If i wrote a story, it would be a tragedy. But it would not be about the blood that flows from my legs at night when my mother thinks im sleeping. It would not be about the days wasted crying because no one could hear me when i broke. It would not include the story of two 3 year olds who lost a loving father they barely had enough time to know, or a loving wife who had the light of her life taken by the forces of death. It would not be about the darkness that engulfed my friend, who then became the darkness, and bled away into the shadows to join the ghosts that called so softly to him, he could not resist. It would not be a story of the girl who took over 100 tablets in 3 days because of a boy she loved who told her to do it, and the pressures weighing on her shoulders were pushing her into an early grave. It would not be the tragedy of her survival and the continuous pain and shame that she endures to this day. No. my story would be about the futility of life's arrangement and how the world around us is crumbling to dust and we are doing nothing. It would be about the thousands who are starving and crying who no one seems to give a damn about because they're the 'minorities'. It would be about life's cycle with death, and how so many are ripped from loving families before their time because the universe works in cruel ways, and -if there is a god- he or she is moving chess pieces across their board and watching them crumble. My story would be about the skilled children and poets that no one has heard of because, as everyone knows "its not cool to write poetry" . My tragedy would be about the injustice of law and how those in love are denied being bound to one another because they are of the same sex. It would be about the millions lost to wars that history repeats again and again and again over new, yet just as trivial things. This is not my tragedy. This is everyone's.
It's always been a thought that's been hard to swallow
the giving up my life only just to follow.
The turning point is already gone
there's no changing my mind now, what's done is done.
I see those around me prosper and live
breathing in their lusts without a care to give.
I ask, "was this all worth it in the end?
To trade a life of living by the world so I could hold your hand?"
That I may walk on the water and not fear the waves
that I may see only comfort in the sight of my grave
this life is but a fraction of what I can't see
departing from the worldly, but in a sense being much more free.
I couldn't pull my thoughts together as to why
this continuous pursuit of you keeps leaving me dry.
Let your rain pour in me, for I am a bowl,
speak your truth in my heart, fill my dusty soul.
The puzzle I see remains in a jumble
but in the midst of the storm, your mighty voice rumbles.
It is louder than the thunder and clearer than the rain,
it casts out the worry, it ceases the pain.
I say "here I am" and you take heed to my call
I brace for impact with my back to the wall
I feel you then, more like a warm summer breeze
that draws forth my breath and brings me to my knees.
"This will be worth it", you whisper to my heart
"You'll be mine forever, you've been mine from the start."
From wretched ancient under-dark it spills
Aerosolized hatred, malice and strife
Indiscriminate in who it kills
The southern wind, enemy of all life.
Malevolent sirocco, seething with wrath,
Melting metal, human flesh, skin and bone
Painful is death for all trapped in its path.
For what great sin will this wind atone?
Eleventh plague, locked away by god,
Grisly screams for mercy choked off by gust
Nothing dares to grow were this wind has trod.
All who smell the wretched scent turn to dust.
Movements silent, striking without warning
Lucky are those who live until morning.
Love I feel shining bright as the night sky
I feel as if I’m on a cloud; relaxing staring at the stars
You’re that one star shining the brightest
All the time you are with me
My heart pounds loud in my chest
I have a forever star
My smile gleams with you here
I have someone to talk to
Someone listens to every word
The twinkle in your eye is so bright
The skies are as dark and cloudy as my thoughts
That moment I still have you
Our smiles are together
Our laughs are as joyous as children playing
Forever I have a star
We can almost gleam
You pull me into this mystical place
The place beautiful just you and me
Yes we are bright
Our love is passionate
Forever my star you are still shining
I read of my suffering, and the writing has depth, meaning
nuance imagination and now
it's just a smooth comfortable silken slide of living
I guess I have no eye for detail, no feeling for nuance
Living in a rip tide for so long, the fight
the struggle to stay afloat and not die with water
in my lungs brought out a technicolor world
that I can't feel, can't see now, can't get it to appear,
and every day things happen, but I can't feel them, think them
It's just smooth and easy and I'm used to rocks and sharpness and pain
But I am not sleeping.
I am steady staring at my ceiling, trying to recollect the last time I felt this forlorn.
...the last time I felt a hollowness make its home in the pit of my stomach, only to be satisfied by the thought that you might be yearning for me, the same way I am aching for you.
... and I am still not asleep.
The butterflies in the pit of my stomach,
are now dying.
They once fluttered around so proudly for you,
but you've left them poisoned with abandonment the day you called your quits.
It's 3: 17am
and I am almost asleep.
But I wonder...
If the same loneliness that consumes me,
consumes you too?