pressuries

A lot of times my motivation is fear.
Anxiously navigating, reacting ahead
taking stakes off the table without legs.

Trying to prevent images from becoming real,
big „ifs“ along the way – how’d you know anything?

Wasting time I could use wiser, cleaning a white shirt in a sink full of dirt,
receptivity’s blind to any kind word.
I understand the chances of threats but it’s not about facts.
Feelings differ from reason – the truth’s various versions.

Still can be dragged in suddenly, by that addictive behaviour of caring too much.

Steering through modern wild life threatened by a state of mind,
the worst enemy is what you make it.
I feel stressed though nothing happened yet,
so nothing falls apart but I do.

It’s not a clear vision now. Not what I am aiming for.
Just words to summarize a rough mental state.
I need to step out of my way.

Life can‘t live up to my expectations, that are idealistic enough to be pipe dreams.
Life offers no paved ways so it seems.
Instead every now and then it pulls some obstacles out of its eternal sleeves.
Wether to consider them as challenges or opportunities is up to me.

I knew there would be struggle when I dared to accept,
it is no life worth living lying with my mind tied in my bed,
hoping someone would comfort me with a safety net.

I’ve still got that tunnel vision, like being in a shaft,
occupied by anxiety at one end and guilt at the other exit.
I often don’t know how to deal with myself,
when I feel trapped and the air gets harder to breathe.
I feel useless breathing used air, I don’t move or act in any way and stay put by myself,
breathing the same oxygen, filling my heart with regrets.
Still I breathe, even if I wish my lungs would just quit,
forced by the self-pity, which pressures on my lungs and I am getting headaches
from holding back the tears I’d wish you would see when they shed.

I’ve been asking myself for quite a while
is it really the way I want to spend the numbered days of my life?
Worrying about consequences that might never take place,
I’d like to choose to accept that the unexpected is what life mainly contains,
and that it’s beautiful that there is no plan.
I imagine with serenity I would be even able to enjoy all of what’s ahead.
If anything is certain, we all will perish,
there’s no way around and no alternative to it.
The only outstanding request I haven’t actively answered to yet,
is if I want to fill the days before they’re gone with anxieties and dread,
or instead…
eventually climbing out of that hell hole – a protective nest
sounding comfortably seductive under a hoisted false flag,
it’s the same old fear and all it does is holding back.

I fall back when I fall for you
I loose the seatbelts when you accelerate my tempo
the heart is pounding against all reasons
you embody what I’ve been always looking for
a way to disarm myself from any confidence once more

there is a familiar abyss in the depth of your eyes
there is this dark side within me, I do always despise
while it is your darkness I find comfort in, I don’t know how to enlighten mine

what I despise most about the days I am suppressed by fear
is not the silencing overcoming me, not the safe house it locks me into,
but the disability to act progressively
I don’t allow myself to be outgoing, because I start from the wrong foot
can you endure me then, when I could not?
all hope built collapses and the positivity vanishes, when I am tied up again in my mind and bed
there is a way out of the syncope but multiple ways to faint again

There has been a war going on,
it’s not clear how it’s going to end,
but I know that I lost some battles that I also won.

So it is me, the enemy,
I forced myself into situations I couldn’t handle,
to see me failing allegedly.

What if actions have never been the failure
and instead from doing wrong,
all my troubles come from self-evaluation?

The supreme court behind my eyes,
sentenced me to a life as a prisoner of mind,
I could not see your chains and you did not see mine.

The ideal image I’ve measured myself with,
I haven’t lived up to for 33 years,
it’s about time to outgrow it.

The dark movement I’ve ran from,
is not the boogeyman, I’ve expected to hunt me down,
but my own shadow I should walk along.

I still try to understand,
in the mornings after intense dreams.
You and what you’ve done are on my mind again
and the visions are anything but clear.
Looking at our photos and try to figure out what you felt in those moments,
I struggle to find the one from where I can’t tell any more.
Obviously I can’t say anything is obvious,
that must be the hardest thing about all of it.
You are still around nearby until tomorrow,
but you don’t insist on meeting me to talk about the horrors.
I would still like to understand what started the downward spiral,
naive believer that I am I still think about you silently.
I need to protect myself and I don’t know what’s in your head
I try to keep away every thought about you in bed.
But  somehow you are still on my mind and in my heart,
and I hope some of that was true of what you said.
I am waiting no more,
I don’t know what for…
and I don’t know if there’s a chance you will ever come back knocking at my door,
neither do I know If I will still be here to open up for you.

A mirror in front of me, showing me what others see when they interact with me,
though I still don’t know who I am looking at.
I try to focus but every time I do, I see where I headed wrong and went not straight through.
I blame myself for the tiniest mistakes, then I cut all chords because I can’t handle myself.
Why do I even run? I know I have to wake up as the same man again.
The truth is, it doesn’t get easier just the lacks of confidence get greater.
I thought you understand what I go through and be my saviour.
But you are all in trouble yourself,
and I’ve tried to be the guy you want to rely on, if nobody else.
But I’m just offering, it’s up to you to be my guest,
I just keep the heart open for you in my chest.
So clock’s been ticking and in between I’d gone mad.
I guess I’ve kept waiting for you to tell me that you already left.

Days are getting darker again, and it’s getting late early in November.

Today I am smaller.
I won’t answer your calls so stop making it harder. Call you back tomorrow.
I suddenly forgot how to take care of myself after what happened this morning.
You also find me shrunken when you look at my posture.
Yes, we do make our own realities,
if we feel shit we might even look like it.
If you can imagine it, you can do it.
I think there’s no hope any more so what is my dreamer story?
For the mentally ill a set back is not a call to try again.
It’s hiding, denying and to avoid that you eventually repent.
But you know me and I do as well.
Why is it so hard to learn from all that mistakes?
Maybe it’s not about learning to improve but accepting the failure.
Maybe I should tell myself what I always say to other people.
Failure is part of human nature.
A perfect life is not what you truly would admire.
It’s failing and hurt, it’s hope for the disturbed.
And even if I know all that, today I’ll shut all doors and lie down my heavy head.