoriented by this disturbing hunger; She enjoys this?

Living in the shadows, misplaced, yet fond fingers brushing upon her bitter skin; Loving bright hands in every direction but never spotlighting on her.

Slithering in the grainy darkness, tear burnt eyes watch in anticipation, eager to see what will happen, where this chapter shall drop her and the other characters; Fucked up indulgence.

She's twisted, a fucking hypocrite, babbling through snotty snobs and sniffles, how she "hates this feeling," yet she's got a craving for all this drama; Sickly appetite of a crybaby coward, licking at her dry lips.

Why would she relish any of this, desiring for it all to go wrong?

She's afraid of Happiness, of falling in love with her, only for her to be ripped away from moist-clammy-blistered digits; A loss she's grown accustomed to.

It's easier, she likes the warm-cold embrace of Despair, as he lights up a cigarette, taking what he wants, discarding her naked shell onto the street, leaving her to crumble down; Freezing alone with no clothes to cover her shame.

Slowly regluing herself, rising onto scrapped up bones, beginning to trek up the dusty road to where she should be (with her true lover, Happiness), only for him to come back, caressing her brain, internally tearing her up (again and again).

How orgasmic, the way her tears keep coming every single time; One night stand after one night stand, her only relationship and release.

The gross whore is sorry; Not an apology, simply an excuse of being.

- Autumn(Me)

New Bird, Same Song

Good morning, oblivious bright bird, blissfully blind to my feelings, to my silence.

You flew right into my hands, singing an annoyingly cute tune, convincing me that I was beautiful, tweeting on and on how you want to fly around, wing to wing with me; A tired old tune of lies and disinterest manipulating a gullible heart.

A fool who never learns, always she repeats this lesson, the way she smiles as her young snotty heart bleeds, so disgustingly enjoyable; A masochist down on her creaky knees kissing fists of make-believe roses.

These thorns disguised as honey soaked green tea leaves, soaking beneath rotten pores, so sweetly bitter this game, this decaying plant upon the garden of possibilities; Endless crushes.

She mourns the death of this little sprout, for this one had the best smile, but beneath its young roots were nothing but weeds, poisoning her fertile soil of love, making her gag in guilt and shame; Uprooting a ghostly invasive green.

Goodbye, silly boy.

- Autumn(Me)

Mysterious Congenial Hand

Bladed butterfly wings neatly tucked into the palm of an unknown adherent of art and almost whatever the ungraceful jester decides to embarrass herself with publicly; Likes from a stranger.

A mutual sharing of companions, and yet she hasn't a clue of the identity of this "follower," whose thumb is tapping away in support of her artistic nonsense.

"Who, are, you," a great question once asked by a wise-perfectly-sized-blue caterpillar who smoked quite often, suffocating-colorful-cloudy puffs of inquisitions float about my head, as I sit and ponder in my own Wonderland; Alice grows curiouser and curiouser.

Her eyes light up at the sight of a tiny-electronic-red heart on a piece that few spare a glance for, words and pictures squeezed fresh from the sweaty tube of her vulnerable heart, she dances in excitement while Pride inflates her massive balloon of ego; Overjoyed to have her creations seen.

Although she knows not who you are, nor if you truly do like all that your hidden peepers of an anonymous shade view through your screen, she appreciates the possibility that you do in fact genuinely enjoy her mad inventions of art, cooked up hot and ready upon the slab of her wild imagination; Thank you, loyal customer.

- Autumn(Me)

Unclear And Uncertain, Distressed Little Actor

My thoughts are cluttered, a mix of wants and needs, the desires of a dreamer clashing together with the realistic doubts of a pessimist, leaving me in a daze of hopeless fantasies as I waste away on my filthy mattress of hairy-stained-sweat; Time clicking by as she waits and watches.

“Where should I go? What should I do?”

I think and ponder instead of taking charge of my own life, pacing back and forth across the stage, fully understanding and confused that I am the lead in this play, but ignoring the fact that I am the writer, director, and crew as well; An original production called Carmen starring me.

“Where the hell is my script? How am I to know where to block?”

Instead of focusing on the production and all the behind the scenes work that must be done, I find myself captivated by the productions of others performed right a long side mine, lost in a jealous rage of mesmerization as I am dazzled away by their hard work and energy; Where do they find such dedication?

It seems at times that my play could never compare to theirs, take a look at those beautifully painted sets, each paint stroke tells a story somehow, remarkably handcrafted by deligent-independent-self-assured-calloused hands; Empty stares of the tools of potential, wastefully lying upon my vacant stage of possibilities.

Sleepless eyes burningly marvel as the deeply meaningful hues of light dance across each actor and set piece, how groundbreakingly perfect the way it all seems to align with their very essence, every color has a profound meaning that just brings the audience to tears, no real need for dialogue as you feel the story guide you along the stage with them, so powerful, this unspoken connection; Tearing apart another worthless-insufficient-insignificant script, scene by scene.

Lost between the edge of my delightful dreams and dreary doubts, I've twisted myself tightly in a stagnant web of indecision, stressing as time continues to flow even as I am stuck in my own shrill sticky threads of hopelessness, for I am both the spider and fly amongst these lines of thoughts, mashed together on a stage, as I close my eyes to imagine what could be if I detangled from this loud cluster of thoughts scorching my restless brain; Repeating this paradox that doesn't slow the clicks, as days turn into months of blissless slumber.

-Autumn(Me)

08/24/2024