perceptions, the poem

This poem is written in braille on the canvas of the painting perceptions.

perceptions


Forced patience,
I wait for you.

It surrounds and wraps itself around me. Every limb, every finger
Convoluted, contorted around each word I speak.
flowing threading through each emotion that passes through.
tired, sad, I don't know how to communicate these feelings to you.
Every person I touch, each thought.

It is dark
As I stumble closer, I strain to see his face, glaring, silent, stony
caught in his stare I find his brooding eyes, rage is among his thoughts.
I don't fear it any longer, protected by a sheet of glass
I run my finger down his face, cold and smooth, he is quiet, so as not to
wake the beast.
The eyes that look upon me are so sad that I wonder what is caught inside.
Teeth tearing, eyes piercing
Roaring so loud that I cry
Ripping pushing gnashing.
It lies on every limb
Constricting breath
Stinking loud,
Lonely frightened,
Burning back,
It is always searching,
Sometimes strong, other times weak
Hurting, hungry
Through the window, I see him kneeling on one knee,
his arm supports his head, as it lies across his knee.
He is resting for a moment. Scared is his back.
He is the one caught in the struggle.
Receiving the blows, feeling the pain
carrying the battle on his shoulders.
Tired, so tired,
He wishes to stand up, cry out and break the beast that surrounds him, but
he is tired, so tired,
Aching, burning back, resting, burning my eyes.

Tell me where to walk where to sit.
Tell me which door I may use.
Call me what you want, I'll return it with an indifferent stare.
Burning, breaking, cutting through my body.
It is a coat that lies on every limb,
every breath, every word I speak,
every emotion I feel.
The coat weighs on every thing I do.
It surrounds me, wrapping itself around my fingers,
It filters the faces I see.
It mutes and dampens the words I say to you.
Caught Inside of it.
Suffocating, heavy, expressionless.
My hope would be to pour myself out to you,
But the water, and so much more is Caught Inside, reduced to a mere trickle.
It is a beast that flows through my body.
Gripping and straining, It tightens around each muscle,
Counteracting every move I make.
Sitting, watching you, waiting. Knowing that you would perform better than I would.
Rage, I hope to be in your presence, and while there, I feel as though you are a higher form, better brighter than me.
Though the truth is known to me, it is this struggle which tears me apart

The beast is always present.
Now it is resting, waiting to rise and defeat me.
It is a neverending battle, sometimes it wins, but usually we are in a struggle for control, the end yet to be written.
I hurry to give this to you before it awakens, as I know it will.
It frightens me to know that the battle with the beast is an eternal one.
It scares me more to know that
The coat can't be shed,
The beast can't be tamed, killed
the beast is me. It is me.

Please set me in the back, anywhere so that I may stay with those I call my friends.
When denied, my expression will not change, I will be disappointed.
Sinking, shrinking, wanting to crawl away.
Rage, waiting for something to happen.
The shield becomes strong, tense, protecting.
Holding me back.
Reduced to insignificance by your indifference,
this may be an exaggeration, but that's how it feels.
I'll try not to let it show, but my silence will scream loudest.
Fighting back would be useless, to speak about it even more so.
My mouth is closed so as not to scream, cry out, not to explode.
To utter a sound would be to crack the dam that holds back the waters of a grand sea.
Seething, anxious, mad, waiting to break...

To walk with feet that never leave the ground.
As I stumble past you, I am caught in your stare.
To walk with feet that never leave the ground.
I've gotten used to not noticing, as an actor on stage I play the part.
My face is smiling through the blush, I need no help.
A polite thank you and you go away.
To walk with feet that never leave the ground.
Each time, pushed to my limit.
That is my sentence.
Caught inside a world where I exist as an exception to you.

Locked in a room with no key,
only to see, hear, touch you through the wall, muddled and muffled
to see you as a huge vague, ghostly image.

It dampens every wave of emotion,
filters all sound leaving my lips.
We use the same tools, but how mine are encumbered.
You only perceive that fight which you see.
Forced patience.
Though I move with this in mind, I wouldn't change the circumstance.
Give the battle to me, no one else is up to the fight.

Sitting back, observing, wanting to touch,
Afraid of what you might say.
I'll not be a burden, or intrude, only at invitation do I speak with you.
Let me sit in the back to watch and listen.
Scared to speak, I rely on what you think of me to judge myself.
Scared to show you who I am, uncertain who that might be.

The calmness you see shields, controls me from your indifference.
Calmness leads to emotion that is less intense.
To be passionate about one thing is to be passionate about all,
To guard against one emotion is to guard against all.
The shield I use to guard against the frustration also deflects those
feelings you give me as well as filters and dilutes the feelings going out to you.

Good-bye he says. I try to speak, but it escapes me.
I fear that this is the pattern of my life. I wish to say so much, but I know not what to say.
Bent and breaking I stumble away, turn on a light.
I will return again, as I know it will.

We share a body, unlike all others.
Wanting, afraid to touch you, not understanding why.
I see what I may become in you.
Struggling for each breath, tighter it grips,
every move perched on the brink of collapse.
Howling, the beast breaks you more and more
yet a sound never escapes you.
Sad I am, knowing that it hurts you.
Frightened of what I might become
Selfish, ashamed
knowing that you have overcome so much.
What was once a battle between us has now subsided.
Each move getting slower,
each sound growing softer,
each beat more silent.
I know not how to say this, but I hope you understand what is caught inside.

perceptions of payne
Aaron Payne

Written January - June 1998
this is it.