I am ready to swim
I am standing on the beach, I can feel the ocean on the wind, and I think
It seems these things do not matter.
"How vast is the sea?"
"How deep is the water?"
"How strong is the tide?"
I am brave.
I've felt many things in life, and I know this is not
I am convinced that in this moment I will be able to hold
Because of fear or a sense of pride
Because of passion and a sense of hope, not
Because I am simply ready
(Now read it backwards)
She was alone. She had her friends and her family and her pets. Yet she was alone, and even more so, she was lonely. She had never felt love. Never felt the raw emotion that goes along with it. She had only known the pulsating flesh and the heat that radiated from the bodies of which she had laid upon. Each night she would fall asleep cloaked in the heavy plush blankets that sprawled across her bed, and every morning she would awake colder than the previous night. She would walk a few steps from her bed to her bathroom. Graze her hand across the granite counter top. Reach for the stained porcelain sink handle, and begin to brush her stained porcelain teeth. She dreaded the mornings. As she stared in the mirror and she tended to her hygiene she felt her eyes begin to weigh down. Each morning she would try to succeed on her own and each morning she would fail. As she'd leave her bathroom she would gaze upon her dress for work that morning. She would slide it up to her waist, over her shoulders, then she would let out a deep breath. She refused to put her makeup on before this, she knew what came next would hurt. As she began to reach behind herself she struggled. She pulled and tugged upon the zipper. Rolling across her bed at times. Feeling the pulsating flesh and radiating heat with each turn. When she was finally finished with her battle she would stare,entranced, into the mirror hanging from the door of her bedroom. She felt no accomplishment, no success, and even less happiness than the minimal amount that she felt when she awoke. She only felt a shadow, a void, behind her during every attempt. Each day she would do this, and each night she would repeat the struggle with her dress. She longed for pulsating flesh and radiating heat to help her zip and unzip her layers. She longed for someone to fill the void. Yet every morning she would zip and unzip her dress, adding and removing the layers by herself.
I want something that I cannot have. I cannot have it because I don't truly know what it is. I've seen it polished and propped as if it were on display and I've heard the stories of how much time and effort it took to make it look as such. But I want it. I want love. I want the idea of it at least.
I want the fights brought about by events simpler and less important than the time we wasted to have them. I want to be pained by the sight of her pain and know that the feeling of knives piercing my chest when I see her cry is there because I would literally drive them there myself, if only to prevent her tears.
I want our laughs to intertwine over the smallest things and our conversations to stretch our minds over the biggest. I want to see you sleep at night and I'll smile because I know that you're finally at peace. And I want you to smile when you wake up because you know that I'm fighting to make your reality better than your dreams.
I want love. I want romantic love, I want crazy love. I want passion. I want to pick you up in my arms and in that brief present get lost in your presence. I want to be in you when I am in you and have you wish that I would stay forever. I want to be in your heart and mind, and I want our love to be torturous and blind.
I just want love. I want the idea of it at least.
The problems of the mind are the loneliest by far.
They eat at you and eat at you until you are just a shell of meat and bone.
You walk and you talk as if nothing were wrong, but you see, the problems of the mind are the most burdensome of all.
How can you blame someone for the actions that they did in your mind.
For the **** they committed. For the scars they created.
They look at you the same, yet all you can see is the monster that took you and you fear that they will take you again.
Yet, they never really took you at all.
You see the problems of the mind are the most confusing by far.
The growling meant that he was a killer and for it he was neutered and locked in chains.
But to you he is still the man that you see and love everyday.
So the growling became a comfort.
A battle cry to show the world, because he loved you and trusted you with his world, he would always be by your side.
The world may take them as growls of your own, for your own crimes, and that's fine.
Because when you howl the half the world howls and you know that you have even more pained souls on your side.
You see the problems of the mind are the most trial-some by far.
She is your angel and she saved your life that night.
You tell her but she will never quite know that you truly believe it.
She covered you in her wings and covered you tight.
She took the blunt force of the car so you would not die.
Now you owe your life to her and she cannot make sense of it.
She will never know that to you she was actually there.
You see the problems of the mind are the most painful by far.
But now the *****, the dog and the angel all stay in your life.
Never knowing their true roles in your mind.
Never knowing what they said or did that changed your life.
Following the same pace as the previous night.
Yet you sit alone and in the silence cry, because you still feel the ****, feel the wings and hear the growls at night.
But no one will ever know.
That is why the problems of the mind are the loneliest by far.
When you woke me up
The first thing I saw were stars
Only they weren't stars;
They were your eyes.
They were so captivating that I found myself lost and swore I saw the entire universe.
When you woke me up
I saw your smile
But I thought it was the sun
For it shined so bright that I had to squint and as its radiance slowly stretched outward towards my skin I felt comfort in it.
When you work me up
I saw your scars and they were beautiful to me. They showed me your pain and I kissed everyone so you knew that regardless of what others may have seen I saw them as a perfect part of you.
These scars molded who you were and who you are and in that I find beauty.
When you woke me up
You woke up more than just my body; you woke up my soul.
I see images of a girl walking in the street
On a rainy night, in a black dress, with bare feet
She seems lost
Rather her destination is not complete
Stuck here, where love's perceived as the means
She mutters to herself although she can barely speak
Shivering and shaking as the rain pierced and stings
Her tears blend with the precipitation into a solid stream
Still she cries for hope, she cries for faith, she cries for me.
I'm sitting under a crying tree
Praying no tears fall upon me
I can not believe what I can not see
So sing your tragic song
The horns blast in every field
The moon falls while mad men kneel
The cloaked ones who in fear ****
Will all cry and sing along
Call it glory
Call it misery
Call it faith
Call it empathy
Call it truth
But you know it's just a lie
Call it love
Fight the hate
Hide your tears
Behind the pain
Call it life
But you know it's just a lie