*Featured Image: “Observation” By Angela Amias, mixed-media.
Putting On Eyeliner With PTSD
by René Ostberg
does this makeup make me look smokey slutty sophisticated safe
soft weak or like a raccoon like a ghost a victim should I wash it off
can I not just wash it off make it all go away let me start over
let me it never happened pretend it never
happened. Pretend it looks good. Pretend.
After traumatic endings, there are no fresh starts. No fresh mornings, no fresh facing of the day. Your worldview changes, your face to the world changes, your facing yourself in the mirror in memory in mind in the morning at midnight.
At night, I at least understand what triggers the triggers. Because at night, the body takes the position of the horizon & the mind drops upon the body & burns like the setting sun. & the eyes, washed clean, are helpless to memory. In the morning the world must be faced, you might see him you might be reminded you might break down in the most inconvenient moments the most public spaces.
The deliberate darkening of the eyes, lined thick and messy as the mind, is as good a defense
against
violation prying being seen not seen
as the steady sturdy posture of a tree.
For safety, turn yourself into a tree freeze trace a Cleopatra eye with shadow
& blend the wing for that smokey
sickening feeling.
Turn yourself into a raccoon running
round a tree a memory running round
your eyes a woman running a woman
freezing.
Blend rage blend pain blend shadows for a smokey eyed effect.
Smoke goes to beauty. You deserved it. You brought this on.
Drive him wild with mystery with resistance with no & no again &
again & return
to rage to bed now when the morning horizon has made distance from
the burn of the sun.
It’s hard to get that effect of a sophisticated eye
a straight sweep of liner
a steady application
with an unsteady hand.
On days like this every day actually I tend to shake too much
& the mascara smears.
I look like I’ve been crying I have been crying I am always crying
& I put on too much blusher, choose a color too red for my complexion.
Red for rage. Red for unrested. Red for return & return again
rage every night every morning.
I’m a raccoon a zombie a boxer w/two black
eyes shaking hands beating killing
heart.
Does the horizon shake & rage like this as the sun gets closer
as the burning gets redder does a tree fight or flight
does a raccoon go blind in the full memory of light
full light of memory
does this makeup make me look smokey slutty sophisticated safe
soft weak or like a raccoon like a ghost a victim should I wash it off
can I not just wash it off make it all go away let me start over
let me it never happened pretend it never
happened. Pretend it looks good. Pretend.
Start again. Trace a clear line & tell. Keep
a steady hand sturdy mind surviving heart.
*This piece was first published in Awakened Voices, Issue 4.