IB M

Sometimes the thoughts

Can't be stopped, they

Overtake everything,

And no amount of

Applying distraction

Methods will work.

Even more true when

Those thoughts spur

On body memories

That make you relive

The sensations of past

Acts; prompt a repeat.

That makes you obsess to

Achieve that result again,

Like you need to do this,

You must be doing this.

It's all you can imagine,

It doesn't leave you alone.

After a while, it can well

Drive you crazy and weak,

If not completely desperate

For it to come to a stop.

That's when things can get

Dangerous, out of control,

Not for others, but yourself.

You know too well how

All of this works out now,

So you have to be careful,

And keep in mind that this is

Temporary, it's not really you.

You will get through this.

It's left up to me

To fix the damages

They caused me

At this stage though

My belief is that some

Damages can't be fixed

Not for lack of trying

But attempts over years

Have revealed it's true

Some brokenness

Cannot be restored as

It's a permanent affair

The moment that part is

Stolen and mistreated to

Never be the same again

That will never leave nor

Will it ever recover, and

Rebuilding it for yourself

Is impossible, it's gone.

It will never be.

It was obliterated.

So it's left up to me,

To figure out how to

Move on in this void.

Not for a lack of trying...

- exhausted weakling...

Ideations of self-destruction

Grow even though it's known

This is not a viable option.

Imagination plays it over

And visualizes the sought

Peace as if this'd bring it.

Realization is still around

That this is plainly untrue,

Yet my mind won't let go.

It wants out and asserts

Its position on this matter,

Yanking me to follow suit.

And I find myself wanting

To desperately comply, and

Make it as painful as can be.

Ruminations on a bloody

Exit overtake every moment

While holding back's waning.

Ideations of self-destruction,

Annihilation of my existence,

Termination of pathetic self,

An end to all manners of pain,

It's all that takes a life of its

Own and waits on me to act.

Pushing, shoving me around,

Insisting it's the only way...

In time, it might very well win.

Feeling mostly out of place

And often like I don't exist

And there're expectations

That're always deceivers

Combining it all concludes it

Obviously isn't working out

There's nothing more to say

But it was nice while it lasted

- follow up to 'News About My Father'... 

Whenever my family seeps

Into my life like it has recently,

It always brings all sorts of

Exchanges that're emotionally

Draining after a little while.

Now this situation with my

Father, it's clear to me now

That this has nothing to do

With anything my father

Wishes or expressed at all.

And here my brother contacts

Me after seven years with no

Contact 'cause I think I might

Have insulted him by telling

Him I wasn't impressed with

How he'd handled a situation.

And he knows how I feel

About our parents, but it

Never stops him pushing

For me to have contact,

'Cause you know, they're

Our parents, after all.

So for him to contact me about

Our father's situation like that,

I'm kind of seeing it as it's about

Him more than about our father.

It would just not make any sense

For me to go at this stage, none.

So I will not.

It'll no doubt

Only disturb him

If I did, and I

Don't want that.

The man didn't express this

Wish, he isn't coherent or

Even lucid most days, and

He's emotionally as well

As mentally fragile, how

Can anyone think this would

Be a good idea at all, I just

Don't see it, it feels ill-advised,

To such an extent, my brother

Is too afraid to ask him if he

Has this wish or not before dying,

'Cause we both know that in his

'Normal' state, he's never dealt

Well with any sort of emotions.

The man isn't stable in his

Usual state, that hasn't changed.

This is only my brother's wish,

But I had to tell him it wouldn't

Be realized, 'cause I don't think

It would be kind to cause any

Sort of distress to him now.

So I will not go to see him.

He believes in God and Heaven,

I hope it brings him some comfort

For the next phases he will pass.

In the end, I think it's the best in

The current circumstances.

- stopped watching tv about 25 years ago... including televised news... which considerably helped to better manage my anxieties... but nowadays, I get my news on the net... about once a month or so... depending on my anxiety levels... 

The first and last breath of these

ponderings is an exasperated

sigh, as a result of having

spent a few minutes getting

up to speed with the news ;

I really don't know why I

subject myself to this stress.

There's nothing I can say

that'd be remarkable, but

like everyone, I have my

thoughts on things when

perhaps I shouldn't since I

really don't know anything ;

I'm just an inconsequential

Joe Bloe. rien de plus, so

my airing them out isn't

because I think they're

anything grand ; just saying,

I guess, if you're interested.

But what the news reports

Gives a very tired picture.

These wars going on around

The world, they're all the

Same, these old guys arguing

about stuff most people don't

relate to, imposing violence

and death unto others who

don't want to submit to their

ideas and ways of how to live.

Taking by force from others

and indiscriminately destroying

everything and everyone in the

way just so they can own it all,

that stuff that isn't theirs, but

for some reason, they'll kill to

have in their possession, just

'cause the other side said no.

It's insane behavior, and history

keeps proving it's in some

humans' nature to be this way.

We keep running up against it,

and every time, it gets out of

proportion and escalates on.

It's just so very tiring, and so

deeply discouraging that this

keeps rearing its ugly head

all of the time.  Where's our

evolution?  This always sorely

challenges my perception of it.

This battle of whose dick is

biggest is a really done scene.

Oh how I wish they could get

over themselves, and just quit

it already, these assholes are

ruining everything over distorted

illusions of grandeur and entitlement.

Goddammit, remind me to not

bother with the news anymore.

- my expectations are the same since 2020... what kind of question is that? 

Am I being funny about this?

Every time I see the physiatrist,

She always at some point after

We talk some asks me what my

Expectations are from today's

Consultation, and each time,

It makes me feel pretty stumped.

Also makes me feel like she's

Reached the end of her ideas

On what to do to manage or

Improve the difficulties...

My expectations?  That she

Uses her expertise to sort

Out some sort of solution

Instead of throwing the ball

Right back into my court as

If I have any idea which

Way forward would be the

Best for our follow-ups.

My expectations?  That she

Helps me figure out a way to

Not be in so much pain all

Of the time, is that reasonable?

Why is she asking me this?

Feels like she doesn't know either.

Do doctors ask you that, and if so,

How does it make you feel?

Am I being funny about this?

- writing exercise of sorts... writing in rhymes isn't something I find particularly easy... 

Somewhere along the way

You lost your heart for it

But you decided you'd stay

Even if we'd be worse for it

It's hard to piece it all together

Pulling bits closer you realize

But by then, it comes to falter

And a remedy won't materialize

So you try hard to find a solution

And hope no one takes a peek

If they found out your deception

You'd onward be seen as weak

If not completely ineffectual in

Your important role around here

Tell us, what will it take to pin

Your heart back to this sphere?

- it isn't that I hold it against my father for what he did... but it's not stuff you forget or that don't have an impact on how you feel... I mean, it's like a red-hot burner, once your hand's touched it, you won't put it back there again... that kind of feeling... 

My brother is psychiatrically ill,

And neurodivergent as well,

So his memories and how he lived

Them are vastly different than mine.

And when it comes to our father,

My brother has always retained

That need he always sought to

Meet with the man:  approval.

He was abused and harshly mistreated

As a child, 'cause our father just

Couldn't accept he wasn't 'normal', like

It was an indictment on his manlihood.

Called him stupid, berated him, swore at

Him, knocked him off things, and hit him.

At two, he asked him to get the Phillips

Screwdriver and threw him accross

The room, 'cause he didn't get the right one.

That kind of stuff, always like this with him,

Until the day we packed up and ran away

From home to never return.  But none of that

Made my brother ever distance himself, and

He kept on hoping for that approval, never

Realizing he's expecting the impossible

From a very broken person who just can't.

I won't go into what he did to me or my 

Mother, but horrible puts it a bit lightly...

It's like my brother and I don't remember

The same things, and I find it very bizarre...

It's sad that he can't see he'll never get it.

She comes to a serious point where

Certainty starts to take a big tumble,

'Cause there's really not much to be

Constructed from a heap of silence,

And one-way anything is so very

Unreassuring, it's undescribable,

As well as it inevitably always tenders

An inescapable hard blow to all peace.

So she comes to a down point where

Forms serious doubts she'll carry on,

'Cause she deserves so much better...