There was  a dark angel
waving me down
a pathway to Hell
but then I realized
the dark was light
Hell was Heaven
and everything was fine

I was just standing on my head.

Here's to life's forbidden fruit
and the passes we never make,
to the relationships lost before being gained
and the kisses we forget to taste

Here's to a glass not quite half empty
but a little less than half full,
to the voice that steals our confidence away
and the strings the puppeteers pull

Here's to the fun that will never be had
for the sake of being safe,
to a life meant to be lived to the fullest
that turns out to be a waste

And lastly, here's to all the tomorrows
that will never come to pass,
and to every promise of a forever
that never seems to last.

interminably deserted
indelibly flawed
something's written all over this personality
in exposed invisible-to-me ink
and all the wanted ones
have the right glasses to read
the not-so-fine print
what switch is thrown
that makes them see
the next one will be a keeper
so passing over
or by way of me
dragging these wants
through their fly-by-night dust
to light on the one
that I was sure would've been me
is only the thing to do
no blames or games attached
but a heads up would be nice
a little rejection philanthropy
something, anything to fill me in
on what it is that's missing

I knew
from the moment
I laid
eyes on you
that you were
just another apple
on my Eden tree.

I was in
one of those
blessed, beautiful,
as-close-to-perfect
pauses in life
Then you showed up
and I was defeated
for surely,
the serpent wasn't
far behind.

'Consumption'

Once upon a time she believed in everything
Tried a little or a lot
of anything she was exposed to
Wrong didn’t exist
Some things were just unsuited
to her particular tastes
But faith and followership
are equally slippery slopes
and soon wrong wasn’t the issue,
because nothing was ever right.
Truth didn’t come in a bottle
or a box or a tin
it didn’t sit on a knife’s edge
or whisper from inky pages
or wobble in on shaky legs of sound
Right and wrong merged into
a mass of general indifference.
It began to seem that perhaps,
just perhaps
the very idea of truth
was mere fabrication
a carefully woven tapestry of entrapment
designed to subtly coerce the masses
into a single file line of submission
She was ashamed
because she was once a great consumer
of just those things
that now seemed so false
Reality was her defeat.
the end

'The way it is'

she thrived on discord and imperfect ideals
or so she claimed to anyone who would listen
but in truth it was only the moments of near-discord
while she was still firmly in control
of the imperfections she most identified with-
those were her best times
the moment that control was lost-
which could be traced back, incidentally,
to a late winter late night
late in the week-
at that moment she actually listened
to someone else
and stopped living only by her own truths
she cracked
completely disintegrated into misery
and immediately gave in
upon the realization
that the world she loved
didn’t exist except to/for her
for a while it was bad
everyone around her
stood on a distant shore
watching her drown on dry land
with disturbingly dry eyes
I want to tell you
that she got better
but that would be a different story
the only thing that improved
was her ability to fake a life
she couldn’t even bother to live.
the end

'and she's off... '

once there was a girl
who carried silence as an abused weapon
she didn't use it often
but when she did
it was a silence that killed
or created, depending on the situation
she would talk and talk and talk
until most were convinced
she had nothing to say
and then she would stop
no explanations
no excuses
no anything
and then she would wait
impatiently
for the inquiries to start
was she angry
or sad or confused
what was she thinking
the simple truth of it all was
nothing
she wasn't contemplating the meaning of life
or the meaning of anything, for that matter
she was playing a game
a silly, childish game
of false mystery and pretense
because she was
at the end of it all
nothing more than an attention *****.
the end