I keep digging in my ears trying to stop this feeling of lost dreams burrowing into my eardrums, I have aches in my neck from sadness that passed twenty years ago but the ache in my neck keeps coming back, a little nudge from my consciousness that, yes, those things happened, yes, you were abused and neglected and perverted and used, yes, you were misunderstood and mistaken, misguided and malnourished spiritually, yes, you did see it coming, all the pain, when nobody could understand why you were so sad, why you wanted to end your life before it started, yes it was the truth, you saw all the hurt waiting for you and could not articulate it in a meaningful way.
I feel my toes being pinched when I hear words that hurt, my toes being pushed against the wooden railing of an old couch as I received wire-coat-hanger discipline and metal-spatula love, my toes being smashed against the peeling varnished wood with each strike and scream. Do you understand yet? Do you need some more? My fingers won’t sit still as my world is shaking, as my memories are breaking, as they fall and don’t move, they look so natural, except they’re ice-cold and not moving, when I touch their hands they don’t touch back, it’s not them anymore inside their iceberg-wrecked ships, they don’t have any more smiles to shine on their lips, my fingers won’t sit still, they twist and they tangle, my heart is a newspaper in a dog’s teeth getting mangled, my fingers won’t stop moving, they are trying to grab and hold on, my hands don’t want to believe that they’re gone. Every time something is thrown at me I can’t stop blinking, because I didn’t expect it, I was too busy thinking, my eyelids are hollow when i am awake, when I sleep my eyelids are a door I can’t break, a wall, a prison, I’m stuck inside, I must have commited a crime because my eyes are serving time, condemned and confined to solitary cells, my guided tour through my own private Hells… My legs burn and tingle when I stand too long, they don’t seem to know where I stepped wrong, they complain of unfairness, they cry out for peace, yet I have no furlough, no parole, no peace. My back is a washboard, I clean all the wrong clothes and it slides right off of me, my back remembers stab wounds that were only metaphors, I have a scar on the back of my heart and it itches and I can’t reach it, I was told that when you lose someone special, it will bring up old losses, old wounds re-opened and old hurts made new, but nothing has time to get old for me, they go so fast, I can’t keep up, can I have just a few moments, a few months or years, can I have some more time before I’m dropping new tears and all of the hurts run together… I’m a rock clinging to a hurricane and praying for bad weather, to a God that can’t hear me, I’m in an invisible dentist’s chair getting a root canal and I don’t have any teeth left but they keep drilling, I was told that time and love will heal all wounds but I have time invested and so much love has been rested on my heart and I don’t feel healing. I don’t feel wounds closing. I feel love and I want more, more, please give me more until it can balance out and overwhelm me with the way that trees live and die and become the nourishing nutrients used to grow more trees, there’s a balance and I think someone else must have the other weights from my scale, how am I supposed to let go of all the chains wrapped around my heart?
My elbows and shoulders sometimes feel like they’re breaking, out of nowhere, being crushed or bent.
I keep digging in my fears, to find what’s bewitching me, this itching and twitching will soon be enriching me, my hurts and my aches will all soon be ditching me,
I hope,
I hope.

13 thoughts on “Digging

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