White Noise

White Noise

Violent white walls, bleached of echoes, sterile

choking voices

Submerge her in a shell of fear

hidden from the world , to writhe

in consequence

Bind inconstant hands away from

knives. Draw forth her

pain

Inject it into her temporal veins

as a drug

Direct line to her soul. Shatter’

that life

Violent metal, shining it haunts

Imitation, the chains

The chains in her mind

With crooked tools, bind her straight jacket

for blood appears

With straight files, grind her bent

frame

Consume desire, mocking, distorting

dreams

Haunting, Violent metal

The chains in her mind

Violent you, she’s broken Glass

on flesh

Shattered, screaming edges

begging to claim a mayter

Face – inconstant moon forgets

gutteral chokes

Stolen scent of Need

Frozen fingers

tracing crooked lines with

crooked tools

Bind her straight jacket

Violent white walls

Violent metal

Violent You

The chains in her mind

Sian Alexia Doole.

Just something I did a while ago that I would pop up here.

I have been trying to think of something great and inspiring and interesting to put up here so people will actually enjoy reading it, and in that process, I realized that is exactly my problem most of the time – I am constantly trying to do something, say something, look a certain wat so that I can be someone to others, so I can be noticed and seen and good enough. This whole illness, this disease that has ripped me and my life to shreds, all because I fucking think I am no one. What a joke.

Just for the record. It’s not worth it.

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Grey Areas – Beautiful Minds

Cogito ergo doleo – I think therefore I am depressed.

I love this, the truth is undeniable, at least for me. I have often thought if only I had a more simple mind, a more narrow perspective on the world around me, I would not be so unhappy. It seems like there are different levels of exploration available to the human mind – explore the real, tangible, credible stuff that stands in front of you. The cities, people, materials. There is still heart ache and despair readily available in this, however there are cures too, ways of working through it, things to hold onto to make things better and move on.

Then there is exploration on a whole different scale. A level that I have found to be dangerous and full of questions without answers. I believe that it is people who can discover this part of their mind and use it become great people  Рpeople who make discoveries, and create great art, and produce the wolds philosophical roots. Think of Shakespeare and Walt Whitman, Albert Einstein and Martin Luther king Рthe artist who paint things we are not meant to understand at a glance, the poetry that surpasses comprehension and has to be studied in universities, with lecturers that dedicate their lives to literature.

This level of the mind can be interesting, diverse and open doors to thought that changes lives and enlightens the world. It can lift the veil of darkness that hides the unknown , and widen our boundaries. It saves lives, creates life, and asks the questions that offer the world a alternative future. If it wan’t for this thinking, we would not have womens rights activists, human right missions, justice. Freedom.

However, there is a dark side to this level of thought, one that you will only see once you are too far in to keep your head above water. People become lost, scared and out of control. There becomes to many what ifs, maybe’s and possibilities that nothing is sure anymore. There are no answers and so many doubts.

I call this the grey areas in life. Some people see only black and whites, good and bad, right or wrong. do or Don’t. Those people live and let live. Then there are the people that only see the grey parts in between, the thoughts that linger between.

But I think they are dangerous. I have become so lost in these grey areas that I no longer know who I am. I have lost site of what right is, what wrong is, what I need and what I don’t. There is no stability in this world of thought, there are only shifting forms that haunt and mock you. There is no winning, and nothing is ever Enough. Give me black and white any day. Maybe the yearning for that is what has lead me to surround myself in the colours black and white, a subconcious act to defy all the noise that clouds my mind.

there is madness, illness, tradgedy and genius. But all these things come from a mind, stretched beyond the reaches of rationality and reason. And although they are the fruit of all things new and possible, they are also the poison upon which great minds are destroyed.

In the midst of all this though, there are too more sayings that I think are also true, as contradictory as it seems.

Nullum est responsum, sed solum optiones – There are no answers, only choices.

there are only choices – we choose every day which road we take, where we are heading, even if we are thrown off from time to time, we always have a choice. We just have to learn to make the right ones. We have to chose life.


Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim – Be patient and tough; some day this pain will be useful to you. (Ovid)

As painful as everything seems sometimes, I know that without all this pain I would not be the person that I am. I would not be able to help the people that I love and I would have no past. There are so many bad things that come from pain and struggle, but there are also things that you learn along the way that make you a stronger person to face future ills. You just have to learn to treat the pain as something that can be defeated, not something that defines you. as soon as you separate yourself from the pain, you are free to define yourself as whoever it is you want to be.

Last words?


Vincit qui se vincit – She/he conquers who conquers her/himself.

once we have conquered ourselves, nothing is impossible.


Amor aeternus – Love forever.

Ground Zero, where art thou?

what does it mean to actually hit Ground Zero?

For many people I guess it means – unhappiness. Utter unhappiness. When all the little elements that fit together to create the chemical reaction that is their life – family, relationships, work – fail. When nothing makes them happy anymore. When they have lost everything.

When I hear the word ground zero it makes me think of the Twin towers that tumbled to the ground – literally and symbolic of an all time low, for the lives lost and for the American sense of security.

I think of business men who stray from their wives and lose their kids and business in a messy divorce settlement. The aftermath – them sitting penniless, loveless in a run down bar drinking rack bourbon, terrorizing himself with memories of shots of top shelf whisky from the penthouse mini bar – that is his ground zero.

Maybe that is what it is? When someone’s life is terrorized – causing them to lose beyond measure and end up a heap of rubble, without a hope of resurrection in sight. The instruments to the failure – whether that be the Taliban or sexual dissatisfaction, drugs, disabling children …. they are all unwanted factors that gradually work within, then reek havoc when they come out all guns blazing.

and leave nothing but devastation. And guilt. Knowing, impenetrable guilt.

But how can one judge where this ground zero is when the surroundings keep changing? what is level? what I once thought was my own ground zero I hit, then passed, further down, and continue falling toward what never gets any closer.

Is that my ground Zero – way down there, where I will never reach – rather live in constant flight toward it – knowing that the eventual impact will be my end?

Or have I hit it? Long passed and long unseen – yet failed to fight the terror. Choosing to pretend it never happened, pretend that where I am going is not so underground and dark.

And what happens once you do pass it?

what ground comes after that?

Maybe Hell is beneath us after all, and if the ground zero is not used to construct something new and promising – Hell is where you end up. Not an after life – but Hell on earth.

I’m satisfied with this assumption – for I feel the heat of flames. I taste blood in my mouth and I feel Like I have broken every bone in my body falling through what was intended to be Ground Zero. Thus I can reason my evil behaviours – my selfishness, my heartless vigor for self-destruction. I am now a puppet – wandering the pits of Hell, bowing my head to the darkness. And more than ever I Fear Hell is not something that ends with Death. But is infinite. Without escape.

Kiss From a Rose

have you ever noticed the black haze that appears to hover around the petals of a red rose.

the dark outline that gives them the illusion of blood red velvet.

I love the evil, ominous beauty

On the surface they seem such a cliché, but there is a reason they have remained a symbol of raw passion, raw bone deep love throughout the ages Рthey possess the whispered notion of blood and violence. Provoke images of pools of black red, caught in the recesses of devotion. They possess the potent, consuming nature of love and passion. They are a visual display of the thin lines that exists between lust and violence. There is nothing more romantic than the death of a lover, for the sake of his hearts desire. In death he becomes of martyr for truth. Suicide becomes heroic sacrifice. murder Рprotection. Yes, Love is a brother of blood to death.

And all that can be captured within the budding brilliance of a rose, and as all things of passion, cannot be lost in the shriveling of its form. a dry, dead rose petal still breathes memories, still reflects the power of its life. A dry, dead rose petal, spreading with black and rusty-brown is almost more than its former self. It inherits a haunting voice, that advocates for meaning in self-destruction, purpose in misery.

A red rose offers no escape from the pain.

A red rose is my favorite flower.

I hate the glear of bright circus flowers that are mocking in their giddy perfection.

A red rose offers no escape from the pain, And I am sick to death of escapes.

What happened to the exit route, the normal door for a farewell with intention of return? Why now are there only cracked, misleading paths framed by danger signs and dead ends. And why can’t there be a crew brought in to repair the damage and construct a new one. A bridge to the daisy fields that used to live in sight.

Now there is nothing but the risk of losing all forever – one foot misplaced and there are no soft downs to catch but infinite falls to condemn.

I always notice the black haze that appears to hover around the petals of a red rose.

I love the darkness, I fear the darkness. The darkness is my own.

ProZac Baby ….

Prozac, Baby.

Diagnosed Chronic anorexia. We knew this. Diagnosed Chronic Depression. I knew this. Diagnosed periodic Insomnia (haha, that sounds made up). I knew this too.

I took my first dose of 60mg fluoxetine, brand name – Prozac. OMG – there are fairies, flowers, lights…. THE WORLD IS A BETTER PLACE!

Ok, I was kidding, if you didn’t pick up on the large undertow of sarcasm.

For years, ever since I was old enough to take antidepressants, different doctors have been encouraging me to take them. I have heard every different explanation and reasoning in the book, “they take the edge off life” , “they make everything more manageable”, “they make your mind more accessible to treatment” – and it has never convinced me.

I am not against antidepressants, in people where the problem is isolated to Depression, Yes – I think they are great, well researched drugs that have a lot to offer. However, in cases, such as myself, where the core issue is a disease – my anorexia – with Depression as a consequence ….. I have little faith that drugs are the answer, for me.

I have always felt I do not fit into the little boxes they tick to diagnose certain things – My disease is so radically different from the next person, and so too is my experience with Depression.

I am Depressed. But i am depressed because of what Anorexia has done to my life, and I should feel shit about it. For the more Depressed I become , the more I realize how fucking terrible the last 6years have been and how much I cannot go through another 6 like them. That is my reality.

If the Depression is masked, made to feel easier to deal with and the edges of Depression ease and soften – what is going to scare me into recovery? would it not just make it easier to avoid this disease and fool myself into thinking that as long as I am popping pills, life starving and destroying my body can be sustainable?

Is Prozac not offering me an escape from the brutal reality? And in doing that , Will Prozac not have a hand in my own eventual suicide?

Hmmm. I am sure many wont understand the way my mind works. But…. I feel like even more of a hypocrite right now. Here I am saying all this in refusal to take the drug, yet, I am on it as I type. Lol. Ironic.

But, what the hell right? I am in so much pain every day, I am willing to try anything to ease it, even if just ever so slightly. So – what the hell….. why not.

I have also been given vallum to sleep – but the bitch only gave me 10?! 10…. what a joke! But yes, they are highly addictive and also put me at slight risk of worsening my arrhythmia …. but 10?! I am going to have to sort some scam to get more…. must be a black market somewhere in NZ.

Plus, took one at 9 last night. Got to sleep about 12am. woke up at 2:30am, then slept about 3am – 5;30. Grand whopping total of 4 hours. God – what amazing sleeping pills….. have to take a few more tonight I am thinking.

Ironically – I am reading Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel … fitting…. If you haven’t – READ IT – its a great read about Depression and a girls struggle against life – true story – really good book.

ciao

The Blind Artist

The Blind Artist


Pencil at fingertips she

follows a line.

Scratches at the surface

that hides a

Beautiful Mind.

In desperation, Translate, tell

what it is

To Be.

Open minds to what Reveals

The secret to break

Free

She is a Blind Artist

Fumbling

for a Truth

Amidst the rapture of

Poisoned

Roots.

A frightened inner child, one with

Passion, she seeks

Don’t be lost, In prayer

Won’t it be Home she

Finds.

Don’t look, you Won’t

see, What it is,

ALive

beneath such a face.

Tight woven Trickeries

rule this model of

Grace.

Close your eye’s

quick, and seek with

Your Soul

Dont let Darkness

Tempt you

Down

Bottomless roads.