Automatic* writing [10/10/20] with text in italics channeled* by my father

Content/trigger warning: suicidal ideation, self-harm, mental illness

“The mind, once expanded, will never return to its original dimensions.”
[paraphrased quotation by Emerson]


involve / evolve, withdraw
you are capable of more
the moon makes time for you
in clusters of war
take the night / knife
cut the jaw
it’s starlight still significant
in daylight
and waste galore will swim
in shadows behind sights
that philistines will pay to see
then totally ignore
it’s a circus of trying
to win the prize of being born
and energy
resorts to wires + coals
your soul is to tired
you’ve retired in dire
flights of insomnia
what a wife to stay
away from your guts


your flaws on a plate
peppered with mistakes and
you are unadulterated, poor.
Never mind spoil the show
for show — let go — say no.
Weighting / waiting rooms empty
yet a queue at the door
still life, ready to implode
+ leave fuck all behind
pointless parrot mind
endless senseless lullabies + bad dreams
it’ll all be over soon
don’t worry


expectant pros drip-fed glory
+ I’m sorry you didn’t make it
tonight home is your skeleton,
house of bones
where you reside involuntarily
until even after you die
you are still trapped inside
your hovel built
of bones that don’t protect
or shelter you from all that hurt —

just lets it all walk in!
never even tells the evil to leave.
makes it coffee + puts fresh
sheets on the bunk beds of
badness in your head
+ lets the cruelty stay a while
a while longer
trauma outstays
its welcome
forever the doors
painted shut a hair pin
snapped stuck in the dummy lock
misery set up camp and never left
+ your skin gets upset when
you try to open up your body,
try to gain access, get entry, get in
to air it out
a bit — stupid body
so inept at existing that it
is nowhere near qualified for
death. Stupid body.
stupid body. Spot me.
Spot me.


Spangled spine
faulty mind
lines that run down your arms
the source: your brain
the river: persistent
the delta: poisoned
the sea: beyond
you’re not looking properly

stupid body
capillaries of bricks
blood sick + mortar thick
+ neck that begs to be scored
eyes that want to roll
across the floor + organs
shot to shit

I wanna be adored!
The body keeps score
but lost count ages ago
too many assaults
to keep track of anymore
bruises fade
pain remains
I have had the same headache
every day for over a decade.
I hate myself
in the mirror in my head in
dreams on a page behind
a screen in reality in this flawed
flesh this respiring mess in
existening in every way.


[paragraph I don’t want to share that was about the increasingly frequent urges I have to cut my own head off; brainstorm of ideas on how to take my brain out of my skull / remove my head from my body]


I don’t know that a word exists
that means “what it feels like
when you wake up after an attempt
and realise that you
aren’t dead”
it is
an as yet unnamed state
yes dad I know
if what you need doesn’t exist
you must create it
okay I will
I’ll invent the word
for waking, expecting and believing you are dead
and the awful penny drop that informs you
that you are still alive despite your best attempts
to be otherwise

(I’ll make up the word for the devastating confrontation
of taking a breath on the earth you thought you’d left
and it will be correct search it I’ll find it for sure)


Tomorrow + before
you’re sure


Let’s begin. Again Within
For To Be The Shore. It’s in there
somewhere as it was before. Assured.
Once more. Explore some more. Once more.
Once more explore + show some more
Again like before as before once more.


**If you’re unfamiliar with automatic writing/channeling, this article contains a good definition of the concept:


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