my depression manifests as
“you’re not good enough.”
my anxiety manifests as
“nothing you’re doing is right.”
together they scream
a cognitive dissonance
like a banshee shrieking
into the pit of hell.
one line in a contract
that i agonized over
and was too nervous to
talk to the attorney about
because i ask too many questions,
i am over-burdensome
they are busy and important
and i am nothing.
i should know things,
every thing, all the time.
the sun reflects off koin tower.
behind it a wall of gray
dominion of clouds.
remove my glasses,
pull my hand down my face.
breathe.
search through the labyrinth
for a fragment of solace
inside myself. something.
it’s friday, at least.
i’ve got that. i can hold that.
“this poem sucks” i think
as i write it. you might agree.
Author: zornog
-
005p: breathe.
-
004p: stickums
bright vibrant colors on thin squares
–we draft notes in thick black ink
upon your waifish pulpy paper hairs,
bold medallions of what we think
in languid moments of lucidity,
between the mulchy drone of living,
acting with intense perfidity
to feign a penchant for forgiving
errant thoughts among the turbulence
of being alive. each thought a lesson
brought to you by the letter C,
the number 6, the papal blessing,
a twine-bundled copse of sage set free
with fire and oxygen and astronomy.
we write this on you, you see. -
003p: kissed
i was staring out
at the brilliant
orange sunrise when
i realized i hadn’t
been kissed in a
very long time.
suddenly the dryness
across my lips
felt more potent.
time flies when
you’re depressed.
next thing you know
it’s 2018 and
you glance back
at the hole you’ve
been climbing out
of. you imagined
several feet but
it’s just a couple.
and then, like when
you remember you
have a thick,
muscley tongue
in your mouth,
i remembered the
press of soft lips
against my own,
the half-open mouth
and awkward angling
of two protruding
noses. the innocent
occasional clacking
of front teeth.
the laughter.
the moment in-between
when you lock eyes
and share each other.
i realized i
missed that.
i felt embarrased
by it, like i didn’t
deserve it. tried
to shake it off.
failed.
the sunrise is just sun now. -
002p: broke lament
they say
“trust your gut”
and
“travel more”
and
“follow your heart”
these people
born from coffers
of money.
they say
“take risks”
from a trapeze
over a safety net,
each failure
a tumble
into waiting arms,
a brief respite
into a savings
account,
or a desperate
phone call
to a parent.
they get jobs
to see what
it’s like
to be people,
and quit as soon
as it’s hard.
they wonder why
you’re always broke.
no–
not they–
you
always wonder
why you’re broke.
& it’s because
you never had
money to begin with. -
garden bar 1.2.18
The year begins
With the ebb and flow
Of a headache.
I keep watching people from the bleachers
And glance away when they spot me spying.
A woman whose butt I admired
As she walked away has returned,
Seeking a seat in the same bleachers
I’m sitting at. (I couldn’t help it,
It was the jeans. It’s always the jeans.)
Every woman is wearing riding boots,
Well dressed equestrianesses.
Some guy looks like my friend Ryan King
If he had a Hitler mustache.
I should make sure it’s not him. -
001p: i went for a run this morning.
i went for a run this morning.
the cold air bit at my fingers
like windy piranhas, my breath
labored like 19th century coal miners.
a lot of it was walked.
watched the artificial time
switch to midnight, the first morning
of the new year, then promptly
went to sleep. no alcohol,
no friends, no parties.
a classic end to a baseline year.
this morning, a run.there is a hidden well where
my resolve resides, a secret cavern
in my own body. i search for it
every two weeks with my therapist,
but it is elusive. it rests and feeds
in fits and spurts. but it’s there.
it’s somewhere. and it finds me.
and it wrests lethargy and sloth from me,
and into my bloodstream it injects
a force of movement
that circulates for a few days
before subsiding.
that’s why i need to find it, so
i can squeeze the life out of it
and into me, forever, and feel better,
forever. but that’s not how life works.
i went for a run this morning. -
2017 state of things
Hello hello hello.
2017 has been a shit year for the world. Thankfully we have Facebooks and Twitters and Tumblrs and all sorts of social media that you can reference regarding that particular breakdown of our country’s fundamental governing. This is my blog, so of course I will talk about myself.
For me 2017 has been more mediocre and lacking in ambition than anything else. There have been some high points: I was in a play, the first legitimate paying gig in like three years. It was a lean cut of Shakespeare’s Troilus & Cressida, done at Lone Fir Cemetery here in Portland, by Portland Actors Ensemble. We had a great cast and an equally great run, and I am thoroughly proud of the production and the people within it. It, for a brief moment, sparked a renewed passion to act again, though to be honest that spark has since dwindled, for reasons I’ll talk about later.
I have a new job, working as a Legal Secretary for the Oregon Department of Justice. My first state job. I started in September and still have a couple of months left on my trial period. To be honest I took a positional hit for this job–I was a Legal Assistant at my old job, though jobwise it was much more on par with being a paralegal[1. If you’re confused about the hierarchy of these titles, you know how a rectangle is sometimes a square but a square is never a rectangle? Yeah, it’s that kind of confusing.]. Either way, definitely a higher position than secretary. I’m hoping that this is the beginning of an upward climb through the state system, either through the DOJ or somewhere else in the state. I appreciate the job security, the benefits, and the ability to get my student loans forgiven.
Also, the Dept of Justice’s online intranet site is called DOJO, which is fun.
In February I wrote some really great songs as part of FAWM, which I hope to throw onto a website this year.
In November I finished NaNoWriMo for the second time in the 15 years I’ve attempted. The book is called Leap Year One and I hope to get it ready for a first draft by March or April or something like that.
So I have a lot to be happy about. And yet so many other things are nagging at me.
-
garden bar 12.19.17
Salad with chopsticks,
Your Greco-Roman hairdo,
A Caesar eating caesar
With Chinese silverware.
Some thoughtful person
Blares Shania Twain
On the Garden Bar speakers.
Their holiday tree is
The most non-denominational
Thing ever witnessed. -
garden bar 11.8.17
Shuffleboard bros,
You take this game
Too seriously.
Stacked pucks
And windbreakers,
Inevitable bar fables
About the women
You’ve “taken.”
A fireside chat
About your golf game.
I am envious
Of your simplicity.12 -
garden bar 10.27.17
Aimless child
In evil olive chair
Swivels about
As bored
As the sky
Is blue.