There are times when life seems alright
And I can imagine myself far beyond
The confines of this mind-cage
Times when it’s all friends and loveliness and light
Until I see the illusion (or is it delusion on my part to think
I belong? Did I really see that exclusion, or was I wrong?)
And the bars come crashing back into place
The music plays its dolor and so begins
The seduction of Inadequacy
Who looks at me with bedroom eyes
‘Come Hither’ but with barely-concealed
Glints of marble ice
He draws me to himself and hooks me in
Hands grasping
Ripping off my meagre disguise
He stares;
Huge eyes devour me
Cold, critical fingers
Trail down my physique
I shudder, seeing that revulsion
That sneering disgust
With every grab and pinch and probing tweak.
I stand ashamed
Trying desperately to hide in plain sight
Will bluster cloak my pitiful nakedness?
He drags me out, flailing
I am pitched into the bidding ring
Compared to others
The Brains
The Beauties
The Poets
The Wise
Inadequacy stands by
Whispering in my ear
“You’re such a let-down.
See the audience’s eyes
Slide over you
To bid on those far more beautiful ones
Who in their right mind
Would pay to take you home?
Alas, it will be I
Returning full-handed once again
With burdensome, unsellable prize
They don’t want to take you
Make you part of their dreams
Or a player in their games
Let them come to you and cry
And feel the warmth of your childish affection
The wisdom of your narrow experience
Your simple-mindedness will please them
And maybe lift your spirits for a while
Oh they care – and you shall be grateful
Each time they take you from that
Benign toy-box for a dose of glitter
But until you learn to play their games
Until they let you join in
You will stay there.”
Inadequacy smirks, lip curled
“In the meantime that leaves you as my bedfellow
Which is all you’re good for
So at least you’re good for something,
You stupid, repugnant thing.
Now turn your face away
So I can pretend I’m with someone better”
And he flips me
Tumbling my crumbled, tearstained self to the floor
Rips into me, scratching me
Flaying me
Banging and banging away
Making me raw;
Face twisting in the throes of scorn
Before filling me with his bitterness
And delivering a sharp and vicious bite
His ecstasy: my shame, in full view
Now sated at my expense
He feigns affection
Wrapping himself around me
Stifling me, crushing my wooden limbs
Pouring words like poison oil
Across my ravaged skin
Listening to my frenzied, whispered thoughts
Chuckling as though they amuse him
“Oh my little bête noire
Only you could be this incredibly dim
You plan to share your feelings?
What will you achieve?
But wait, I see
You can’t make them love you
So instead you write to gain their pity
Or sanction for your stupidity
At letting yourself again
Become my plaything.
And so with this transaction
You bare yourself
So they might like you more.
With this you earn your stripes
You fallen foul one –
You whore.”
Oh my! This leaves my heart aching. While the writing is gorgeous, the words themselves are chilling and I am hoping with all that I am that this is not where you are today. I am in a place beyond sadness that you should ever be in this place, my beautiful and far more than adequate friend.
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Thanks Sandy. Today it is. But these things have little to do with common sense or an appropriate view of reality.
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lol (I was meaning to mention something to you) about catching a howling in the distance, not from your world, but from my own…. (and by virtue of) it being my own world, I wanted to warn you (and all other clarks) not (to be more constrained) or (careful and not get too ambitious or hopeful or forgetful (of yourself)… that kind of warning is not what is useful (no only do we all know that already) but sometimes the dark voices uses those words to distract us…
what would be my warning to you (and all other clarks capable of hearing) is that, for us the center does not always hold, that things fall apart (to borrow better words)… but I have noticed a change in the bad times that is a result of know you (and other clarks) and so my warning is not to impart knowledge (of a future danger) but is to ‘witness power’ which (for me) is see where you are, where another clark might be and where I was and know that we have an alternate.
(…and yes, this like that semi-stupid thing on the facebook about how…’if you can read this your brain is….’ but more along the lines: if you don’t get mad at this, it might be useful/valuable)
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From your own too? Ack. That stinks. I wonder if it’s our internal senses of foul equilibrium deciding that NO, we may NOT have a wonderful weekend of pure celebration and enjoyment without the balancing act of something completely shitty to even it out.
But damn. The howling got me good and proper.
Fourteen days, Clark, and we’ll be two weeks past this.
In the meantime we are the warning signs.
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I know that you know that I know that you know what you’re talking about in this poem because we’re chatting via messenger, BUT, holy stinkin’ shiz woman, this is a powerful image of your feelings. You are intensely talented, all yucky feelings aside. I find it interesting that you painted the lure of inadequacy as a vile rapist of sorts. *strokes beard* I like that. It’s very effective, and in many ways very accurate.
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I am fortunate enough to have this tool of writing to actually GET this stuff outta me, yaknow? I dread to think what kind of condition I’d be in if it had to stay all locked inside from lack of ability to express it.
Thanks for thinking it’s powerful. It was meant to be a strong image, and I’m glad it came across. And yes – the offensiveness but somehow the attractiveness and the feeling that there is nothing else you’re worth other than that seduction…it’s all very transferrable to the reality, I think.
And yes, I know you know I know. And in that, I’m grateful, not that we know, but that it makes us somewhat comprehendable.
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Wow. Lizzi. I have to agree with Beth here. The imagery is powerful….and just so you know, this vile creature of inadequacy has absolutely no reason to be visiting you at all. 😉
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Michelle, you’re very sweet, thank you, but as I said to Sandy – it’s not a creature which is overly obedient to logic. I *know* (somewhere in me) that things aren’t that bad, yet…there are times when it just rears up and bites me, and I’m trapped until circumstances or people manage to pull me out again. Thanks for the vote of confidence though, on the poem and the other thing 🙂
(In case it’s not clear, I’m out again now, and things are better today)
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*Hugs* Glad you’re feeling better!!
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Thanks 🙂
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Powerful and heartbreaking. I want to sweep you up and hug you…right after I’m done beating that voice into silence. But I understand…I understand these feelings and that tune in your head, because I think we have all heard it before and it aches when it gets a foothold. I know you are “out” of it now, and I hope it is a long, long, long (forever) time before that voice comes back.
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Thank you, my friend, SO much. I know that you have my back on this, and thank you for your constant support and encouragement and the true influx of good that YOU are in my life. *HUGE hugs*
I hope it’s a long time before it comes back, but…yaknow 🙂
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I know too well the feelings of inadequacy. As others say to me I say unto you: you are an amazing person, Lizzi. You are funny, intelligent, loyal, caring, and one helluva writer. I know you won’t believe me because I don’t believe it when people say the same things to me, but I hope my words find at least a little purchase in your brain. After all, I don’t just offer anyone my help to move their blog over…
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Dear chap, you are kinder to me than I deserve, and I am truly grateful for your friendship and support. This thing hasn’t to do with logic, though, and in the moments when I am caught, nothing but the darkness makes sense. My light is found in the words and support I receive from others, even if I find them hard to believe or uncomfortable to hear – the fact that they care enough to say them speaks volumes and helps more than you know. Thank you, my friend.
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I know it has nothing to do with logic. I battle the very same demons, sadly. And you deserve more kindness than I can give you.
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We both do, in that case. And I suspect we know (and reject) this just as much as one another. But we each understand. So there’s that.
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Yes. It’s all quite buggered. (Did I do that right?)
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Yup. That’ll do 🙂 The other option is “It’s all buggered up.” I have a weird language…
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It’s fun.
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