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Hatchet Mastication, Tongue Stumbler


My whole outlook has been changing. Public to private to public? I panic hard. I'm afraid of giving up control of my time. I'm afraid of getting stuck in a rut, afraid of not being worth anything, afraid of irrational things. I need help though. I need to start somewhere so that I will have started. I need to type my feelings out and keep them private instead of keeping them private and not typing or trying to sort them out at all.
I spend so much of my time panicking about what to do with my time. This poem... I shall break the law of poetry, and explain it here bit by broken bit. :

[Hatchet Mastication]

Howling silence sirens, hounding and hassling;
Unraveling the sound mind with nuclear noiselessness.
Expressionless essences, sequestering a senseless spectacle
of deafening, candid canned-in energy.

Frenzied immensity, overwhelming.
Swelling quelled well, bursting, surging.
Fury inferno; Excelling accelerant:

Diminishing minutes, instantly;
Exacerbating incidents, significantly.
Passing in tense, intense, grasping intents.
Instants, twice entwined in winding time.

[Title: Chewing on Axes]

1: Howling silence sirens, hounding and hassling;
- When I was in 3rd grade, I read a book with my class called "the Hatchet" by Gary Pulsen. There were a few lines in the book about the true rarity of actual silence; Legitimate silence. Starting from then, I would obsessively search for it. In order to be able to seek silence, one must pay it with entirety of being. It became exhausting, and enslaving. Silence became louder than noise; Bullying me into jumping out of my own skin at the drop of a pin.

2: Unraveling the sound mind with nuclear noiselessness.- My mind bludgeons itself in noiselessness.
-One second drones on infinitely; For centuries: Twelve hours cry right by on one tear-drop-tide, made
by the blinking of an eye.

3: Expressionless essences, sequestering a senseless spectacle-
- I get so caught up contributing to the silence, it swallows me whole. It takes up more of my time than is acceptable, I exert nothing but stiffened nothingness for long drawn eons.

4:of deafening, candid canned-in energy..-
The energy that comes of exerting nothing but nothingness is greater than any other fathomable force of energy. It is of God; It must be. It is meditative, and sometimes it is more powerful than I am wise enough to handle. Especially when I feel so predominately negative and ashamed of my knot-ness.

5: Frenzied immensity, overwhelming.
- The epitome of my confusion infused with the magnitude of this energy; cubes the overall force of mentioned confusion, with a dehibillitating lack of a hint for direction.

6: Swelling quelled well, bursting, surging.
- I am not a well; I'm a river, so i overflow and engulf myself with my own substance.

7: Fury inferno; Excelling accelerant:
- Self destruction: In the power of confusion, one's strength has become own weakness. Hero has become the villan. Has become neutral. Combustin’ into nothin’

8: Diminishing minutes, instantly;
- panic makes time fly. Makes your time less meaningful,

9: Exacerbating incidents, significantly.
- What you are dwelling on, you will remember strongly while foregoing the moments spent ruminating; Paying them into the past, or the future. Not realizing 'now' is spent until it too becomes then, and you're trapped in the past, tumbling, fumbling; Looking back.

10: Passing in tense, intense, grasping intents.
- Presently; oriented to gaze into what is coming, or what has passed; Not knowing how to look at the moment in hand.
-The reason for such abundance of considerations in the first place, was how deeply it matters to you- and if you stAy here living on repeat, you add a negative demeanor to it, which you can’t ascribe..
11: Instants, twice entwined in winding time.
- When you obsess about something which is about to happen, then; It happens, Then; You obsess over the happening of this moment; It has become thrice entwined in winding time. This is why it is wise to attempt to put as much time possible in the present moment.
Fragment of Conversation)
Buddy:: "to me all it is is a bunch of big words that rhyme together. there isn't much of a message like in most poems that the average reader would get. "
Me:: Its about how i feel all wound up with emotion and i want to scream so bad i have so much pent up, but instead i just sit in silence while this wildness keeps growing inside. It makes time
Fly to boil this insanity in my guts

It sucks and in addition to making time fly;-it makes time suck too. -And its a fucking contradiction because time is fucking supposed to move slow when you're suffering.

Why worry about the future now, or ruminate on the past with now when you've invariably, been there or will be there when those tenses are the present!?

Silence fucking eats me alive because then i get all weirdly quiet and i try so hard not to make any noise and i become so irritated by the sound of myself setting a drink down on the surface, i start to wonder if my typing is waking up my family. I can hear the neighbor across the street coughing, and i wonder if they can hear me breathing too hard. Which I even realize while wondering, is fucking ridiculous..
-But then i wonder since i can hear my neighbor coughing all the way across the street; Can my family hear my swallowing, (natural swallowing), across the hall? So i start being all fucking weird and either start drooling so i don't swallow, or i get cotton mouth and i just have to stay so quiet. After a cetain amount of time that silence has been there; its impossible to turn on music or tv or anything; and i eat myself alive for hours and hours.
-Also kind of expressed with the feel of these words- choking out so many consonants, it actually gives you a sample sensation of eating yourself alive, with one potential bite; While the acrobat tongue twists, and contorts, to avoid being crushed by teeth. (Said in Haste)
I really need to get to the heart and soul of the matter of my panic. It's ultimately unmanageable, but life is becoming more intolerable than this anxiety if I just sit and let it consume me.
'Trust', requires a level of expectation which I'm unsure of how to approach, 'unpredictable,' with. Is it the expectation I hold for what comes, what is keeping me from appreciating the moment? I feel so full of sorrow over my grandma not needing me anymore,
{my mom not taking chemo anymore 2/2019}
but is this not what I prayed for? Of course I want her to
{have relief 2/2019}
recover! What is the root of this sorrow? Fear; Knowing that the next leap is a greater risk than any of the last. Fear of losing control of my time; Fear of losing the drive to write, Of not being able to spend integral final breaths next to my grandma. Knowing that she is (.), and I will have to part with her some day sooner than I'd prefer. Knowing that she doesn't deserve to outlive me, it would be an injustice. I'm afraid of my own doubt, my tendency toward suicidal fantasies; Knowing I would never come close to living out these fantasies. Dwelling, Nervousness, Worry, Dread, Fear, Sorrow, Strangled hope.


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