Fueled Flame

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Jan 312019
 

The Realm of the Dead

I beg the world to just let me be numb, to make the pain from yesterday and tomorrow roll off of me. Like a tsunami that pulls the water away the pain always rolls back in, deeper and harder than it had ever been before.

I try and see the good in life. Maybe I’ve gone blind.

What is the point in all of this hurt? What kind of god or deity says that this is okay. That free will is acceptable when it comes to damaging others. The scars in my brain are lesions that can’t be fixed. Not in this world. Probably not in the next.

I am angry. Angry at God, angry at myself for having faith in the greater good when the reality is that there is no good. It is a falsity, a bald-faced lie that we all look to as some sort of guide to having the best life, when none of us really do.

I hate.

I hate the happy people. The rich people. The people who got to die when I can’t. The people who laid there looking like they were sleeping peacefully ready for their grave with their mouths stitched shut to avoid the look of a screaming slack jaw staring up at the mourners. I envy that person. The person in the pine box, preparing for the flame.

All of this life, all of this hurt, this broken-ugly is hell. The good die young because they are too good for this inferno.

And today, like in years before, I watched the sunrise as if it were my first, and then I said goodbye to the light, knowing it was my last.

I cut myself just to feel the pain.

I bleed just to know I am alive.

I am sorry, every single day.

If God was my tourniquet, what will save my soul now that he has abandoned me?

“No” comes from my mouth so loudly in the darkness of the winters night that I wonder how it’s not heard around the world, I wake myself. The rapist’s in my head alive and well. I am the zombie that can’t get them to go away.

Crazy… I was crazy once…

Then, the brutal hit of life stole the wind from my lungs and snuffed out the flame that I had glowing inside.

Perhaps, I am numb, the pain is so bad I can barely recognize it. Is this a part of the show? This evil game where I am the mouse and I can’t tell who the cat is, so I have to trust no one? Don’t inhale the toxic fumes called air, Marisa. Hold your breath until the darkness creeps in and you close your eyes.

And if you don’t love me now…

Well, you probably never did.

Jan 022019
 

Baby Sterling, born May 1st, 2017, was an incredibly sad and tragic case of abuse resulting in his death, around August 30th, 2017 in Alta Vista, Iowa. At autopsy, he only weighed approximately 7lbs, barely above his birth weight, despite being 4 months old.

He had been left in his baby swing, alone in a room, unchanged and unfed by his “parents” Cheyanne Harris and Zachary Paul Koehn. Z Koehn called 911 stating that Sterling had been unresponsive but when first responders arrived they found what can only be described as a gut-wrenching, stomach-turning scene.

Sterling was covered in maggots as he laid in his baby swing, in a diaper that hadn’t been changed in approximately a week. He had maggots burrowing into his skin and in various states of life. The autopsy said he hadn’t been moved in some time. Meanwhile, these “parents” were lovingly doting on their older child in the next room over.

Cheyanne Harris and Zachary Koehn arrest

Oddly, Harris and Koehn were not arrested until October 25th, 2017, after a seemingly lengthy investigation into little Sterling’s death. They were both arrested for first-degree murder and child endangerment. The medical examiner ruled the case “failure to provide critical care”.

Initially, both Harris and Koehn had asked for expedited trials. Both trials were initially set for early 2018, though being tried separately. Soon enough, and as anticipated by most people following the case, the defence began to ask for more time to prepare and finally even changes in venue, in hopes of a fair trial.

Zachary Paul Koehn went to trial in November 2018 and in less than an hour of jury deliberations was found guilty of first-degree murder and child neglect resulting in death. Iowa does not have the death penalty but the charge of first-degree murder carries an automatic life sentence with no chance of parole, which was officially handed down to him On December 4th, 2018.

Cheyanne Harris’ trial is set to begin January 29th, 2019, also in a different venue. Harris’ attorneys have filed notice that they may be using a diminished capacity or intoxication defence as Harris was alleged to be using methamphetamines, with Sterling Koehn testing positive at birth, arguing that she wasn’t in a position to care for her newborn son. An expert already testified in Koehn’s trial that Harris may have been suffering from post-partum depression.

Early Warning Signs NOT Reported

Jan 022019
 

My thoughts, my faith, my inspiration, they all change from day to day, moment by moment and I no longer have a specific focus.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my spark. I lost my way. I miss expanding my mind and my content into the corners of the literary world like I once did.

You see, when you’ve been through so much hurt it has this way of boiling up and over into ways that aren’t healthy and this life that had glimmers of hope and joy and direction seem to just go on the backburner. In a struggle between good and evil. I would love to say good always wins, yet in my life, it seems that the enemy wins a lot more often than not.

The scars that are hidden under new ones, and the new ones bandaged away to heal the best they can. The wear on my body hurts more in my heart. Somedays, my eyes don’t seem to dry at all, other days I need to bleed just to know I am alive.

This may have been the hardest 4th quarter of the year, or maybe even the hardest challenges of my life. I don’t know yet if I have won the war because the battle that lives in my head, heart and is entwined in my soul never seems to stop. I can’t tell if it’s a replay or real-time.

“I just prayed to a God that I don’t believe in” (Bon Jovi), seems to be a quote that my mind is tangled around a ton lately. I believe in the Word of God, yet I don’t feel the Holy Spirit in my life any longer. I want to cultivate that relationship and yet I feel silly because I am at this impasse where I don’t even know that my faith is in something that is real. I am like a child that is beginning to doubt whether or not Santa is real. I hate this about myself.

So, how do I begin to reclaim my life? My faith? My joy?

Where do I even look when the sadness and melancholy have been the only friends that never leave? Is it really bad to be comfortably numb? Who said going through the motions of life isn’t actually living?

I crave more. I need more. More of what? I guess we will see!

My word this year is JOURNEY.
I am on a journey of self-reflection, looking forward and seeking me!

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