Category: poetry

fucked up

Sophi NielsenLeave a comment

my thoughts still feel much too messy for therapy

i thought the point of EMDR was that you don’t have to talk about shit

that’s what Kamala told me anyway

but the first part of it, “history” laying

just some fancy words for digging shit up

bullshit

if this shit were easy to talk about, do you think i would be here, asking for your help? fucking hell


There’s this safe place exercise i’m supposed to do

i try

but the first place i think of is a fictional RV i made up

okay try again

it’s the mountains where i grew up

fucking beautiful

i feel safe when i look at them

cradled

but my parents could be here at any minute

okay try again

the next place is a beach

indiscriminate

but here, I’m still me, ready to bolt at any second, always in fight or flight

never safe

so i try to go back to the RV

where i do feel safe

but apparently, i have to keep talking while i do

my mind short circuits

how can i tell you what it smells like if i don’t know yet??

how can i feel safe if you keep pulling me back?


why can’t i just be?


i slam the door on the RV

i will not

i refuse to

take anyone here

it needs to stay safe

you need to go


the exercise is called safe place

but i end it feeling unsafe

hunched over

clutching my shoulders

feeling once again too fucked up for therapy

because i didn’t fit into others’ ideas of what ‘should’ work

because i didn’t stuff myself into a box to make myself easier to manage


trying so hard

just to exist

kerouac napoleon alone

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none ever asked jack kerouac and his Mercury tongue

why he never learned to love

one time daughter one time wife

but always the pull of a vagabond life

but no well-meaning busy body to the beat king said

why in the suit of hearts do you end in the red

and if any were to ask today

we would with all ease explain it away

how some journies of the soul are best taken alone

when you are king of the beats with a Mercury tongue


no one asked napoleon with his Ares sword

why isn’t it love you swing your arm toward

what can the word devoted truly mean

if you turn your gaze only to spread your seed

but no friend of the Emporer ever pried

and asked why no woman in his imprisoned abscence ever cried

and if any were to ask today

we would with all ease explain it away

how the path to power is one we must walk on our own

when you are Emporer of France with the Ares sword


so ask me again with my Aphrodite eyes

why i despise the title of someone else’s prize

and why in my waiting my heart grows cold

as adonis in eternal hell waits to grow old

nations rise and fall for a taste of my lips

and yet you still ask me why i have no man to kiss

and if you were to dare to ask today

you could with all ease explain it away

but let me invoke emporer’s sword and the beat king’s tongue

becaue there are paths we were all born and must live to walk alone

dream

Sophi NielsenLeave a comment

I’m freaking out

Because there isn’t enough

It’s okay

You say

You take my hand

Awkwardly

As you take me to fix the problem

Sorry my hand is cold

I say

You don’t need to hold my hand

You laugh me off

Finding it ridiculous

That I don’t need your kindness

I’m relieved

I readjust my grip

This tenuous touch now technically allowed


My problem solved and forgotten

We’re on the floor of my room

Describe my eyes

You dare me

And as I get closer

In physical distance and in mind

Your eyes explode into color

First in threads of gold and brown and green

Second in colors of the rainbow


Come out with us later

You plead

Trying to extend our moments

Yes

I say

But not now

For now

Close the door

And you say

Yes


im sorry

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im sorry you had to say it twice

for me to hear

im sorry i scared you

i didn’t mean to

but these words shutter out of my mouth like bullets

no safety on the gun

the no gun’s sign at the entrance?

yeah, that, uh…

it’s written in a language i can’t understand

i can’t learn it either

i tried

i can mimic the sounds,

string them together

perfect imitation

but the meaning is lost

and anyways

you’d have to tell me twice

im sorry


lavender

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I used to pick lavender from the garden

waiting until evening when the bees had gone away

for in the daytime all the sweet colorful things belonged to them

especially the lavender


“I love the smell of lavender”

he said

gathering a fistful to his nose

letting the scent smother his senses

he was a forgein man

friendly to all but only keeping friends with his own kind

allegedly

even in this foreign land

but he was a kind man who always kept wrinkles

gathered beside his eyes


“I buried a hatchet it’s coming up lavender”

she sang

the notes rang on the membrane of my mind

propelling me up over choppier waters

like a water skeeter

too light to sink


The lavender crept over the driveway

untamed

I admired its ability to escape

to creep away

but remain

gathered and strong


She sipped lavender up her straw

The tall buildings did not judge her but in their gargantuan silence

shielded her

people in the city are always watching each other

but not

with the judging eyes over white suburban picket fences

but with detatched interest

we have both ended up here

but we both wonder

how?


She sipped lavender up her straw

admiring how she had begun to creep away

from all that had scared her


compromise

Sophi NielsenLeave a comment

i know you come from the world of softness and light

but

compromise

your desire to soften over all the things i despise

i just an excuse to rub me away

to erase the unacceptability of my existence

you come from to world of softness and light, see?

so to accept my existence

would be to break apart the fun house mirrors of your reality

because smoke and mirrors

tricks of lights

slight of hand

legerdemain

light hand

that’s all it is

so no

compromise is not an option

because compromise

would erase me