‘Teeth, Time and Choice, put to Rhyme’

Triggers: suicidal allusions, violent ideation, depressive states, unstated deviant traits

‘Teeth, Time and Choice, put to Rhyme’

I’m trying to fight the darkness that bites, the part of me without any light, loads of hungry teeth come alive…gnashing, grinding, starve-sharpened desires

I can hear them chatter and clamber, demanding I give in, feed them all with void-fueled sin, such acts I don’t wish to take part, yet full of mocking laughter, for the teeth know my heart

Soon I’ll begin no matter my state, the teeth’ll not quit and it seems far too late, tho I’ve got’em behind a vast door, it’ll not hold forever, of that I’m quite sure…but if I’m able to keep them at bay, they’ll just hollow me out insisting on their say, knowing I’m conflicted, torn and addicted, they’ll continue chewing til I collapse and they win, making me damned by deviancy, complicit again thru my gnawing sin

But I have to admit writing helps quite a bit, it quiets their chatter while reinforcing the door, it even makes me believe I’ve a chance, to be who I can…kinda like when I dance, more than darkness and teeth, sharp edges and grief

Letters and language, writing and strangeness, a bevy of beautiful ideas or a nightmare drenched in bloodied tears, it matters not the subject at all, only that I’m able to type words in a thrall, being inspired by a Muse’s sublime, shivery terror midst awesome wonder aligned

Tho I know it’s me as the brain doing its thing, I love the concept of mentally sharing inspiration’s sting, I’m prone to delight in any connection, especially when it comes to creativity’s intersection, altho artistic distraction may come at a cost, for awhile I’ll not wander the abyssal dark of teeth, all but lost

This piece is my way of putting off what seems inevitable, at the same time allowing me to express inner parts of my darkness indelible, giving myself a pause in which to think, to make a choice for one more day as time flies, gone in a blink, and I can’t keep up, but I can choose not to sink

I’ve come near to the end of this poem, uncertain still of my intent, but the teeth aren’t so loud at the moment, I feel less like the door won’t want to hold ‘em, and it’s all such a relief…even if temporary, I cling to this love of letters and phrasing, language and pacing, my mind firing bright with engagement, for once up and out of the dark, neurons quick-sharing a spark…

Now I know what Kafka meant, the metamorphosis and inner torment, but always at my fingertips a choice, to foment my darken depths or shine a light one word at a time, which is to say writing’s a way to give my teeth a voice to be read, onto the page and out of my head

Ah, that’s so much better, a bit of peace amid calmer weather, in the eye of deep-dire storm, I’ve found resolve to lockdown the door, to stand alive’s my choice for today, who knows what tomorrow’s state’ll be on my say?