~ ~ ~
And in the narrow vision of my half closed eyes I see
Dark shapes emerging
And descending into every favorite object
Of my long harbored hopes and fears
And yours.
Inflicting my beloved place with darkness
They mount and dive into the realms of physics
And of clarity;

And so we sit
In our favorite coffee house with tea and cake,  and ache
And ache for we can feel their presence
As they invoke in us that fear
Of breaking mirrors and of shaking ground;

And now partaking in our gestures and our face
- They come into this world
And break what we had hoped for with a grace
That only creatures from the underworld possess
To lessen our role in the real world –
They grab hold of our arms:
Yours first
Then mine
And climb with us onto a mountain top so dark
And so remote that we now feel
As though our eyes half-closed again.

And in the beauty of this sleep
I am no longer able to shake off the beasts
Of non-reality.

Is it a love story, or just a tragedy?
Is the tragedy how completely incompetent you are?
How sad a story for someone to be so broken,
that they are no longer a person.
A person would never hurt another like that.
A true human being would never treat someone like that.
I am mean, because you are cruel.
I am finished, because you were too weak and gave up too many times.
Do not blame me for your mistakes,
do not blame me for walking.
Too much of a coward to read what you have done.

Giving up your humanity was your choice,

it was never mine.
My choice is to let you, the heartless soul that I tried to help so many times.
Who left me alone, left me and ignored me at every turn.
My choice is to live while you die.
My choice is to smile,
You just want me to remain in the hell you created for me.
While you smile,
I refuse to give anymore of myself for someone
who never once saw my life for how horrendous you have made it.
Never tried to fix it
Never gave up the things that broke it.

You were my everything,
and you took yourself away and made yourself nothing.
You ignored everything and expected me to ruin myself,
while you carried on.
I am done,
I am finished.
You are not who I loved in the first place,
you are no longer you.
I am not holding onto to who you were,
when you never would.

This is not a poem.

I just discovered I have Taylor Swift Syndrome. The subject matter of my poems seem to always be my life's tragic dismay at the hands of an "ain't shit" man. I  thus must sorrowfully self-diagnose myself with ,  as well as possibly be the first to officially coin the term, Taylor Swift Syndrome.

What is the cure you ask?

Simply taking control of my actions and not writing bitter ass "why don't you love me" poems. Most specifically my continued volunteering of my heart to people who I know are incapable of nurturing it in the way is so desires and then proceeding to bitch and moan through my creative talent about them not doing what I know they are unable to do  MUST STOP!!

Treatment you said?

A complete subject matter shift of my poetry for the next 3 to 9 month, I'm honestly unsure of how long it will take but if 9 months is enough time to create a human being it is surely enough time to change a mindset. From this point until either August 2013 or February 2014 I shall no longer be a he woman, man hater poet.

Let the journey begin.

-Dr. Rab.

As light shines through my bedroom window, casting shapes upon the wall
My thoughts drift to days long past, which I'd rather not recall.
The shadows start to twist and turn, my hands begin to shake,
And as I shift to get a closer look, my heart begins to break.
No longer do I see a wall, with shadows splayed across,
Instead I'm in another time - my reality I have lost.
Even knowing I'm no longer sane, I'm not ready to return,
Maybe if I relive the past I'll have no bridges left to burn.

there was a simile and a metaphor wrapped inside the finest golden linen inside a box and in the box was a dream and in that dream was a choice and in that choice was a life and in the seconds of bright light a time no one can possibly remember i was chosen i was born as i flew out somehow through the tides of the ocean and the rippling waters in a pond in the backyard was my hope and my peace and my gift wrapped inside wrapped around a little finger
                     and to cut the womb and let it flow out what is this why and how and nolonger must i suffer every single word of gratitude and fulfillment feels like a knife stuck in ice and now in my heart as a rainbow emerges from the rain an i bet you were happy i knew you were happy
                  thanks for sharing your great time while i sat and drowned in my own tears and my own sweat thanks for telling me what now was i am i just tell him because every breakdown every moment has led up to this to this and i wish to God i was older to get away from this to cut the womb the be reborn to cut the womb to cut the womb to cut the womb upside down down upside right left
to the circle to the circle never ending is what they said
thanks
for
telling me
about
your gr
eat
time
makes me
feel a whole lot better
easy to feel passed over in a time likethis
and you help i know you just want to help but this is getting so
getting so perfectly annihilating so perfectly exhausting so perfectly pure so perfectly wrapped like the bow ties of the gentleman around and i know i'm not that I know it and i cry myself to sleep and drown in my tears and my years i can't help but think that without you by my side all the time i'm

downwardspiraling towards a perfect circle in sync i can no longer wait and be the most patient man in the universe four long years can not turn to five and if so i selfdestruct i will nolonger yes no

A generation ago in the hope of redemption
I would look into the mirror, and shave through the steam
Reflected in dim disapproval I'd see
Half the face of my father, the contempt that is me
Looking back in the hope of connection.

He's now younger than I am, since he died before time
And I no longer feel cowed at the tone in his voice
But this morning reach up to the root of the deed
Expressed in a context, and now finally succeed
To move through past the bones of dejection.

I straighten my shoulders and grin to the past
Suck in my stomach, raise my hands to my face
Breathe deeply and uncouple a loud cry to the air
A little in sorrow, really not in despair
And draw back from the arms of the boatman

this morning, at 3:17

I was laying on your chest

awake

listening to your heartbeat

and I realized that

it is no longer my favorite song

goodbye

The rain washed a little of the grey away

Away with some of the disappointment and the turgid

Turgid feelings of abandonment and conflict

Conflict and all the other 'ents' washed away today  

Today with most of the negative things I had to say

Say anything to me now, I finally have my dream

Dream discovered, an attempt, recovered

Recovered if all dedication and zeal coalesce

Coalesce into the rebirth of my 'Ice-cream Truck'

Truck of dreams, 'bailey wick,' handing out wishing stars

Stars falling like a gentle soothing sleeping rain

Rain Washed A Little of the Grey Away, no longer insane.

Insane no longer at least not today coping coping

Coping in order not to run rabbit run away