Panic

Surrounding noise,
suddenly so far away; 
light-headed, shaking.
Can't breathe,
I want to run,
unable to sit still.
It is actually painful
to remain in one place.
I want to scream.
I do cry and shake 
and cry some more.
I need to escape,
run from the pain,
somewhere, anywhere, 
but there is no escape.
It is always with me.
It is like a choker 
around my throat.
Finally, not being able
to escape or get better
I make the Leap 
of  Concrete Faith.

To Hell With It.

Someone will tell me quite soon
that I will be in big trouble.
I will probably smile
and say "What more can you do?"

I have little left to lose,
most of it is already gone.
"We will sue you", they say.
Be my guest and get a clue.

I own nothing, no assets,
no bank account and no income;
Really, what more can you take
There's not much left to pursue.

"We'll arrest you for stalking."
Okay, where is your court order 
Show me that, I'll be gone.
Press me hard enough, I'm through.

It's quite hard to do too much 
to those who've lost almost all,
when self-esteem and self-worth
have both been long since removed.

Try to hurt me yet again
It won't get you very far
I'll decide to end it all
make the plan and say adieu.

So, screw you.

P.S. The last line is intended for the Washington DC folks not the local folks.

Had Enough

All I want is hope.
I can't seem to buy it.
Looking everywhere
finding less than none.


It almost seems like 
someone is against me
trying to hurt me
just for their own fun.


Everything I try
to get help for myself
doesn't seem to work;
I'm coming undone.


Why won't anything
go right for me these days?
Everything I do
seems to get me shunned.


I'm giving up now;
I've really had enough.
No one wants me here
so I say I'm done.

Gift or Burden?

I thank you God
for all good gifts:
for life, for health for food.
But I have just
a few complaints;
was hoping that you would
listen to me
vent for a few
I'm in that kind of mood.


I really hate
just being me;
would like it if you could
make me into
one like others
It really would be good.
I'm too unique
and too damaged
and feel misunderstood.


My brain is not
like most people's,
doesn't work like it should.
I have no idea
from what I should eschew.
What should I say
or what to do
so that I seem less crude?
I want to fit
with social norms,
want to be less like wood.


I have no place
here as it is
I feel like I intrude.
Why did you make
someone like me;
a mistake, I conclude.
Tired of trying
to be like them
I think I came unglued.


I just want out
Please let me go.
I don't want to delude
myself anymore.
Or bother those
who think I am rude.
If you won't do that,
can you help me
accept myself as good?

Final Freedom

Freedom:
You don't care
what I say or do
as long as it
doesn't impact you.


My life 
means nothing
if I stay clear
of you at all;
don't increase your fear.


Freedom,
Worthlessness
means that I can
do what I must
to make my last stand.


Best part:
No one cares
except for one;
she's better off
after I am gone.


Dark? Yes.
But it's true,
the way I feel.

Now, it may pass, 
right now it is real.

Crazy: How It Feels

Like limestone bricks
pyramid upon soul
ever downward pressing
heaviness distressing.


siphoning breath; 
oven melting madness,
sad, sanity stealing
persecuting feelings.


space-like vacuum
sucking life from the room,
remaining viscous brain
sliding down whirpool's drain.

Slamming Doors

Hearing the sound of slamming doors,
Immediate interception
and being followed.
Recipe for paranoia
or for a growing awareness
of people afraid.
It really is disheartening
or maybe more like depressing:
Why do I exist?
If people want me gone that much
maybe I should disappear
so they can relax.
Get on with your lives, I'm not worth
the anxiety I cause in you.
I'd never harm you.
It hurts that you need to avoid
me so much you go and hide.
But I understand.
So I will say, "Goodbye" to you
and to the world which hates me so.
I am so sorry...

Where Do You Turn

Where do you go
when there's no place to turn,
when you need help
when you have been spurned?


What do you do
when you're over the edge,
when you reach out,
find only the ledge?


Who do you know
who might see what you need
when you're falling
with increasing speed?


When do you show
people that you need aid?
Can you request
help while you're afraid?


Why is it hard
to just come out and ask
for what you need,
stop wearing a mask?


How do you stop
fearing being ignored
let down your guard,
have your faith restored?


I do not know
the answers to give you
except to say:
Just try it:  do.

A Tree in A Forest


I'm trying so hard
does anyone see me?
Does anyone think
I 've a right to be?


I talk no one hears
I write and no one reads
Does anyone feel
my tears as they stream? 


I get no response
I feel invisible
Can anyone touch
my hand as I reach?


There is no me
I think all to myself
Does that mean, I am
if I can still dream?


I feel like a tree
in forest so alone
falling quietly
no one can hear me.


So now if I go
will anyone miss me?
Does anyone care
if I cease to be?




Cherie R Boeneman
6/22/2102

Me

Yes, I know that I'm different.
Give me a chance and you will see
how good different can be.

Open your heart, open your mind
look past my social clumsiness
gaze into my eyes, see me.

See one whose heart beats as yours does
See me who bleeds and just like you.
Touch me and know that I feel.

Can you see that I yearn for love
or feel how cold alone can be;
Reach out and grasp my lonely.

I know it's hard to reach that far
outside your own experience,
I understand, believe me.

I have to reach that far each day -
just to look in your eyes and speak,
a frightning challege, you see.

Not knowing if I'm being weird
or if I'm fitting in with you
scares me and makes me leery.

It tires me more than you can know
and I can become quite depressed
sick to death of being me.

If someone would just listen, see,
how I think can be helpful to you.
I see things differently

What seems to be bad can be good
depends upon your perspective:
Weird or creativity.

So how will you choose to see me?
How will you react when we meet:
Welcome me or bully me?

However you act is a choice
that affects not just you but we.
Kindness we grow: cruel, I bleed.

C. Boeneman
6/16/2012