Remember?
The beginning,
there was only darkness, right?

How could he?
He disturbed
a still void, vacuum of light.

Perverted
instigator.
Life was a weakness absent.

The bible.
Kama Sutra
for how to twist our soft minds.

Ah deceit, you wicked *******
creeping up uninvited, as always
no one sees you coming
none will know when you’re gone
your delicious lies stay but for an instant
and here still, you find a cue
to salt the exposed wounds.

You were never missed
your many forms, vibrant faces
the infamy and calumny
stories unchecked and forgotten
buried under the moniker of bygones.
Yet the scars remain,
deep cuts betrayal, but never fills.

The entrusted deceiver
your snake in the grass
silence is deadlier than a sharp tongue
this venom cannot drown a writhing heart
hope, kindling another tragedy
the reasons are always above par
emotions run amuck behind bars.

The tongue blackens every time
you sever the threads which bind loyalty
leaving the void to **** away the remains
into a crushing dark abyss
the face carries a smile that never fades
the heart has long since withered to naught
now, it cheats itself to bitter death.

The horse ran for days. Without a moments delay it arrived to the infamous nowhere it set off to. Tracing tracks off of uncomfortable moments taken by men in black coats. That horse of his ran. Finding nowhere to run but away. Anywhere but here he told me. Here is not a place he could see his stampede of a heart settling. The stampede moved on. On and over. Over any and everything. Stepping on stools that looked like broken backs and flattened hearts. That cowboy kept running. He never stopped to recognize brilliance. The brilliance between his ears or the one between his skeletal cage of insides. The dust gathered on the platform he knew as home. People stopped by to visit once in a while. To find a flown coupe and no sign of coming back.

Nowhere. The place he eventually stumbled upon. Full of everything he has been running from. Trampling his neurotic brain waves with memories tucked in and put to bed. Cowboy couldn't make sense of the insanity. Of a pursuit of everything left behind would catch him before he arrived. The longing took over as judge. Leveling any possibility of freedom in conscious captivity. Haunting every step the man took away from every issue dropped in garbage cans. Cowboy stool up, chest out his quills drawn. Ready, steady, and ready to attack everything. When this man turned around. He found himself. Alone. Not a single heart around to listen. He did it. Ran away from everything. Including himself. Dirt and dust coving his mouth, the man stood in amazement. Astonished he had found everything he never wanted.

You have always been loved deeply and widely,

I was never loved widely, but I was more than content with the depth of your love,

I loved you beyond the depths of the ocean, but for you, the width of the sky wasn't enough

It's okay
To do without
When it's providing
Nothing
Within

Don't listen to me; my heart's been broken.
I don't see anything objectively.

I know myself; I've learned to hear like a psychiatrist.
When I speak passionately,
That's when I'm least to be trusted.

It's very sad, really: all my life I've been praised
For my intelligence, my powers of language, of insight-
In the end they're wasted-

I never see myself.
Standing on the front steps. Holding my sisters hand.
That's why I can't account
For the bruises on her arm where the sleeve ends ...

In my own mind, I'm invisible: that's why I'm dangerous.
People like me, who seem selfless.
We're the cripples, the liars:
We're the ones who should be factored out
In the interest of truth.

When I'm quiet, that's when the truth emerges.
A clear sky, the clouds like white fibers.
Underneath, a little gray house. The azaleas
Red and bright pink.

If you want the truth, you have to close yourself
To the older sister, block her out:
When I living thing is hurt like that
In its deepest workings,
All function is altered.

That's why I'm not to be trusted.
Because a wound to the heart
Is also a wound to the mind.