From last year

I hurt, all the time, when unoccupied I am dying. I wonder if this is all worth it? Is my life worth it? I am getting use to being alone, its not so bad. The part that kills me is the finality of the situation without any explanation or reason. The only conclusion is that there is something wrong with me. I am not alone because I choose to be, I am alone because of something less definite. Am I somehow acting out some unfinished bit of the past, an unconscious reconciliation of a past hurt? Or maybe it is simply the fact that I am incapable of having meaningful relationships, maybe I just need too much, love too much, hope for too much, expect too much, trust too much. I do trust too much. Why, why haven’t I learned, by now I should have known better. I shut off after each hurt and then eventually someone new comes along and I trust that this time they really do care for me, they know me, wouldn’t hurt me. See its not just the fact that this is happening, the pain of it, it is the fact that I hate myself for trusting, I hate myself. Of coarse I have to deal, focus on food and hate, body, exercise, more hate, sleep. If I could I would never wake up. I live because I know it is a sin to kill myself, that is it. I just want to
be unconscious, to be free from
this thing that plagues me
Day and night. The hurt never Stops, the replaying of thoughts stops only while I am busy and then they return like an unwanted flood, souring any moment of happiness I have. The bishop promised me in a blessing that in time *the unnamed friend* would come to appreciate my friendship, I was relieved at first, but after the blessing I realized this doesn’t solve anything. The thing I want the most is the thing that I cant have. Even in time if she comes around I cant. Each relationship has taken pieces of me, shattered and stolen parts of me, but this time is different than all the others. This time, I broke. My hurt , this hurt, will never be healed regardless of her future actions. This time it is more than just this here and now, this is about the future, this time someone has taken every ounce of trust I had left in me. Nothing will be able to repair it this time. As time went on I knew this was so much more than just hurt, that little girl realized that really no one understands, hears, or knows. I have been betrayed my more than just people, I have betrayed myself. Long ago I realized that no one was going to protect me. I realized in that moment that all I had was myself. Yet that human aching for protection and safety was still a part of me, I spent years stamping it out, but therapy retrained me to be open, to reach out. Yet that betrayal of a little girl could not and cannot be fixed, it is lost time, a lost cause. I don’t think I have ever really believed that anyone would get it, but I kept trying anyway. Why? To torture myself? Or to prove a point? To prove to myself that no matter how much I act like I believe deep down I know its just a game to see if I can get them to love me, to love the mask. But I believe now that I got in too deep, this time I allowed my heart to get in the way. I really believed this time. How could I be so stupid? Its human, it just human. I expect more out of myself than just human, human is weakness and I HATE weakness. Years of abuse, neglect, fear, and loneliness have finally caught up with me, in a way like never before. I was always so distracted with self destructing and avoiding that I didn’t have time to be logical or aware cognitively of myself and others, reality, or seeing my patterns clearly. I wasn’t aware of my past and present enough to put them together. This now is the time. This has hit me like a tornado with out the sirens. I didn’t have time to prepare myself for it this time. My defenses were down and my life is torn to hell. There is no semblance of structure or safety now, I am broken.

Arctic ashes

Ashes of ice rain down, soiling, blanketing my snowy white skin.
Each step recorded, the weight of the world imprinted,
absorbed into the light, collapsed into a hardened shell.
Street lamps are silenced, muffled, disguised, such brilliant light dampened by another force of nature.
So quietly I fall drifting through nameless shades of gray, shifting through winds and whirl winds, pulsing, lifting, my emotions sifting.
The gracious ground accepts my gifts of self, lightly resting on infinate layers of icey ash, becoming one with complacency.
The truth always known and ever ignored. The truth that the sun is coming, the fire is burning, the potentiality of our demise is ever reaching.
So I rest with these awkward peices and I lye with these lacey ashes, separate, united through future woes.
Cold and companioned I face up and fess up, one day soon I will return home. Taken to the earthly soil, transcending through this arctic air. Evaporated into the heavens, taken home.
This vision lives on, weathered by the elements, scattered with love, drifting, resting, all but contemplated.
Reborn through the sky, blank stars blinking. Risen from the depths of hell, this sober hopeless hope, one day taken to the tides of white and waves of gray.

Flighty Pursuit

Loneliness breathes, it breeds sheer sadness. To be loved, to be held, no such thing comforts me. I wonder how long it will last this time, this hopelessness, fear, uncomfortable hell. Imperfect as I am I cant get use to it, I expect so much and fail so often. In pursuit of something that doesn’t exist on this earthly plane, my mind takes flight to the future and dies in the present. I wish I could understand why I torture my soul so frequently, expect so much, reason without cause. I am in search of something better in the most painful way. What is so bad about me that I cant let myself be human, be alone, be sad, be hopeful in my hopelessness. Is it my lack of faith in my Savior who loves me? Is it my inability to let go and let God? Or is it just simply my transference of self hate onto my potential inside? No one can calm me, I cant quite reach out, just short of allowing myself to be free, I fumble in the cause. They say I am beautiful, smart, caring, I see a human black hole, invisible in my pain. I want so much to be touched, my heart, tenderly guided, and reassured. Verbally stunted in a tight binding around my tongue, so close to release, to allowing a real interaction of souls. I have resources I could never have dreamed of. I have accomplishments that I cannot comprehend.
I have love in my life that exceeds what I can take in yet I take nothing into my heart, just cognitive recognition. How pointless to have so many blessings, to have great expanses of futuristic journeys, then to have such a lack of confidence and self-love that I bury all things that are good to protect a girl that needs no protection. The past is long gone and yet it lingers in the inability to accept love. Even my own love. What use is a sound of strong beating hearts when my own ceases to beat when I let my hope die. I am strong, I am weak, I cant decide how to move. Somewhere my potential resides inside of me. I use to pray, to wish that someone would save me, with a great swoop they would dissolve my insecurities. I thought that if someone would just see me, really see me that they could erase the self-hate. All along I was the one standing dormant in a spiraling world. Asleep at the wheel yet going no where. I have been dragged and pushed and lifted along the way but I stayed grounded in my ignorance that this was MY war. Responsibility lies within my truth, but the connections refuse to entangle within me. How do I learn to let all this go. The answers elude me, my quest is solitary. No one can hope, or love enough for me, outside forces just aren’t enough. No one can will me to live through this, no doctor can revive me its all said and done. I use to think that therapy could save me, that someone else could pay the price for me. That time is past, I oversee my direction, it is lonely wilderness. No direction, no idealistic patron rooting me on. Just me, here, in a flighty pursuit.

Unnamed

Inside the lines I am colored in there are scribbles of fear and sketches of pain. Circular strokes of winding doom are hues of lifelessness that shadow the light. There is a texture to my façade that goes against the grain, in everyway imperfection confines me. I draw a likeness to an unseen figure, unable to define it I collapse in this vex. The lines are blurred, smeared with ungrateful eyes, messy and ugly, an inappropriate glare.
Outside my surroundings are strange and lifelike yet not enough to evoke a response. Unable to touch them I merely pass by them, in a sensitive path I walk round the unnamed.

Unconscious

What is there to say? Darkness grasps onto mountains of pain, drenching their majesty in solid slumber. Wars of air and gravity fight in the depths of my lungs, inhale, exhale, sword in, sword out. My mind searches, trying to focus the picture in pin pricks of light. I am captured, encapsulated within my own defenses, in silence I fury, unconscious I fight.

Broken Wings

I hurt, all the time, when unoccupied I am dying. I wonder if this is all worth it? Is my life worth it? I am so alone its not even shar its Sara, she cant even trust me enough to tell me she has a boyfriend? This is insane. I am getting use to being alone, its not so bad. The part that kills me is the finality of the situation without any explanation or reason. The only conclusion is that there is something wrong with me. I am not alone because I choose to be, I am alone because of something less definite. Am I somehow acting out some unfinished bit of the past, an unconscious reconciliation of a past hurt? Or maybe it is simply the fact that I am incapable of having meaningful relationships, maybe I just need too much, love too much, hope for too much, expect too much, trust too much. I do trust too much. Why, why haven’t I learned, by now I should have known better. I shut off after each hurt and then eventually someone new comes along and I trust that this time they really do care for me, they know me, wouldn’t hurt me. See its not just the fact that this is happening, the pain of it, it is the fact that I hate myself for trusting, I hate myself. Of coarse I have to deal, focus on food and hate, body, exercise, more hate, sleep. If I could I would never wake up. I live because I know it is a sin to kill myself, that is it. I just want to
be unconscious, to be free from
this thing that plagues me
Day and night. The hurt never Stops, the replaying of thoughts stops only while I am busy and then they return like an unwanted flood, souring any moment of happiness I have. The bishop promised me in a blessing that in time shar would come to appreciate my friendship, I was relieved at first, but after the blessing I realized this doesn’t solve anything. The thing I want the most is the thing that I cant have. Even in time if she comes around I cant. Each relationship has taken pieces of me, shattered and stolen parts of me, but this time is different than all the others. This time, I broke. My hurt , this hurt, will never be healed regardless of her future actions. This time it is more than just this here and now, this is about the future, this time someone has taken every ounce of trust I had left in me. Nothing will be able to repair it this time. As time went on I knew this was so much more than just hurt, that little girl realized that really no one understands, hears, or knows. I have been betrayed my more than just people, I have betrayed myself. Long ago I realized that no one was going to protect me. I realized in that moment that all I had was myself. Yet that human aching for protection and safety was still a part of me, I spent years stamping it out, but therapy retrained me to be open, to reach out. Yet that betrayal of a little girl could not and cannot be fixed, it is lost time, a lost cause. I don’t think I have ever really believed that anyone would get it, but I kept trying anyway. Why? To torture myself? Or to prove a point? To prove to myself that no matter how much I act like I believe deep down I know its just a game to see if I can get them to love me, to love the mask. But I believe now that I got in too deep, this time I allowed my heart to get in the way. I really believed this time. How could I be so stupid? Its human, it just human. I expect more out of myself than just human, human is weakness and I HATE weakness. Years of abuse, neglect, fear, and loneliness have finally caught up with me, in a way like never before. I was always so distracted with self destructing and avoiding that I didn’t have time to be logical or aware cognitively of myself and others, reality, or seeing my patterns clearly. I wasn’t aware of my past and present enough to put them together. This now is the time. This has hit me like a tornado with out the sirens. I didn’t have time to prepare myself for it this time. My defenses were down and my life is torn to hell. There is no semblance of structure or safety now, I am broken.

The deep resonance of a tired mind

The deep resonance of a tired mind. So clearly reverberating against white walled caverns. The sweet scent of despair crawls across my façade, a hint of a smile neatly wrapped for all to see. Where are my eyes? Are they lost searching for a soul inside?
Find me, hold me, rock me, just look without looking, and see me. Can’t you see I’m dying? Who stole the missing piece? I don’t make sense without you.
I pace indirectly towards your memory, lilting, dragging my feet. So painfully drawn to something that should have never been. With you I was sickly whole. My emptiness cradled your fears. So now I search for you in another’s eyes, now I walk alone.
Like a haunting melody, your imprint echoes inside me, cast like a wiry hook and line. I perilously struggle to set myself free; gagging on listless words, choking on the stainless decay. Like a sickness lingering inside me my heart hangs on your absence, your absence defines me.
Tasteless, odorless, poisonous, your memory. I run to the only place that’s mine, hollow heart, whimpering mind, even there you invade.
You know, you felt like home to me.
I've packed up the pictures, set your presence free; I wander around our canvassed walls, collect dust for a living, preserving the inevitable. Relaying, cycling, through each memory drawn to retrace your steps. The worn paths in the carpet, your favorite chair. Here I am after so long realizing your dead, gone, a memory living like a parasite on my broken back.
It’s too heavy to carry, your weighted burdens, your empty words. Clawing my way through the rubble carrying so many moments trying to save myself and save what you left me with.
Ashes,
Dirt
bones so brittle,
who can tell you from this baron place?
This mess is you; it’s us perfected.
Just let it go, you’ll find your way, empty your eyes and empty your pockets. Moving on, repeating the crime, captured inside your wilting sigh, its too much, it’s too late, its too far to run from. Breathing your ashes, letting the sandy tides of you slip through my fingers, gripping gasping you just keep falling, like the sands of time, gravity takes its toll. Buried under the remnants of something sad,
saying softly to myself its time to go,
its time,
its time to let go,
to let bygones be bygones, to stop searching for your imminent shadow. A phoenix flying above the wreckage, born out of the greatest pain, tempered, struck, heavy-laden, free.

Opulant Sky

Opulent Sky
My mind is filled with vast extents of toppling terrain.
Emotions roll over each other ,tensely grinding gears on this hill of the present.
I am impatient for arrival though it’s not soon forth coming.
Oh, the day of surrender cannot come too soon.
My body aches, the journey has not been kind,
the path is narrow, the trenches are deep.
The higher I climb the dirtier my knees,
for falling is frequent and prayer is now real.
The heavens shift slowly dragging tides of white, cool waves of clouds disperse unevenly. Life, that vengeful fiend catches my defenses, in all my glory I rise to the fight.
For inside this restless mind and listless body,
this fallible, venerable shell,
I possess a power so great that no man can define it ,
a light so light no hue can compare.
So brilliant this light my own eyes cannot behold,
my skin, tender flesh so embodies this orb.
Extensions of soul grasp this tangible binding,
grounding mounds of earth to the opulent sky.
Whispers of hope, faith, and fears,
human,
Godly,
striving to weave, powerless, endless, empowered, envisioned.
The flesh falleth,
the spirit flies ,
o’er top the wreckage now understanding.
My feet firmly set onto this wavering bridge, life under , joy over,
keep walking, now running.

The journey tarries , so tired my lungs, so long filling.
Stumbling, stumbling.
I know failure leads to faith.
Tragedy is triumph when purpose finds the heart.
Is there no end to this entanglement, is there no end to this trek?
The ledge offers danger but relief in the sight.
Stretches of time, depths of despair,
great valleys of knowledge serene from this view.
So traveled, I rejoice in this place,
examples of potential scattered round about.
Lengths of life so far behind me,
mere outlines, shadows, previously passed.
Breath taking elegance ,this humble portrait, this scene.
So ordained I now see the expanse of my creation,
life so small, so created to fall.
For I know my creator,
I know my King.
I know Gods great plan in my flesh so contained.
My spirit lifts, my soul now surrenders.
I am sifted, refined and bended at will .
I terry, I waver, stand fast in my soul, encapsulated in all this.
The higher I climb the dirtier my knees for falling is frequent and prayer is now real. The heavens shift slowly dragging tides of white, cool waves of clouds disperse unevenly. Life, that vengeful fiend catches my defenses, in all my glory I arise to the fight.
This truth so courses through my veins, this journey impressed upon my skin.
Uneven, imperfect, mapped upon my head.
Heaven knows my story, angels know my name.
Never forgotten, the universe explains,
stars puncture the darkness revealing all to come.
Human, godly, infinitely woven, the patchwork of one great celestial kind.
ReNae Sorenson

Picture by ReNae Sorenson

Sweet Partings

I am truly grateful for the ability to reason with myself, to think freely and somewhat, sometimes sanely. I am grateful for the ability to see beyond and through my circumstances and difficulties to see the underlying psycho-drama that’s being played out. I am grateful to be able to rest easy without any reassuring close, close relationships. I have ties to people its true, I love many and am loved by many but am not fully enveloped by any. I wonder though if this is what it should be like and what I had before was abnormal. Super close relationships totally entrusting my deepest secrets to people who were incapable of holding them with any care. I am grateful for emotionless partings, or the emotion of satisfaction in parting that allows me to move on unapologetically. As the saying goes parting is such sweet sorrow, or in this case the sweet absence of sorrow.

Scarlet Tears

How faint the brutal smell of this burning wreckage so cleverly hidden, the timbers smolder grounding their faith. Smoking and choke on the fumes of discontent, all hands on deck I’m just a disaster. So you want to know me, don’t look in my eyes, just focus on the deem patina of my speckled disguise. I’m one who knows enough to get by, just enough by step you and run. Why is it my hands reach with out reaching, I mean what is the purpose of me extending a friendly fisted hand shake? I mean I look for answers in another’s company, the answer repeats "you’re better off alone". it’s a crying shame my tears are so salty, I’m too damn human if you ask me. What is this chest heaving that sorely soothes me, never heaving it pulses just beneath the surface. Not present enough to release me, not sufficiently controlled. My wrists cry, my hips sigh, save me from myself. Oh the lengthy road one condemned must follow, so many circles, so many cells, white walls. Imagine just one day of freedom. It says something when the essence of a being begins to wonder if running might be better without a soul. Unencumbered I could fly to any given hell, unweighted by my moralistic mind. Could victory then be sweet? Could I even feel my relief? Would I enter in if then I am not whole enough to keep myself together? Pulled from the inside out, navel, neck and knees, grounded in prayer. Thwarted, noosed, I’ve got me again. My twisted fate my own twisted creation. Crave ReNae, reach, be alone, quick run. B e safe, don’t breathe, get caught, get going. Look for someone screwed up enough to understand, tell all your secrets and wait for the end. How brutal that burning smell that covers the stench of my hellish yell. Ashes settle in my tired lungs. Posted inside me all those sorrows sung.

Caverns

The view is of uncompromising stature, greater than that of my whimsical grasp. Outside my door rages the demon soul snatcher, outside wait’s a dangerous road. I have traveled over many mounds of earth, stepped over, fallen through, and dived into what can only be simply described as a hell of a different kind. One where demons are self-created. The stuff that nightmares are made of. I have done my best to run, to cross myself with unholy protection. The binding of a cursed body has held me together while ripping my soul, undoing my stitching. My silent nature has hidden the forbidden paths into my mind, yet my inner screams can be heard echoing through the empty caverns of ribs and spine. Oh that the tender flesh that embodies so many secrets could be set free to experience guilt free living, to become something other that what it is. Oh to be juxtaposed with my own intolerance, to be studied by a more understanding self. How that little girl cries inside, innocence tainted, tears torn from and thrown to nothingness. She is naked, can you see beyond? She is bleeding can you mend what is beyond mending?