I am lost,
I have pretended for so long that I am no longer sure what constitutes myself or the me I created to please others...

The demons of my dreams with their silvery crimson wings rest upon my shoulders disguised as angels;

Beautiful yet horrifying.

Pretending to be something they are not, a common occurrence in the world we live in today, yet one that nobody acknowledges.

Because to admit that, is to say that we have lost ourselves.

And to lose ourselves is to plunge our minds into an anarchy of which depression and anxiety rule over all else.

You were right, in every aspect of the sense;
You were entirely right.
I destroy sunlit beaches with endless darkness,
I ruined the gardens of Eden,
And here I lay now, surrounded by the corpses of my decisions rotting in my mind.

I break hearts that I never wished to break,
I even managed to break my own heart into enough pieces to fill the cup that I drink from.

Poisonous were the things I did and poisonous will they forever be.
.
.
You, were, right.
I am a poison to myself, and I have truly lost everything that once held meaning, be it you, or the love of my friends.

And here I lay now, apologizing for something I did many moons ago because it still haunts me...

You may not care and that is the appropriate response, but I want you to know that you were right, I lost everyone and everything I truly ever cared about because of my own
God
****
*Decisions.

Tears fall from the heavens whilst the angels bewail humanity

It's hard to watch the sun go down every night; the yellow and orange trickling beyond the horizon like a wounded animal, bleeding out into nothingness.

Take the moon;

Cold, tangible, dead.

It's only visible because of the Sun. The same sun it sends to a dark grave every night.

Much like the moon, a family cannot exist without two people, a mother and a father.

Much like the moon, love cannot exist without two people whose love is tangible through *I am in love with you's and the occasional will you bring me some nugs im really hungry.

Much like the moon, a poet cannot exist without inspiration.

Much of which, is inspiration through sadness.

The story goes Eve tricked Adam
But in our story it goes the other
Way
Around.

You see I am the wind, ceaseless ever present, but always changing.

You are the garden, solid, tangible, always growing.

As the wind blows I walked into your life, ever changing I blew away the webs of despair those deathly spiders placed there so long ago.

You accepted me arms outstretched because I was different because there was something about me that was not tangible, it's a shame you didn't see it sooner...

I never had a true home as my home was the sky filled with shadows, hope, and things yet to come.

I only spoke in broken hearts and teardrops

But you, you were wonderful, different, special in ways you could not even imagine.

I thought myself saved from the oppressive life of drifting through the sky aimlessly day by day.

Instead the winds which had left me stranded for so long picked up the very day we began to talk.

And so those deathly spiders blew away and in the proccess the winds became to harsh and I lashed out.

Remember the time when I wasn't a monster?

Your heart fell to the floor amidst a pile of snakes and spiders whose fangs latched on filling it with poison, my poison.

And so I left you without a clue that I had stabbed your heart with my wind, and that the part of the garden cultivating love for me was gone before morning.

I've always been this way, a heathen whose impulsive ideals lead him to commit horrible acts upon the most beautiful of gardens...

I promise,
Give up;
I will never
Love you.
I will always find a way to
Hate you.
It makes me sick thinking about how people could,
Even find it a joy;
To spend time with you,
I will always want
To tell you that,
It makes me happy.

They say that your memories prevail over all other things.

These memories that hold every experience and idea that your brilliant mind ever brought to life.

Painful ones, sad ones, joyful ones, wistful ones, all this because your mind is a vault.

Watching someone die changes you, for the better or for the worse that's your choice.

I've watched someone die; in fact it was one of my best friends whose last breath fell from his lips with the words "I'm sorry" drifting on the stale air.

My mind has stowed this memory into a vault and has never once let it out to play.

Now, it is playing.

His face, the way he smiled and made you laugh, his name rolled off the tounge like water.

My happy memories are hardly enough any more...

How about the time that I was mentally and emotionally abused by a woman who I believed loved me for me.

Instead she took my heart and twisted it into the shape of gun that fired into my mind the day she left.

My memories were scrambled, turned inside out, unfixable;Broken. Beyond. Repair.

I have so few happy memories left untainted, so few.

Everytime I get sad it doesn't just stop; it spirals, uncontrollably, and quickly into Oblivion.

My memories have been tainted, I recommend you hold on to every one of the happy ones you've got left.

Good luck...

There was an old man of Des Moines,
A little thief stole all his coin;
But he cried, 'little thief,
I will give you much grief!'
That oh so poor man of Des Moines.