I wonder how I've ended back up in this position
dependant on not just a chemical or two, but
dependant on the love of a person
You see, I was not born a human, nor have I lived as one,

I'm used to the beauty of the darkness, for in dark places
beautiful flowers grow, but it takes eyes
shadowed in darkness for decades to see them
and to pluck them, one needs a still heart
that no longer beats with the rhythm of a living being

that darkness has shaped my world, shaped my mind
yet in her voice, her words, and her love
I've found myself slipping from that place
being pulled into one in which I do not know how to live
Here there is light, and sights to be seen
with eyes practiced to the sun

I used to believe the universe whispered to me
and maybe it still does, it's just that it's been so long
since I've listened, that its song is distant
raw, and uncaring

You see the universe is lonely,
that's why it turned into you, and into me,
to be embraced with it's own warmth
to embrace itself in its own desire,
what a simple thing we endeavor, is it not?

By becoming creatures bounded in time, and space,
we've forgotten our true self and along with it
the wellspring of love that created us,
now we seek it, although in lesser forms,
experiencing it with only a few
and the upper casts of beings know this,

Somewhere deep in our subconscious we also understand, and we know that we've forgotten it.

It's just that demons have embraced darkness, and a total absence of love, while we try to fill ourselves with small glimmers plucked from flowers that grow in the sun.

Demons, on the other hand, pluck flowers that grow only in the darkness, and those flowers have power over mortals, they will call to thee and under their spell, you will dream dreams meant for only devas, asuras, demons, and spirits.

This nectar is not meant for humans, yet in our arrogance, we reach for their stock and supply,
and with it we compose beautiful songs and paint beautiful shapes, we piece together majestic art and music that can open the mind, bend it, twist it, and mold it in ways from which it can never retreat.

We create,
Things that even devas desire,

We create,
Things that even demons devour,

But to us humans these things are toxic, they are too much, and we become lost to them.
Such that we call madness is a consequence of reaching too deeply into the well of knowledge with an unbalanced, ignorant, distracted, and frail mind, and in doing so, we forsake everything for the pitifullest glimpse of eternity.

In that place; only gods and asuras may roam freely; humans, on the other hand, are far too greedy,
far too curious, far too ignorant, and far too dangerous to possess such knowledge.

We should stick to light plucked from flowers growing in the sun,
because those flowers which grow in the darkness will only lead to our damnation, the conclusion of our race, and the manifestation of something far more terrible than any of our myths ever suggested.

I hate my life
Hate my choices

What am I to do?

reach back in time, try to find
a place where I truely belonged
out of all the places I've been
how many have really felt like home?

crazy, dazed; hazy late tomorrows
find myself regretting it all
and trying to numb all of my sorrows

in retrospect, most of my life has been a lie
so I retreat in cowardice, to hide the wounds
everpresent in my heart, for if one real scar where to emerge
I can't imagine what they would say

what would the point be? I'm a hypocrite, a liar
a shapeshifting bulldozer, running from myself
toward something less painful, destroying all in my wake

and when I arrive it's like the saying, the grass is always greener
tends to set me straight
it's unpalatable, what's on my plate

for every time I open myself to the pain,
it seems monsters, vampires, and ghosts
reach for the softest spots
and pull me back to a place
where I can't breath
can't see

and I'm really so tired
have you tried? oh I've been trying
it may all seem but a lie
but in my mind, I'm giving all I have to offer
I just don't believe any of it is good enough.

and sometimes you push it in my face,
I'm dangerous like this,
I don't want to hurt anyone
much less return to a place where I'm so cold
abandoned
afraid

because there; everything I could possibly be
falls away, and what's left of me is just what remains in your memory
It's not me, it's not the same, I'd love to be there
love you give you all the love trapped
beneath the layers of ice
that have frozen my soul, my mind
behind illusions everpresent,
where my life means nothing
and love is just an illusion; like everything else
It's not alright
I'm not ok

I'm truly sorry
I can't keep putting up a fight
I'm tormented, truly
in my mind, in my dreams, I've seen you there
and I'm terrified by what you may see
inside of me.

I've tried to keep it hidden,
but you keep pushing and pushing
and if one day you see me for all that I am
you will run away.. because

I am not who you think I am,

There are
So many things
Broken.

Chipped paint
on weathered windows,
overlooking sullen grey sky
look inside
now choose,

Face it,
or Hide.

I penned a pen bent out of my mind
asylum I seek, and of fetid dreams I reek
silence dreaded, but it seems it's all she can speak..

should have taken my time, but padded cells
they shook us to the core; in our loneliness
we held each other in embrace like no-one
has ever been held before; today I awoke
dizzy; confused, and admitted to another shore
one that swashes in pain; like an ocean of glass
and with each break, her memory shreds my heart like an open sore.

so I slowly begin to wash away the pain,
disaster being; my mind isn't even mine,
and it's always been that way;
even before I realized sanity was just a game
but in the grind of life,
it's a hellish reminder to not have been born very sane.

profusely I beg, and plead; but it's as plain as day,
she's never coming back; so slack, and bleed, and cut as we may;
administer the habitual as I plead and pray--
not to cut too deep; because this life
it's already taken most of me away.

If you faced it, what's left to fear?

the searing sound of harmony
seeping through madness in trembling tears
ringing false scents of roses
like men ****** to breathing jaded air
and everything that's been has crowded thoughts
of plagued mindsets beset to foreign dances
I see I, and all that I've been..

I see I, dancing
through blackened flames
I see I and I've seen you..

And now that I've seen you..
what is there left to fear?

Gorgeous rhythms and soothing shadows
haunt words yet to be said through the
pale light of a thousand years

I've never been all that I could dream
Now everything I can say is as a boat
lost at sea, sailing into darkness
never to be seen
to never have been conceived
in this world that's nothing more
than a hallow sleepy dream.

This is

The end of a phase
The beginning of an era

Where hope is the villain
and everything bright with dreams
of happy endings

Is perused with intent to ****
I'm not your friend
I'm not your savior

I am the gun
buried in the hate
of everyone who's ever felt
the sting of betrayal, the whip
of hate searing it's name
into the bowels of your heart

I am the beginning, the ending
of everything to come
I am your friend burying the knife
in the back of everything you believe

I am a creature of your makings
Feed me, Keep me
Hate me HATE ME

And just before you forget me,

Remember all that's been done
before its too late and everything you love
becomes forsaken, destroyed
and is left in the wake of everything,
everything you've had me become..

You know, when the police show up,
and take you away; it's imperative to know the narrative, and....
When you know just the right thing's to say,
an actor without a conscious, or desire to face
the days to come.

I'm a pretender, and a liar and a fake.
snakes slither contaminating my mind...

a laminated love letter that I just can't seem to leave behind,
I hide inside, and aside from my faceless faces

I can't remove the deep pain withering away
every last bit of my rotting insides,

I demand prosperity, while I live the life of a degenerate
taking whatever will **** the pain, anything to make
the pointlessness feel legitimate,

and if I die tonight, take my body and turn it to ash<3
let there be some hope tonight, It's a profound
intervention- invented from experience of locked doors
closed minds, and drooling humanity.

I can't fix this world; and the world can't fix me,
it's just another way to avoid moving on
seroquel dreams, and klonopin pulsing through my veins
I'm a fool, a ghost, just the shadow of a man
that used to hang pictures of his heroes on the wall
king, gandhi, teresa, dali, nhat hanh
and one day it came to an end,
and the pictures; burned, and ****** on
just to put them out.

god please, let me live and die by my accord,
for this world was never meant for me,
yet, my dream is to see the world turn
and burn away the greed, desire, and hatred

I'm just so tired, and if I'm lucky
the police will never return
because

I just wasn't ready for them to blow my brains away
like a million pink blossoms blowing in the wind,
and excuse my slang, because I believe it will end
with nothing less, and nothing more
then one loud BANG.