Satin runs from dried stains
in torn reminders of convenience
Morning tastes of stale sweat and disappointment... again

Displaced retribution is a punishable offense
sentenced in hangover flashbacks fusing pain in lust heavy deviance
coddling complacency, impaling the nuisance of a persistent past

That serrated double edge glistens with humility and humiliation
licked clean by ravenous canine
flinging leftover apathy on unwitting pawns

Feeding on the deceptively needy
blinded by intoxicated cliches
mistaking release for emotion

Condemnation bartered in stolen commodities
Toilet water hydration reconstitutes enough to bleed
behind neuropathic armor and addiction to the nether

You want me to fear you.
Then you want me as a friend.
You want me to leave you,
then come right back again?
But I've done a bit of jumping,
and it actually wears me out.
You want my trust and sympathy,
but then you lie and make me doubt.
You don't even know,
so how ever could I?
I ask you simple questions,
but when hypothetical you ask why.
I just want some answers.
And you say I overthink?
But whose the try-hard mysterious guy?
You even hide your eyes just to blink.
Well I'm honestly done with these games.
You always think I'm joking but now I'm really not.
I'm tired of these mind games you huge genius,
and your lies are making me feel so distraught.
I'm breaking out in stress hives over nothing,
because nothing is these jokes you like to play.
But if both sides aren't really having fun,
then it makes sense for one of them to walk away.
And that is why I have to let you go now,
and trust me, I'm still having a good day.
I'm not like you, you stupid smarty!
I don't need fake pity to be okay!

Words-
They brought her down like a straw house.
Secluded her like a trapped mouse.
They gave her fear and she learned what lonesome was,
They taught her to hate and never again would she trust.
From a simple "hello" to a complex "goodbye",
She was alarmed and aware, and no one knew why.
Because words-
They stained her mind,
Imprinted upon her heart.
Lit a flame in her eyes that drew in dark.
Words-
burnt to her young tongue but not to theirs,
came with eyes like dark room spotlights.
Hard... cold stares.
So there the monster sat in fright-
a moment of despair,
but long came one sweet somber friend-
the trusting, loyal pup who'd always care.

Maybe I don't have a mind,
but at least I'm not crazy.

I fallen so many times,
so I'm so experienced.

I've been cheated and left behind;
I know my friends and enemies.

I hear the echos of memories;
they see how far I've come.
So I know I've come so far.

Don't have a lot of friends,
so music's number 1.

Would **** for solitude,
but then where is the fun.

Maybe it's complicated,
but that makes an adventure.

Sometimes the darkest times,
are ones we gladly venture.

Optimist living for a life we understand. We were never idiots; we have the upper-hand. Notice their all falling down the depths of agony, but we optimist live strong, proud, and free.

The worst thing I ever did to myself
was let a man control me.
I let him decide my worth
I always waited for his permission
I lived in fear everyday.
I let him threaten to leave me
I let him threaten to hit me
I let him take my life
as if it was his.
Nothing but a puppet on strings.
To this day I still feel fear when I
know I shouldn't.
He made everything feel wrong.
He made me feel like a prisoner.
I'm still trying to get used to being
my own person.
When I do things he didn't like
I have to remind myself that it's
okay. That he can't threaten me
anymore.
Like I think he's going to show up
and tell me how
stupid
i am.
tell me how
worthless
i am.
Tell me I'm nothing
but a burden to my parents
and everyone around me.
He would tell me all my friends hated me
He ruined me.
But ******* am I trying.

I woke up on a black stained beach
In a country I wasn't sure of
The ocean appeared to me
More reckless than ever
With your body in it
Looking back at me

I somehow lost the pain
That was always inevitably connected to love
I found peace within you
And you helped me recreate it
Into faces with
Your unwavering blue eyes
And my uncontrolable lips

I could see the way you took my fear
And slowly replaced it with trust
And I could love again
Like it was always intended

it began with eye contact,
it proceeded with a kiss.

turned into a mouth shut tight.
and a hand that didn’t want to write.
drowning in  d e n i a l.
knowing very well it could only spew the truth:

the you i painted in poems,
a truth that would never exist.

it eventually resurfaced with pain.
piercing sadness masked with a burning anger.

it continued with pain.

it ended with only more poems.
but not of you,
of hope.
of love for myself.
for my strength.
for rescuing myself.
and for finally realizing
that you never could.    

--

and yet here i am:
post-pain,
post-hatred,
post-you.
still writing poems about it.
just so that i can be free to feel something else.
there is still anger—
but only such that is reflected unto myself.
for trusting someone who never even earned it.
for loving someone who never even did.

i know now:
the poems i wrote about you
are better than you ever will be.
gave me more than you ever could.
a monster i painted as a savior.
one poem. at a time.

my words are pure,
& you could never take that away from me.
my words,
they only saw the best in you.
the small, minuscule sliver that shined brighter than the rest of you.
insignificant in theory.
but something my words could turn into beauty.

…painting you as everything i wanted you to be.
ignoring the thorns.
and the poison.
that you stuck me with.
which only grew stronger
and more prominent with time.
only to ultimately destroy me.
quieted my words.
because the sliver of you was now gone.
the thorns and the poison were all that were.
existing only to ultimately subdue me.
the savior finally revealed as a monster.
but i could not get out.

for three years you poisoned me.
dug your thorns into me deeper and deeper.
i was stuck and pricked so many times
my skin was permanently blood red,
covered in scars.
squeezing my bones
that could take no more.
shackled to a love that was never a love,
a person that was never a person.
a form of exile.
******* the beauty out of my name.
a voice that could only make my skin crawl.
my sense of trust ripped to shreds.  
a trust that will never be the same.

but from horror,
from trauma,
from violence,
from pain,
i gave birth to strength.
manifested a jail cell
into intoxicating
freedom.

Things and people who are not linked to their soul's higher will are finding it increasingly difficult to maintain their world of lies, deception, and greed. The old model that is based upon blaming the victim, stealing from the poor, and denying the Truth is starting to crumble.  This was bound to happen eventually because constructs based on darkness and disease can never sustain themselves since they come from a place of lack and fear.  In fear's place a bean sprout of goodness is growing.  We can really hope and see the magic and magnificence of the contructs of love and peace blossoming.  This is a peaceful protest to the old ways.  This sheer goodness is beautiful and it's briliance of goodwill shines upon everything.  You can only deny love and goodness for so long before it encompasses your heart and works to transform you.  Love and light always win anyway. The ability to succumb to the tiny spark of love in our hearts, even if we've detached from our hearts long ago will either make or break us as a species.  Some people walk around with thick shells covering their hearts, but this is only a protection from hurt.  When there becomes enough safety in the world, those shells will come off.  And that will be a glorious day.  Enough people are getting fed up with the current governmental system of control and oppression.  It is a complex game of the people in power exploiting the innocent, as well as the truth-seekers.

Compassion and empathy are tremendous healing forces.  Many of people's problems stem from misunderstandings, assumptions, and judgements.  There are some instances where one is hurt intentionally, but that is when taking a stance of compassion is the most powerful.  In the moment of our greatest pain, lies the most opportunistic moment to have the deepest of empathy.  This is not shifting the responsiblity upon the victim.  No.  This is preventing the extended period of rage and bitterness that usually follows a victimization.  The hardest part about being a victim is the aftermath of the offense.  PTSD is a *****.  If we are able to have compassion for ourselves as well as our assailant in the moment, the easier it is to be free from the suffering that ineviably follows.  This is a skill for masters.  We are all masters.

Manic Depression means a lot of things.
It means when I'm up, I'm way up.
It means when I'm down, I'm way, way down.

My PTSD makes me *** repulsed,
And my manic depression gives me an excess desire for ***,
And my demisexuality makes me only want that
With you.

With manic depression,
There's lots of unwanted thoughts,
And destruction on my self esteem,
And a false sense of superiority all at once.

And my generalized anxiety disorder
Makes me hyper-vigilant,
And repeatedly going over unwanted thoughts.

And my major depression,
It makes me lose my appetite,
It causes slowness in my activity,
Y'know,
All that usual exhaustion.

But I guess the thing is,
If I can pick myself back up
From complex PTSD and the other plethora of things,
I guess I'll be okay.

It can be difficult, but it's the best I can do.

I can only be the best I can be,
And I'm still working on that.