Something Precious

something precious is difficult to find
by its very nature it hides from you
without regard to the needs and wants of you

ironically it wants the same from you
searching on paths different from yours
perhaps meeting but not recognizing

so walk you must
taking the path laid out before you
looking for that promise of something precious

it is not of money or gems
or gold and platinum
for this is priceless

for some the search can be long
while others find it short
but for me it has seemed never ending

but found i did
that one thing that makes complete
my own personal world

what else could bring such joy
and provide the anchor for my soul
but your friendship of course

Where do I begin?
Where do I even start?
How do I convey this to you?
This feeling,
This energy,
This essence of life
That is throbbing through me,
Rolling,
Flowing,
Alive.

I can feel my heart mending.
I can feel the thread pinching
in and out coating the exterior
in a protective layer of glass.

I can feel the irregular beat return to its natural state,
and most of all, I can feel the veins
fill with hot rushing blood
trying to reach the ends of my extremities.

But I hate it.

Why is it that when I finally sew the stitch,
I would rather rip it wipe open for the
diseased thoughts of you to make its way through
and infect my soul once again?

As if my heart is mending over replicas of recovery.
And when all is said and done,
these trapped grains of sand will come pouring out,
leaving my chest just as hollow as it is supposed to be.

You see, I can't seem to unleash myself
from the remains of your embrace.

It's as if I can feel my heart mending
but I'm afraid of losing you so much so that I wouldn't think twice
to break it all over again the moment it is repaired.
I'm torturing myself with broken memories and empty promises;

I am the master of my own destruction.
And you, my dear,
are the devil on my shoulder whispering,
"One more stab for the road, it'll make you stronger I solemnly swear."

- g.d.

Its welcome in the darkness
But scary in the light
It leaves me feeling empty, cold and tight
The contrast of the noise
The difference of confusion
A quiet I can understand
A battle I am loosing

A child afraid of noises and whispers
Not knowing the real fear hides inside
Mixed with the truth
Mixed with the lies
Hidden from protective eyes

The moment of peace
The weight of tears
Pain carried through the years

a clean white page
freshly pressed
lined with blue
punched three times
stared back at my face

a single hand
took to pen
scribbled in the margin

words told stories
which recounted memories and dreams
blank ink streamed over the freshness

connecting lines to swirls
and dots to dots
sparking electricity

the lines save me from my past
and protect me from the future
decoding each line
I wait to find the answer

You were a nightmare
in a fairy tale disguise
and my heart

heart

aches so hard
you

You were ribbons of blood     tied

so   tightly
twisted around   around my heart
I didn't mind the least, I
distorted
rains as

It fractures across my face
cracks of nostalgia

placed by lightening storms
that crackle
across
my skin

With a slight
slapping
                 sting

I hate time, the way it speeds up
                                                                      slows
down
and     jerks      

me around

It slaps me in the face
Cackling with a ferocity of time travel
rewind reverse velocity

Dragging me by a thought
        
            thread

shatter the light with
explosive
hammering in my eyelids

My atmosphere darkly  
                               clouded
by
lowly haunt clouds

My heart rumbled thunder in my chest  
my eyes swelled stormy
crashing down with foamed black water

I

I struggle to breathe with the crushing
promise broken
      ribs
that cage my lungs

Your cold
spiny fingers

clutch

my heart
as it
        beats
your fingernails needle poison
into
my veins

stopping blood flow once again

In your sick twisted play-time
my eyes witness
my veins
pulse
black

     you

you squeeze completing the crime
blood covers your hands
    
          you wash them clean
     they are stained
  blood blue      
       ribs splinter
your fingertips
       the moon will pull
the
    tide
to wash me into the sea.