Posts Tagged ‘Death of Dreams

07
Mar
17

Rip

Go ahead

And rip it

Off,

Yank it,

Tear it quickly,

I don’t care

If it takes

The hair

And the skin,

Just rip it off

And get this awkward

Silent suffering

Over.

Pull the bandages

And all the tape

Off

In an inelegant and impatient

Jerk,

And let

The bleeding

Begin

Anew,

So that

The healing

Can finally

Begin.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

March 7. 2017

05
Feb
17

I *am* alive

But

The thing is-

I’m not

Dead,

Yet.

I’m still

Here,

For now.

Due,

In no small part

To sheer stubbornness

And fear

Of the other

Options.

I’m not

A survivor

Of strength,

Or determination,

As much as

I am a survivor

Of paralysis-

Too scared

To move,

Too afraid

To do anything,

Too committed to the starry-eyed Piscean ideals of love and desire and wanting to have things be the way they ought to be because it is the right way.

I don’t

Keep breathing

Because

I am

Conquering fear,

But because

I am

Unwilling

To be

More bold.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 5, 2017

16
Oct
16

Seven letters

I used to believe that

Love lasted forever,

And I suppose

A part of me still does,

Possibly,

But I’ve realized that

Forever is a lot bigger

Than its seven letters.

Who can truly understand

The meaning

Of infinity

Of time?

Unlike the billions of Sagan’s stars,

Which are theoretically finite,

Love is somehow

Transcendant

And limitless,

Exceeding both time and space,

While our physical bodies

Are not.

I ache to believe

That

Love will last

Into an eternity

I can not fathom,

And will never feel,

But the practicality of heartbreak

Produces a cold and unfeeling reality

That suggests

Love is far less permanent than the dreams of an expanding universe that flows into a darkness that is unfettered by boundaries of physics or romance.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 16, 2016

15
Oct
16

I think

I just don’t see it happening-

That I’ll be able

To let go

Of the fear

Enough

To be open

To love or loving

After this.

And yet,

Because I am

Who I am,

And love

Is

The oxygen in my blood

Keeping me alive

Most days,

I can’t

Believe

The fear

Or the pain

That is chewing on me now

Can really

Keep me

From doing what I’ve always done-

Letting the heart

Talk the brain into

Suspending the disbelief

That “this time might be different.”

I already know

I’ll find a way

To ignore

My own warnings

And proclamations of

“Never again!”

For me,

To live

Without love,

Is to die,

And though death sounds welcoming

At times,

I’m probably still

More afraid of death

Than another heartbreak.

I think.

15
Oct
16

Confessions

There are things

That

I will have

To carry

To my grave,

Unable to

Speak them,

And make

The confession

Of what I did,

What I feel,

What I want,

Or who I am.

There are things

I can

Never

Give words to,

Because

Their simple existence

Within

My mind

And memory

Are

Too much

For me

To live with.

The truth

Is

Supposed to set us

Free,

But mine

Hangs

From my neck,

Like a heavy chain

Attached to an anchor

Falling deeper

Into the abyss,

Where water goes

From sparkling blue

To darkest black.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 15, 2016

12
Oct
16

Do it already

You’re already

Gone

So just go-

Put a bullet

Through the brain

Of this

Uncomfortable silence

And awkwardness.

Do it already-

Just cut

The last tendon

Of this

Severed limb,

And let it

Fall

To the ground

With certitude.

It won’t

Grow

Back,

But I can

Adapt

To this

Limbless reality.

The infection

Is spreading

And other organs

Are in jeopardy,

So save what’s

Healthier,

And cut out

The gangrenous

Rot.

It’ll feel

Better,

Eventually.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 12, 2016

02
Oct
16

Don’t Tell Me

Don’t tell me

You do,

When

You don’t.

Don’t tell me

You can,

When

You won’t.

Don’t say

It was,

When

It isn’t.

Don’t tell me

You did,

When

You stopped loving me, and caring, or even noticing I’m still here.

It would be

Better

If you stopped

Telling me

That you

Want

What I want

Too,

When

You have

No idea

What it is,

Or even what

You want.

You stopped caring

That

You no longer know

Who I am.

If I wake up

Dead,

You’ll help

My family

Bury me,

Out of a sense of obligation and duty that no longer means anything to you, but you’re too uncomfortable to admit that you simply don’t care at all anymore.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 1, 2016




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