it bled in again,
choking the lights to a dull gray—
predictably lame,
with broken teeth
to gnaw frayed scabs
like grinding old gum.
the silence roaring like white noise,
crawling through me,
carving old words into my stomach,
predictably lame syllables
hissing like searing wounds.
until—predictably lame—
stupid tears burst forth
stealing my breath
reminding me:
doing nothing gets nothing.
so do nothing again
and get nothing again—
but I am so damn tired
of choking on it.
6/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
Bridgette Tales 
This… makes this piece a gut-punch of a poem:
“stupid tears burst forth
stealing my breath
reminding me:
doing nothing gets nothing.
so do nothing again
and get nothing again—
but I am so damn tired
of choking on it.”
Very well written and emotionally jarring, Bridgette!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks. I’m back to journaling everyday and I’m having some big feels.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Like that last stanza, Bridgette.
I’m well aware of days like those.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I’m journaling again and it’s kicking up some stuff I don’t exactly want to face.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hear you. It can be rough to look directly at such things to put them in their proper place.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is raw, unfiltered, and deeply evocative. Your repetition of “predictably lame” becomes more than a phrase—it transforms into the voice of self-doubt that so many people quietly wrestle with. The imagery is striking, especially “the silence roaring like white noise” and “carving old words into my stomach,” creating an emotional intensity that lingers long after the final line.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I appreciate your words. It’s hard when you see yourself repeating patterns over and over. Growth is so uncomfortable.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A haunting piece of writing. The imagery is raw and unsettling, yet it never feels gratuitous. It gives tangible form to emotional paralysis and the exhausting cycle of self-awareness without escape. The unflinching honesty of the final line struck me hard.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I’m really struggling to find my way out of tired old patterns. I’m glad the final lines resonated with you too. May we both find paths forward.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree with trE, big feels indeed.
Do hope you are OK 🤗
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I am okay, just tired of being stuck in the same place.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The feeling of being stuck isn’t good Bridgette. Does getting about with your camera can help? Maybe time for a holiday
LikeLiked by 1 person
It does help. I’m headed to the ocean next week so that will certainly help.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Have loads of fun and take lots of photos. Going by yourself?
LikeLike
It felt like pushing through past patterns of self doubt. Powerful poem.
LikeLike
This really hangs together well, Bridgette! It also reminds me of that opening story in your book. FWIW, I think it’s preferable to fear no one will like the words that *might* be worthwhile than to think EVERYONE is going to like words which are routinely lame. (says the English teacher who had to break it to some kids that they had just written….not well.)
LikeLike