Christian M., Texas: A Specific Gravity

IOWA PRISON WRITING PROJECT


A Specific Gravity

CHRISTIAN M., TEXAS


          I have long been encumbered by the wearisome  
weight of this world 
                    bearing down on my unconscious mind  
                              the trappings of frantic antics and guile 
                                        perturbing my tensile strength, 
          Anxiety springing forth from a well too deep to sound, 
          Petty musings in a contemplative reverie  
without a single memory, 
          History doesn’t repeat itself, it just never  
changes 
                    the infinite inertia to be a pinball for 
           our own and other’s existence, 
           What is suffering but the irony of our incredibly 
important self-aggrandizing collective construction  
projects, 
          Seemingly insignificant is the thought 
Between the thoughts we feel we have to think 
                    linking our past and our future our now dissolves  
                              into another memory, 
          How swiftly forgotten the tangibility of a dream, 
          Open my eyes to the scorching of my consciousness, 
          Lick my finger to test a sizzle off of my personality, 
          Hear the crackling of my ego as my instincts  
moan in longing for catharsis. 
           
          I feel the weight of the stimuli prodding  
my brain to connect synapses, 
          Visions from shapes collide and hormones clash  
Within the walls of my skin and consequence, 
          Does a sound echo in the space 
between two feelings  
                    credence lies bereft of justification, 
          Too much pressure without any vapor, 
          Inexplicable isn’t visual isn’t auditory either,  
          Ether insoluble, I can’t take my burdens 
For granted (or evaporate them either), 
          There is no need to diet my intellectual  
obesity,
          Maybe my soul’s no really fat and  
the size proves to be muscle 
                     strength for the oncoming tide’s tussle, 
          But every time I take a step further  
                    I get a little deeper 
                              I think I know how to breathe 
                                        underwater without holding my breath. 

          The weight of the world is only  
noticeable for the time I’ve leaned on it  
                     myself, 
          Is it necessary to know that the wall isn’t 
leaning on 
                    me 
                              interconnected perpetual desiccation of  
                                        mankind, 
          Fatuous expectancy heft of camaraderie  
                    lift me to the stars within my mind 
                              inner-galactic contemplative reverie, 
         Childhood imaginings while climbing a tree  
                   of the tree volitionally 
                             and consciously supporting me, 
          Anthropomorphic deity  
                    the whimsy of a juvenile humanity, 
          Like talking to my cereal 
                    because the last Cheerio might be lonely, 
         Beauty lies 
dormant in the sea of antiquity, 
         Rising up  
                   from a future full of histories, 
         Varied perceptions of a single sensation 
poke holes through the fabric of my consciousness 
                    to open peepholes to my substrate 
          Flick flame fluttering fuller  
                    faster  
                              farther          
                                         from failing finitude, 
          Beyond this junkyard landscape of brain-waste love-hate, 
          Dictionary meaning  
                    so we’re all on the same page, 
          Born to die, we land roles  
                    with a blank script 
                              on a rigged stage.  
 
          I’ve grown heavy  
                     like a magnet  
                              in a bucket full of nails, 
          Then life deigns to drop me  
                     In this bucket full of snails, 
           To feel like something’s heavy 
                     I have to feel  
                     there’s something else, 
           Something separate  
                      emergent property 
                                the illusion of my self, 
           A conflict formed of nothing  
                      to nothingness will return, 
           Yet this weight still loads me 
                      and turns me with its burn,
            Much fraught appearances wither under scrutiny 
and inspection, 
             With mindful awareness in clarity of introspective 
vivid reflection. 

             That’s what I feel  
is weighting 
                       my being, 
             Is just existence  
waiting to come in, 
             Infinity trying to connect 
                       through the haze of impermanence, 
             Humanoid suffering  
                       of fear 
                                 and cognitive intemperance, 
            Maybe my soul isn’t growing fatter 
                      and my mind’s circumference 
                                and density 
                                          not greater, 
          Maybe the concept I held to be so real of  
boundaries 
                    between me 
                              and you  
                                        and the sky so blue, 
          Aren’t true  
                    and grow blurry  
                              starting to melt into each other. 

          The weight shifts  
                    and I feel it settle again 
                              but I know it better for what it is, 
           It’s me trying to get out of existence  
trying to get in, 
           Time comes in waves of bitter battle 
from kettle that always squeals, 
            Pitter-patter  
                      raindrops 
                                from a life’s storm of sights and feels, 
           Christmas trees and carousels  
all dancing with my laughter, 
            That from before birth  
                    torpid sadness welled  
                              ‘til Death’s darkness everafter, 
          Dancing in my cell  
                    in circles of little space,
          Arms ad hands lifted  
                    to fly into outer-space  
                              kissing infinity upon its face 
          Feel the air swirl around me  
                    molecules so-rounding me 
                              to the vibrating vibrancy 
                                        innate in BE, 
          Open spaces expand from the inside out 
‘til you get dizzy  
                     and then some, 
          Know the                     of the happy place right  
inside your heart-sun, 
          Confusion everlasting 
                     thinking you’re living right beside it, 
           You wrote the word  
                     Your answer dwells somewhere deep inside it, 
          Can a human mind define it  
                     to free it 
                               not confine it, 
          Use words to give it birth  
                    instead of undermine it, 
          Can a human mind ungrasp enough  
                    to be full conscious of the grandeur, 
          To embrace the grace of Nothingness 
                    and mute this world’s demeanor.