Building a life on cotton candy dreams
smells of the circus and carnival rides
Exuberant children in tousled sheets
Doing untrained acrobatics on a highwire of hope

Melted sugar nightmares crash without a net
Eyes burn in the stench of memories and laughter
Wearing that broken wire like a decade old prom dress
Wishing pieces of that life didn't still smell so sweet
Making everything sour by comparison

Ever wary of the remote reminiscence of
laughter and the exuberance of children
Flesh torn by that highwire gown
Whenever someone smells of the circus and carnival rides

trembling

in anticipation
          in fear
                  hope
                          or desire

from cold
          or sickness

in the emptiness
          of a world without love...

...I tremble

Im finally ready to talk about my mom
Now that I feel this numb
she died half a decade ago
and I loved a woman half a decade ago
When I was playing video games on the couch
on the corner imagine of that L shaped green couch
and I slowly realized out of the corner of my mind
more out of the corner of my consciousness
that my mother was dead
laying right next to me
Cold unresponsive and unbreathing
It was now looking back on it
a direct parallel to at least two different moments in my life
When my brother died and I stood outside my mothers bed
barely gathering the courage to wake her
often crushing eternities of silence keeping me from prodding her
from daring to say her name much after
I dont remember when she did awoke
I dont remember her unbearable fear
or the wanton panic in her eyes
but I remember my own
Oh I remember my own and
I kept her just out of sight of cognizance
Before moms funeral
the latter correspondent showed
I had *** with a lie
a lie I knew well
But I kept it just out of sight
No just at the edge of my mind
The drive home
with her brother in the back seat
and my *** deep inside her
fertile cheating womb
My Dark Twisted Fantasy
Bent right around me
I dont remember what I said
Panicking
I couldnt look her in the eye
Id only see myself
And I have to keep her out of sight
just on the line
to where maybe I didnt get here at all
maybe not me but another me
isnt experiencing this reality at all
shock they call it i think
fear
coping
dissociation
compartmentalizing
the trauma
the oh not me
I sat there for how long
playing a game I did not remember
as it was going on around me
my mind was already bleaching
forget forget fade to black
and still she laid there
not breathing
covered in her own blood and mucus
in a position that was disgustingly revealing
till they came
and took her carcass away
and I held someone
some family member or friend or some such
not even blinking and her
just out of sight
just out of thinking
until she left
and my weakness unyielding
exited too
only cold reality now reaching

The epilogue
of this ugly selfish poem
isnt all that revealing
not like before
not like after
I havent been able to form a real relationship
even at twenty three
I maybe came close but
Ive realized im very much a broken being
there was some sort of lesson
or personal growth
some sort of fundamental strength or courage
that was supposed to be found in hope
theres supposed to be a happy ending
a someone special waiting for me
no its not whats on tv
its all my sanity can dream
yet i cant share or feel
these dark deathly thoughts
i cannot even risk now
being rejected instead of
alone in my haught
oh ill only look
in the dark corners of the web
and ill only take and ill never give
i dont know where else to look
i never really did
and i have no moral compass to guide
only my experiences now to abide
so the epilogue is simple now:
Maybe I'll see you one day,
Around the corners of these ugly selfish words.

Nights like tonight are the hardest;
Clear bluish black skies-
the deepest velvet cradling the full moon...
These nights are hardest, because I
still remember her silhouette
in silvery moonlight; My angel,
my darling, sleeping peacefully
as I cradle her close...
A dream come true, but now-
just a dream; One borne of
clear bluish black skies-
the deepest velvet cradling the full moon...
Nights like tonight are the hardest.

I woke up still dreaming,
A silly little seeming.
I dropped a cup upon your door,
And your mom to my wonder, beckoned me forth.

She asked questions I must confess,
My mind remembers not but my heart craves, even at rest.
She smiled down knowingly,
and in that, Moment, greedily,
My mind played tricks to give me reason
To find you again, to beckon forth
As if I was ever a prince. And you anything but, a nevermore.

Oh, such, poison, sickly sweet,
In those hazel eyes, and bountiful *****,
In your perfect hair and perfect smile,
That in my dreams a stranger convinces me, it's worth a while.

Oh, broken heart, still beating,
That even yet still needing,
Something from days best forgot,
From traumas that still burn hot.
Go away, I say. Find a new devil to ache.
Nay, nay. Nay.

Ah am I more scared to remember, or more afraid to forget?
And I may never find a lover, not one that's here,
I only look in the distance now.
She's the only one who can get near.
Just me and my regret.
Still just you. My Amanda Dear.

Unable to breathe
My heart, in a state of panic
My soul, half joy/ half pain
With the darkness a true void
And the light, divine
So twisted in two
That breaking is imminent
Which survives
Darkness...
Or
Divinity
For to live as two
Is not living

Frozen behind a weary mind
Thoughts like a blizzard of pain
Unable to be sorted
Unwilling to be tamed
Helpless, left to ramble
At peace from without
Tumultuous within
Life passes while standing still
Loved and Alone
Smoke chokes lungs
Sun burns eyes
Stillness in body
Burning soul steeped in pain
Wings bound by fear
Brittle from the war
With heart and mind
To languid to move
Motivated only to disappear
I can see in through a window
I can feel from across the room
But the sensation of life
The will to fight
Has all but disappeared
A ghost in the real world
Filled with the pain
Of the memory
Of love

Can't. Won't. Will not.
I see you there. My weakness.
You aren't always there. You pick
And You choose.
Heart bump. Instagram. Dread.
Same old game. Can't grow up. Can not move on. You're always there. Waiting.
Apathy. Desire. Fear. Loathing.
A cycle of reincarnation. An atheist Buddha. The same life. Feeling new by it's blistening intensity. Just raw.
Festering and sterile.
I do blame You. For everything. But I won't walk away from You. Depression is obsession.  I'm consumed by You.
Cold. Can't see. Can't think. Blood moving eerily. Playing Axis and allies. Can't speak.
You hit me the morning after. I don't like myself. I'm late for work. Again. I dissapointed my Father. Again. I Made bad decisions. Again. Even this sick soliloquy, is  no therapy for me anymore. You watch me. You'll stay for a while. Your face is painfully expressionless. Your eyes dull. You'll be back again. Like the cold winds and goosebumps. One leading to another. Fading, for only a while. If I make it this time I'll see you on the other side.
And if not, at least I'll, go in the light. Even if hell fire is all I right.
Maybe You'll be there waiting. And you won't ever go. I'd miss you. I'd miss you so.

I can live
In the joy of moments lived
If I knew
You found joy
In those moments...Even now

You may not be surprised to hear
After being brought up by a violent mother
And years of reckless living
That I have had therapy several times
And bought several t-shirts
Art therapy
Group therapy
****** therapy
And it must be said that they helped
Along with proper medication
Things improved and I became calmer
In fact, a certain amount of peace descended
And many people were kind and helpful
But no-one tells you what to do
During long hellish nights
When your spine and brain are screaming
Reminding you of just who you are
And why.

                         By Phil Roberts