Mahayana how [can i] help but [use your eyes] as a means for self-asphyxiation

[can i] [use your eyes] ?
blown cherry 1988
Almost Christmas
In the back seat of a car, maybe dad's taxi, can't remember.
9 years old.
Things are not right.

"Kill Cheryl first Ken, kill Cheryl first"
she kept saying it over and over.
Over and over again.
The words ring loudly still in my ears, no matter how close I put my head next to the speakers at concerts, trying to blot out the noise, even now.

"Kill Cheryl first, before you kill me"
I don't remember crying.
It was too bewildering to cry.
I don't remember being anything but being afraid.

Then she started talking to someone else.
Someone not here, but someone evil.
They told her dad was evil.

"Kill Cheryl first"
Why can't I escape these words??
Why are they so loud??

Finally we're at the hospital.
They sit mum down.

"I'm not crazy, it's him, he's the crazy one, he wants to kill me'

How can my dad live with this?

I hover nervously,
I'm a kid,
I'm used to being in the way,
so I try to stay out of it.

Someone gives me a Casper comic and a blanket and I lie down on the wooden seats out in the hall.
The corridor is very grey.
The lights are grey,
the shiny linoleum is grey.
A grey world to match the dark clouds filling my head.

The nurses are discussing something in the room adjoining the little one that my mum and dad are in, the one with one of those dreadful hospital beds, and wreaking of that awful hospital smell.

From my perch in the hallway I can see my mum through the door.

Everyone looks away for a moment,
when we look back,
mum has her hands around her own throat and is trying to strangle herself with her bare hands.
Dad yells at me to fetch the nurses.
It takes all three of them to pull her arms away.
Such strength she had that day.

An impossible task.
Would have been funny really, it weren't so, not funny.

That was the start.
It will never really be over.
Such strength; of body and of conviction, the drugs have stolen from her.
Once a bright, headstrong, ambitous and determined woman, now reduced to a smiling shadow.

All those stupid waiting rooms, through the most fragile years of my adolescence;
"If a close relative suffers from a mental illness, you are 10% more likely to suffer from mental illness yourself"
stupid bloody posters.

"Kill Cheryl first Ken, Kill Cheryl first"

for some reason those words are louder than ever at the moment.

I wish they would go away.
distorted tendencies and i was feeling so good. 020328
Photophobe Burning I wish I hadn't read that.

We've got more in common than I thought.
blown cherry isn't it ironic?
don'tcha think?
Photophobe Burning what an annoying thing to say.

Yes, its actually just like a black fly in my chardonnay, like a death row pardon, 2 minutes too late.

Real fucking ironic.
what's it to you?
who go