Archive for the 'katy' Category

low, low, low

Written on November 20, 2009 by katy. 1 Comment

i don’t know how to approach. their silence, intense and compressed, living as a stone in the belly or the throat.  it radiates, it has gravity, and it tamps me down so i am slinking towards them, slow, on the ground, chest hugging stone. and even that only gets me so far. no closer. no farther.

is it weather? is it only feelings? it is somewhere we do not know how to go. except them.

can’t get towards it, but also nowhere away.  hurt beyond hurt, shock beyond shock, so stunned they can pretend not to be. sounds, smells, movement are an affront & a threat. we bring them out of the close, dark places into the brilliant, searing, unconcerned world. and my head aches, deep & low & tense everywhere. nowhere away. and my chest aches, short breath, slower and lower with each one. shaking like a background, like inhabiting a vibrating world and then suddenly removed. your frames are no good here. words are no good here, but someone told us we get at those wordless places, worldless places, better than anyone. how can we not try? but oh, how sour the notes sound, every approximation like a loud, flat horn or a wide, bright cymbal. everything’s stopped.

they are as serious as children, literal and present. any gesture to them is wrong. there is no holding and no light. no gentle touch. no casual thought.

& the hurt is low, & there’s nothing else. there’s no-one, no-one, no-one. there is no away.

it will never be enough

Written on November 3, 2009 by katy. 0 Comments

body, nobody, nobody there, nobody cares, nobody. i was a person once, but i lost it. there is so little room. oh god blood would be nice, but we’re afraid we forgot how. almost did last night. took a bath with not much water so the red would be more beautiful. read instead. good boy. keep the damper shut. tight, tight. don’t let go. all your value is in your tightness.

there’s something missing lately, as usual, newly. somewhere we can’t get. we are only this much ourselves now because the time of year coincided with rejection. so close, so far. nobody nobody, nobody. my range of expression is laughable. sitting naked and cold; refusing to get warm is all our freedom. no cutting, no quitting, no dying, no moving, no running, no connection. nothing. and this, too, this isn’t working. no surprise. tight, aching, friendless, loveless, forever. why can’t we reach despair again? what is so faraway, so ridiculous, about despair?

is pressure and tightness, all unforgiving, so fulfilling? oh, i’m not fair, i’m never fair. would you be? there is no room for that stuff.

i won’t give myself up for anything but this

Written on March 4, 2009 by katy. 0 Comments

here; and here. don’t they eat you hollow? aren’t you still nothing? you can’t feel this? this tired warmth, this unceasing empty knot. along here; and here. it is years of uneasy tautness. it is dull fire, feeding on nothing, nothing to eat. it resolves into knobby hardness, pushes here; and here. this body is not moored. this flesh is too obedient. there’s nowhere to go, no streambed. you really mean to say it’s not there for you?

brain scary

Written on March 18, 2008 by insiders and katy. 1 Comment

tactile, more than anything. proprioception too – oh so taut – quivering with stillness. weak too, liking giving way. wide-eyed and heavy-lidded. nothing comes into focus, but it’s close now, close enough for menace. each bit slips away if we think about it too hard, then slips back moments later. nothing will be still. i am frozen, taut, but it is spinning, around and around and around my head. on their way past, they make lewd gestures or make us feel pain or blanket our head with blackness. my limbs could be tied with cord, with wire. fingers laced up together. it is up to me. nobody will ever rescue me. family may be scattered, but safety is an illusion. they are watching us. christmas on easter, it’s christmas on easter. we are so fake. i fucking hate easter. it would be best to cease to be. nobody will ever save us.

tourniquet by crochet

Written on March 16, 2008 by insiders, kat and katy. Closed

sometimes there is an itch to write or at least to feel, but all that comes is song lyrics. i am suddenly sleepy, i am directionless. but there is something… i can’t get at it. i want to get clean, i want to start fresh. i realized in therapy that homework, all homework, is hard because of something in our past. the most fascinating subject can become something i avoid with all my strength, if i am taking a class about it. i’d really like to fix that issue. i got a flash of how much more pleasurable school would be if i could stop running from what i want to learn.

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i think i prefer to stay inside

Written on January 27, 2008 by katy. 1 Comment

maybe if i write, there would be something. there sure as hell isn’t any homework getting done, nor does that seem like a possibility anymore. i have a slight breath of hope, letting that go, even though i know i am fucking up my life considerably by not doing it. compassion helps a little. i would do this if i could, truly i would. i’m not just looking for ways to get away with being lazy. i think about the shape of my life, and try to remember there are ways out, no matter what. if it turns out i can’t do this program this soon, i can meet with someone or other and ask to defer my acceptance. there always has to be a way.

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one step at a time in my own mind

Written on January 22, 2008 by kat and katy. 3 Comments

i was so ok for really so long, so many days in a row, the peace didn’t leave, not to an intolerable degree. i am still ok, i’ll be ok, i haven’t tumbled into unmitigated pessimism. but i’m not ok, i’m not ok, i’m not not not. i cannot stay grownup or functional. i cannot stay calm and careful of myself. i cannot do homework, i cannot refill my prescriptions, i cannot reach out, i cannot wrap myself up in myself either, i cannot be content. i can’t find my voice.

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is i don’t think you’re being fair

Written on January 13, 2008 by katy. 0 Comments

somewhere nearby i am singing, deep deep at peace. oh my god, even here, even now, healing is worth it! but also not, as much as ever. the dark and light together. i could cry, maybe. i could expand, like the universe. i fill my skin more each year. k– gave me rich and strange and new things in that regard, more than anyone else ever, but i survive in the after too. i still continue forward. it is a very fine thing, to be alive, to have skin. especially to have skin.

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there’s a place that we must go

Written on November 28, 2007 by katy. 0 Comments

i know there are words for me somewhere. day after day, i don’t write, because it turns prosaic or repetitive or both. i start to think there is nothing new to say anywhere. but there must be a way in which writing is a renewable resource. no matter how many times i’ve dipped into this inkwell. we don’t stop feeling, though at times during school we do a good approximation. we don’t reach anything anymore. so hyper-focused on the present. so functional. so exclusively functional.

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i won’t break down

Written on November 24, 2007 by katy. 1 Comment

falling, and falling, and falling, and stupid, and worthless, and wasteful. resources given to me are wasted; i relapse into stupidity on a chronic basis. why try, when there are so many lives that are more important? more functional? better use of space. it always comes back to this, no matter how much time it is away. supposedly, the good times outweigh the bad. but that would only work if the world were underpopulated. there are already too many. why not throw out the faulty units? at least make suicide legal and easy.

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