Got to remember
how the **** to swim
before it's far too late-
before I must surrender
to the flow of things in Time

Got to break this spell,
got to break free from
this hell
in which I hold myself
captive
pleading for
a more fair Judge and Jury;

Holding myself prisoner
even though not consciously,
this sort-of Shadow puppetry
is forcing me to see that
I've got to relearn to swim
before it's far too late-
to rectify and repurpose
all these persistent negative Energies
and turn all this darkness
once more into light.

A way of life (you say you you are not a poet)


A way of life.

A not uncommon phrase.

But still, an *uncommon concept.

What is our *'way' of life?

What is my way of life?

Beyond the supposed-to-do,
Which is a way, pre-charted for you
By others, how does one live
Above and beyond, the day to day?

You say you are not a poet.
I say way.
I say you have chosen a life,
Where words are jewels, choices,
Public choices, to be very praised,
Kicked or worse,
Ignored.

That is a choice. Test is:
I have a way,
Of speaking in my voice,
Saying what I need to say.

I have chosen the way of a poet,
For better or worse.

Don't tell me you are not a poet!
You are out there, to be read.
Courage is not lacking.

You have a way of life.
It is distinguished,
It is dangerous.
Only the brave
Dare come this way.
Craft can be learned,
Courage, never.

Here you will find oncoming lights
roll against waves of red traffic.
The crimson tide is like a landslide
along side a river of white,
bereft of blue
on this morning commute.
Not a single star to dot the predawn gloom that blooms
into today's paper.
Children pantomiming parents
for the rest of their lives
while the adults bicker over the right blend of color.
Kids being new to the illusion have no experience
to reel in the meaning behind ideals
that have been rewritten and only go on to
learn the bloodlust.
A wet rag
wrung
with bodies
that soak through a toy balloon
full of hot air.

We are never free of our Demons
We learn to ignore them
We learn to drown them out
We learn to live with them
Or we get drowned by them
And don't live at all

Our Demons only want one thing
They want to see you squirm
They want to see you give up
They want to see you fail
But you must not
There comes a time you must face them

When you face them
It seems like you against an army
It seems like you against the world
It seems like you against yourself
Because you are fighting yourself
You are your own fiercest Arch-Demon

After you accept this
You can finally conquer yourself
You can finally conquer the Demons that come from without
You can finally conquer even the world itself
And make it tremble
Before your awesome might

But be forewarned
These Demons are powerful
These Demons are smart
These Demons are adaptable
They are all of these things
Because you are all of these things

The lyrics float through the air
A song I have heard many times before
An impaled heart on the album cover
Warning of the pain
They will convey through their lyrics
Lyrics that at times may as well have been taken
From the deepest recesses of my head and heart

A song in which the narrator
Finds the one who gives them
Everything they asked for in life
I found not one, but two
Two men like that in my life
Who both refused my affections
And whom I hold little to no animosity toward
Though when I think of it
They're rather different

This first one, we will code him Belase
Is so unabashedly in love with the 'nerdy' things
Things he helped me get into as well
Without him I would not have found a love for the zombie shows
Or for the older classic movies which he adores
Without him I would not have found the raggedy man
Who takes me on adventures through time and space
The raggedy man who in turn helped me find
The medieval sorcerer in Camelot
And the modern-day crime-solving machine
With a doctor of his own

When I was upset I went to him
He helped everything almost immediately
When I told him of my feelings he let me down gently
Too gently, perhaps, as I retain some sliver of hope
Knowing that that hope should have died by now
He made many jokes which lightened my mood
Though sometimes they were mistimed
And only made me irrationally angrier toward him
Not the source of my first wave of sadness or anger
But I always forgave him and talked of nerdy things

His love of the nerdy things hides much of himself
Though it does speak volumes about what he is willing to convey
He hides his slightly skewed views behind these things
He hides his *******
He hides his want of being in charge
His way with words like a serpents' venom through my veins
Makes me agree with what he says
Even if in my heart I know it to be against my own views
And it terrifies me

The second, we will code Silas
The first day we met, was in school
He was alumni come to visit
We spoke very little as I was shy
And in truth I had forgotten him entirely
What is the point of remembering
Someone you only meet once?
When he left I thought I would never see him again
But our mutual friend, coded May, held a sleep-over
Long, long after that first day

This first real night, as I call it
He held me in his arms as those still up
Wound down to sleep
At about four in the morning
And we slept very little, in the two hours before the others became active once more
As summer was almost upon us
The remaining high-school students, that is
I knew at the end he would be back in his second year of college
And I would be in my last year of high school

I told him a bit of how I felt
And he said no, he didn't want the emotional attachment
Of being my first kiss, or first anything as he puts it
Doesn't want emotional attachment, ha!
If he didn't want emotional attachment
Why did he continue to hold and cuddle me
Why did he take things further and practically taunt me
By holding himself over me and brushing his face across mine
All the times we almost kissed...
Though he and everyone who knows him
Says he does this with anyone who is willing

So there we have it
The fluffy serpent with the innocent face
And the man with the visage of a teddy bear
Both have taken over my heart
And even if I could decide
Which one I want more
Neither of them want me
And perhaps that is for the best

A girl who never leaves the house
A girl who had no friends until seventh grade
A girl Belase has known for three years
A girl Silas has known for a few scant months
Who would ever want
Little
Broken
Me?