you paint a picture with words
speaking out just to be heard
you think yout fooling me but i've known all along
your everything you say you are
except one thing
strong
your weakness shows as you string me along
i try to believe you
but deep insidee i know you are wrong
wrong about being right
yeah its a complexed contradiction
but what else should i expect
with someone that mixes fantasy with nonfiction

so mirror mirror on the wall
its about time you crumble and fall
and amidst your broke shards of glass
come to realize the past has passed

dwelling in broken memories
your drown in your thoughts
tangeled up in emotion
afriad to admit your caught
like a spider you spin your web
parallel to the cycle spinning in your head
on your worn out path you continue to tread

i dont even know what it means to be
without you
because your always haunting me
taunting me
drawing me into your cycle
its time i break free

so mirror mirror on the wall
its about time you crumble and fall
and amidst your broken shards of glass
come to realize the past has passed

turn over a new leaf
dont look back
or stop in your tracks
determine myths from facts
begin to act
like the adult you are coming to be
look from an outer perspective
begin to see
clearly now
come to think about it
i dont know how
i believed in your self doubt

so mirror mirror on the wall
its about time your shatter and fall
and amidst your broken shards of glass
come to realize the past has passed

come to peace at last
and realize
that despise
isnt a comprimise
when it comes to fate
and that hate
isnt the only way to demonstrate
your emotion

lifes as vast as the ocean
and always in motion
changing with the tide
so swallow your pride
learn how to recognize
a blessing in disguise
end where endings end
after that
begin
know yourself deep within
submerge to the surface of conciousness
and listen
to the voice within
yeah thats really livin

so mirror mirror on the wall
its about time your shatter and fall
and amidst your broken shards of glass
come to realize the past has passed

All I knew of you
Has washed away
Left behind a canvas
Covered in grey
For the blacks and whites
Just couldn't contain
The picture of you
Embedded in my brain



I still recall every blemish
And every perfection
But beyond your image
I can't make a connection
For all I knew was a product of my desire
Unreleated to reality
You merely sparked the fire
Which in time, consumed me whole
Burning out my eyes
As I gazed in your soul


Too bad no one warned me
About my facade's limited warranty
Now I'm facing the result
Due to my imagination getting the best of me

The monster I created
Devoured me entirely
As my oblivion deteriorated
So did reality

I vaguely recall
That afternoon
Except the way
Your eyes reflected the moon
As the sun lingered
Casting it's last goodbye
It didn't pause to rest in your eyes
Instead it merely evaporated
Using the night as it's disguise
I suppose it didn't think
To cover up it's tracks
For your expression captured the instant
Before the sky turned black
Entertwining with the remaining hues
Cast behind the procession
In subtle pinks and blues
Only for a moment
Would they survive
For when the moon settles in
Only your eyes remain alive
Acting as a spotlight
To your soul
Yet when you blink
Darkness devours you whole
So as I reminisce
I try to remember
That beneath all the ashes
The moon illuminates an ember

Life's ****** up
Our generation's biggest concern is filling up that red cup
Cuz we only speak out when we're getting served but we're fed up
We're trippin over our wishes cuz we were told to keep our heads up
Caught up with superstitions cuz we ran out of good luck
We're stuck inside a cage built up by satisfaction
Our conscious swallowed the key to the lock, call it desperate to a fraction
Yeah our thoughts are divided, our priorities are split
Too busy calculating how to not give a ****
We're embedded with the mindset that you can't lose if you quit
Our opinions sold out yeah we're morally ******
Cuz going with the flow garuntees open doors
So give in to your social addictions
Swallow it down with a smile and call it moral affliction
Don't worry about the obvious contradictions
How you feel and what's real only increases the friction

I’ve lost you beneath my words, my dear,
As similes drown your voice.
I’ve murdered you with metaphors,
You left me with no choice.

I’ve remembered you with language,
As I recreate what you never said.
I’ve painted you with prose, alas,
Holding you captive in my head.

I’ve carved you out of daydreams,
By whittling away at the tangible.
Everything is always what it seems,
As long as it is deemed manageable.

Oh, I’ve set free you’re emotions,
And the feelings which you’ve evoked.
By drowning you in the ocean,
Of the language which you provoke.

© Meka Boyle

Our feet can't hold us down sometimes.
As old, worn out memories lash at our pale bony ankles.
Forget me, I've faded off into another world.
Our arms can't reach our eyes sometimes.
The harsh white light of the morning bears down on us like dull rusty razors.
Lose me, I've lost myself one hundred times before.
Our ears can't tune out those distant cries,
The wind oozes in, slapping up against silence.
Ignore me, I long for what you cannot give.
Our spines can't hold us high much longer,
As they slowly droop into angles meant for brooding.
Forgive me, for only then can you let me go.
Our hearts are slowly losing rhythm with the world.
Life has become to harsh--the future too shrouded by memories.
Leave me, somewhere in the past, with all the sweet nothing's and clouded laments to the unrelentless Gods that weave together beneath my toes.

The night sky cloaks me
As the darkness invokes me
Bright stars pierce the emptiness
Filling my every thought with their iridescent presence

Nobody is in love.

Shoulder to shoulder, flesh spilling over
Flesh: our warm bodies heave
And contort together, leaving no room
For sentiment that goes deeper than
Your off white down comforter.

Nobody is in love.

The harsh sunlight seeps in
Through down turned blinds,
And thin, translucent eyelids,
Both half open, but oblivious to the
Indifferent world. Life is too much with us-
Never leaving us alone to really feel:

The cold, smooth wooden floor pushing up
Against the delicate archs of our sinewy feet,
As they drop down to meet the brisk  morning air,
That seems to coat everything revealed and left vulnerable
By the crumpled up sheets limply collapsed over the headrest,
Or the soft, steady breathing
Of someone left unstirred by the dizzying
Relay of thoughts that dance across my

Foolish mind. No one is in love, here.
The last fragment of hope
Was forgotten underneath mismatched blankets
That bear the faint scent of lavender fabric softener sheets
And something that lingers nameless beneath your presence.
The indented pillow, where you lay your head
Holds fast your hollow shape,
As if to remind us that reality is only as real
As those who are brave enough to feel it.

Time treads on and on,
Leaving us scrambling over coffee tables
And yesterdays newspaper strewn across the bedroom floor,
Blindly groping the abysmal space to find something
That isn't really there. Instead it's nestled between
The tiny slivers of our hearts,
Scattered across neon billboards and thee star hotels,
Pleading with us to acknowledge it's elusive presence
Before the world runs out of excuses,
And we're met with a big boom,

That probably will never even be felt.

You're broken down.
I understand.
For I was once like
You.

You've given up.
Been dealt your hand.
Nothing that lasts
Is true.

You've lost your way.
The North Star's faded.
Now city lights
Guide you.

You're all alone.
Inside you're head.
Feeling that death is
Overdue.

There's nothing much,
That I can say,
That wouldn't come off
Faded.

All I can do,
Is think if you.
And hope that your mind
Makes it.

Beneath the blues and greens
Your ripping at the seams
Yet your ocean eyes encompass dreams
Brimming full with hopeful gleams

In the blurred and hazy night
Darkness engulfs your sight
Dimming you wanning light
Insomnia grips you tight

As the ocean breeze beckons you forward
I subconciously surrender it all
I see how your eyes long toward
Abiding the ocean's call

"There are two kinds of things in life,
Those I hate
And those I don't care about."

She chewed the lid of her coffee cup.
Wrapped her fingers up in her sleeves.
Nervously.
Talking too fast,
As if afraid if she thought about what she said,
She would no longer to say it.

She talked about Africa.
It was one of the things she cared about
/hated.
"I don't understand how they live in such poverty, and we can just sit here drinking coffee."

Her companion asked her what she would do, if she was in their situation.

"**** myself."

She said softly.
Unaware she was whispering.

"Not that I want to **** myself now, I mean I don't care enough to do that. Besides I think I would be too afraid."

She replied, even though only silence had followed her first answer.
She turned her attention to the now tattered sleeve,
Of the cold coffee.
Looking at it as if it had all the answers in the world
Tucked between its cardboard grooves.

"I think I think too much, about not thinking"

Silence

"I mean, the more I think, the more depressed I become. But if I try to stop thinking, I become depressed that not thinking is the only way to happiness and..."

She stopped talking.
Aware that some things are better off in your head.
Probably afraid that her listener would disagree and force her to elaborate.
Afraid of what she would say.

The rest of the car ride was silent.
Full of casual small talk regarding the clouds, and how sales are always better after holidays.

She fidgeted with her sunglasses, the coffee cup still on her lap.
Her mouth remained partially open,
As if she was about to say something,
But couldn't bring herself to making any sound.

The car pulled to a stop at the mall.
She got out, hesitating for a moment,
As if to pull herself together.
She took a deep breath.
Unconscious of what she was doing.
Tossed the coffee cup to the ground.
Then walked off to join her friend.
Pretending to care.

Once I threw a rock
Into a river,
So I could watch it
Fall.
Then I left,
But the rock stayed,
And made me feel
So small.
So now I never
Go near water,
For fear of getting
Wet.
And as for the rock,
It lays there,
Drowning.
And still, I can't
Forget.

Do the seasons know they're changing
As summer fades to fall
Do the leaves notice they're fading
As the wind sounds its desperate call

Snow encompasses the sidewalk
But beneath it, remains pavement
Covered with residue of faded chalk
Vibrant before winter claimed it

Beneath the leaves of autumn
Lay withered shades of grass
Hidden and forgotten
A reminder of seasons past

Yet soon the frost will pass
As will the month of december
For time is seen through a foggy glass
Much easier to experience than remember

So paint your fields will daffodils
Crowd the dusk with light
Open up to the subtle thrills
That only know day and night

Lose yourself in the moment
Yet don't forget to remember
Life isn't merely a seasonal component
Trapped inside a perpetual ember

Time spurts and sputters
Out of my mind
Like an oozing laceration.
Warm blood dripping
From a skinned knee.
9:00 fades into
10:00 and before
You know it,
Everything's gone.

Built up by fractions of the truth
We gaze starry eyed to the future
Forgetting our youth
Constantly in movement
We tend to forget where we started
For we took flight at the first impulse
Daydreams disregarded

Effortlessly, I lose myself within You:
Forgotten, yet never quite out of reach,
Your name penetrates the thin arch of my spine,
As I curl my legs up towards my arduous chest,
Burrowing deep into the cavity that
Should hold my red, pulsing heart.

I can feel You all around me;
Memories dance like poetry,
Tumbling out of my lips into the empty air,
And, for a moment, Your warm breath
Caresses my face, as I shift toward
The unimposing wall, letting the cool plaster
Press up against my outstretched palms.

You're never more tangible,
Than when I lie in silence
And listen to the rhythmic hypocrisy
Of my own, insidious breath.
Even spoken sentences, are full of white
Spaces, in between pauses and punctuation.
Empty, and cavernous- blank canvases
Awaiting Your subtle presence.
Hungrily, words rush from me
As if to pave the way for Your fleeting occupancy.

Is this how it feels to be alive?
Father Time wraps his long, gnarled fingers
Around Your soft, golden neck,
Until all the vitality is lost beneath his sorry,
Decrepit hands, which yearn for Your being,
So much that they crush it into yesterday.
While, I sit helplessly observing, a defiled bystander,
Preparing Your eulogy while You laboriously heave for air.

Now, alone in the cool dark of my bedroom,
I repeat my penance a thousand times,
Silently, whispering a lovers remorse,
While twisting and squeezing the last drop
Of feeling onto an indifferent page,
Diluted by almost there prose
And ambiguous metaphors:

My wilted rose, I feel You now
Your once silk petals pressed upon my lips,
Hardened by all that has passed,
A frail remnant of what You once contained.
Pinks and reds of the sunset fall stagnant against
Your rosy cheeks and evanescent silhouette.  
Oh, flower of all flowers, why must You wilt
Upon my plucking of Your fleshy stem?
Is not the beauty of Your ardent life
Strong enough to flood out
The doubts which devoured Your fragrant
Body like malignant parasites?
For while time must tread along,
Can you not stay the way You once were then?

You showed me life, yet took it away
When You exhaled the world with a final leap,
Leaving me here to gather the fragments of a story,
And a vocabulary of feelings
That I can no longer sense.
So, instead, I hover motionless
Above my vacant corpse,
Filling the spaces that You left
With the skeletons of words.

My Sorry Muse, my Own Remorse
Embodied in a Soul,
You took Your  life and gave me words,
But my voice: the afflicted toll.

I cannot write about you,
Because you don't matter.
Your presence smudged across my
Pale forehead
Like the faint Thursday morning remnants
Of a lopsided cross
Painted on by a solemn parish member.

I cannot write about you,
Because you were never there.
Your words landed
Soft and heavy,
Dissolving upon my tongue
Like thin, crisp flakes
Of communion
Placed into eager outstretched hands
And wide, gaping mouths.

I cannot write about you,
Because you didn't see me.
My half whispered laments of
Despair and something close to
Heartache, burnt out
And sizzled
Amidst the constant wavering glow
Of a hundred uniform candles.

I cannot write about you,
Because there's nothing to say
That can express the emotion
Or lack thereof
That comes with closure.
The tall, ornate cathedral walls
Hold fast amidst the winds of time.
A testament to an old religion,
Forgotten and misused
By it's devoted and deluded deciples,
Who drag their weary feet
Up the tall, crumbling
Stone and frankincense stairs,
Yearning for something
More than what this poor,
Decrepit world can
Offer to their deprived hands,
Stretched out to the kingdom of God
In desperate reverence.
I cannot write about you,
Because there's nothing to say.

I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

Everyone is afraid of Pandora's box
So society fashioned a key
Had it permanently locked
Banishing the concept of freedom of thought
Opinions have to be found
In order to have been lost
There has to be sound
To proclaim the cost
Society is on a tightrope
Free will has already been dropped
Down
With the precision of an acrobat
But the composure of a clown
Cuz in all seriousness
I must confess
That to form my own thoughts
I was deemed mindless
In order to get caught
I had to surrender my address
Still I have the safety
Of four walls surrounding me
As Pandora's box fights off the currents drowning me

He had two scars on his wrists,
To remind him of the past,
And how important,
Yet fragile
Life can be.
He used to live here,
In the city,
Before he left
And headed South,
In search of something
He never really wanted to talk about.
Maybe  it was something
That wasn't really there
At all.
I remember listening to
Him talk about the possibilities
That awaited him,
I wonder if they're still out there
Waiting
Endlessly for him to come
And turn them into
Reality.
I hope they are.
Somehow, he always
Found a silver lining,
Always managed to relate
To my sorrows
While also making them
Disappear.
Now he's the one who's gone,
And the pain is still here.
Maybe he was too busy
Helping other people find their happiness,
That he lost his own,
Or maybe he finally found what he was searching for
And it was too much,
Or not enough.
I always think about
What he was thinking,
And how I couldn't tell
That something wasn't right,
Maybe it's because
I felt the same way
Too.
Except that I'm still here,
And he isn't.
Replaying all our late night conversations,
It doesn't seem quite real,
That someone who understood so much,
Could feel so alone.
Our conversations are gone now,
Lost in the no mans land of
Old text messages,
Hour long phone calls
And the past.
The only memories I have
Are too real to ever
Evaporate,
Yet even they
Couldn't escape his departure,
And now they lay there
In the deepest corners of my mind,
Tainted by his absence,
Giving a whole new meaning to
Past tense.

God is watching from beneath a department store window display:
Six floors lined head to toe with glass sheets and metal dividers,
Holding up the paper town- a city hall
Of half off summer sales.
The translucent sheets encompass the cold air conditioned empty space
That seeps in between the wheels of rolling racks, and pushes up
Against the impenetrable windows
That reflect the ash tray gray office buildings,
Looming in the backdrop
Square cubicles full of 9-5 daydreams
And lukewarm non-fat lates,
The iridescent shimmer of the dark exterior
Casts a shadow over the entire block,
Dancing in the reflection
Of a little Asian girl three floors up
Running in between the clothing racks-
Pitter pattering above the ceiling of a five star
Macy's restaurant
Packed with narrow tables and people
Alone and comfortable:
A spectacle to anyone across the street
Brave enough to look up.
Is this what the world has become?
Row after row of sorry complacency:
30% off signs and colorful adds
Drop into a diner waiting room;
The black-clad waiter paces back
And forth, oblivious that his every movement
Is being observed by someone perched on a ***** step of union square.
Safety comes in numbers,
And we forget ourselves
To the dull drone of elevator music
And neon ceiling lights projecting onto
Our downcast eyes.
Slouched against a fashionably bare
White metal chair, at a white table with white walls,
Echo the same vibrato of an asylum.
Arms bent over your head,
Brown rumpled shirt and blue jeans,
Who is watching who?
You look out of the window, just the way
The elderly man in the green vest does,
Two stories up,
The same ***** square glares back at you,
As a few teenage boys take a picture
Of the very architecture you are having
Your overpriced conversation and lunch of some sort of past.
The observer is also the observed,
And nothing goes unnoticed
Except the spectacle, itself.
Hand in hand, we carry our insecurities to the mall
And let them wander off on their own
As long as they're back by 3pm
And haven't done anything drastic
That would betray us.
Comfortability and conformity dance across the sleek walls of the Cheesecake Factory
As a homeless man drags his feet across the littered floor below,
Angrily sighing as stops and darts his eyes
Quickly scanning the moving forms within the indifferent architecture,
Before he abruptly picks up pace
And carries on.
The best view in the city:
A roof top full of anxious visitors
Who only look out over the top,
Afraid to look down and see themselves
In the reflection of the face
Of a blurred and changing crowd,
Hurrying away from now
Avoiding eye contact and fiddling with their jackets.

Nothing is real.
My heart weighs heavy with
Your misplaced sorrow
And distorted vision of
Life.
Who am I to tell you
That how your feeling is
Wrong, or unnatural
Or harmful.
The words,
Which tumble
Thoughtlessly from
My lips,
Fall into a shallow pool
Of "I love you"
And "I'm here".
But, I'm not there,
In the dark
Twisted canals of your
Volitale mind.
Ears pressed against the speaker
Of the fogged up screen of my iPhone,
I beg you not to do it.
You can't.
Not now.
It's too soon.
Something is taking it's course,
Slowly building up momentum,
Weaving in and out of the
Warped and hazy
Picture
That is your life.
Don't hide from it,
Or claw at the fabric of existence,
Trying to escape it.
Embrace it.
Nothing is real.

I've never known how it feels to be free
For my superstition has a hold on me
Hopelessly claiming both faith and religion
Aware they can't exist together within
Yet to exist isn't my goal
Afraid to surrender one, I pay the toll
Alone in my thoughts I long for more
Blindly picking up pieces of the puzzle on the floor
My biggest fear is to be defenseless
To fear is to know so I isolate my senses
If ignorance is bliss then I envy those in pain
Numb to reality I try to feel in vain
All because of a four letter word I'm afraid to say
While searching for the right words I got lost along the way
Lost in the shadows of my own thoughts
The more I try to escape, the more I get caught
Looking for a way out is hard when you can't see
Dreaming of fairy tales only distort reality
But it's hard to paint without an easel
Putting it together I feel so pieceful

Since when were reflections one sided
I try to piece it together
But my thoughts remain divided
How can perceptions exist simultaneously
When we only voice our opinions to convince others to agree
Who are we to define reality
Aside from what we see on tv
Accepting the submission
That comes without permission
When we buy into the picture
Sticking our key in the ignition
Too bad no one told us this ride was automatic
We try to listen for directions but can't hear beyond the static
That comes between our thoughts and actions
Creating security
False satisfaction
Still we claim individuality
Yet we would eagerly trade it for mortality
Death can wait
As we compress our emotions
Concentrate
We eagerly drink from society's potion
Unaware it's only a placebo
The effect is the same
As long as we don't know

Your simplicity perplexes me
As does the audacity of your thoughts
I suppose I don't have the means
To decipher your thoughts at all
However I can only imagine
The complexity in which they consist
By the way you carry yourself
As if you, yourself, are not aware
So please do allow me to enlighten you
On the premise for my evaluation
For it all begins with a premonition

Smile, darling-
No one can hear your hollow wails
when lips are closed
and turned up to the unforgiving sun.
Blackness is only a shade of light
beneath your downy mouth,
a shadow of your solitude, and nothing more.
The faint, wet glisten in your eyes
reflects the bronze and porcelain faces
looming down over your tear stained cheeks.
Frustration comes a shade too light
to be seen over the rosy red hues of laughter
sprinkled across your one dimensional grin.
Your laugh lines stretch out
until they gently brush up against the
soft white hair that frames your ears,
leaving no room for sorrow
pushed somewhere off the grid
of your proportionate composure.
*Life's clock can only tick as fast
as minutes do condense,
and happiness will never last
beyond the present tense.

Face to face with myself I look into the mirror
As my breath fogs up my reflection I begin to see clearer
For nothing is really what it seems
When reality becomes a substitution for dreams
I long to be understood but refuse to pay the cost
There's no meaning to understanding when individuality is lost
So instead I keep my thoughts in isolation
Keeping them away from society's suffocation
The eyes in the mirror see through my facade
Allowing me insight which I strive to evade
For the only person who knows me is that of my reflection
Everything else seen is but only a projection

The sound of the rain gently caresses me
As the feel on my skin wholly possesses me
Shivers dance up and down my spine
Piecing me together as my thoughts begin to align

A ray of sun
Has managed to penetrate
The dark curtains
Entering my room
Its dances along my wall
Making patterns upon my eyelids
Alone
It can be appreciated in all it's splendor
For when I pull the curtains back
It disappears
Becoming one with the beams of light
Which now surround it
The spotlight which it had cast
Is no more
It has sunk back into the shadows
Of light

Reality has a funny way
Of wrapping itself into a tiny ball
And plummeting effortlessly into
Our wide, gaping mouths
As we raise our luminous faces
To the vast and forgiving skies.
Or spinning itself outward
Into the weightless shadows
Of the wind which beats down
Upon our pale, vibrating chests,
Creating a rhythm that swoons
And capsizes with the wavering
Translucent strokes of the ocean
Upon the pure, unfiltered sand.
Life is too much with us,
As we push our weary feet
Against the all encompassing ground,
Dragging ourselves across
Stormy sidewalks covered in
Old wrapping paper and chewing gum,
Bristling park lawns
Littered with budding clover and popsicle sticks,
Smooth, linoleum floors
Full of traces of the past
Kept real by shuffling feet and 104 degree fevers.
As we continue on,
Through city streets, childhood playgrounds
And hospital waiting rooms,
We carry a little bit of the world with us,
Hidden away beneath forgotten promises
And diluted memories full of
Passionate illusions.
Time is too real to face head on,
So instead we package it up
And ship it away to the future
In the form of 99 cent greeting cards,
Faded blue jeans full of pocket lint and sentiment,
And nine to five jobs that circle endlessly until we can no longer bear it.
It's only in the dark of the night
In between warm, downy comforters
And the slow steady glow of
A dull, canary street light
That it comes to us,
Sometimes only for a moment,
Before it evaporates again
Into the mundane complacent
Lilac and honey fairy tale
Which is life.

Superstition
Clouding way of one's ambition
Providing hope with false ammunition
Fear of change
Repetition
Stay the same
Society plays into this little game
Inducing fear
By whispering in one's ear
The end is near
No time for reflection
For its the dawn
Of slavery's resurrection
Only now its our mind
Which will be bind
Products of this world
We're no better than our possessions
Longing for freedom
Yet unwilling to admit our obsession
With perfection
The mirror reveals
A hazy reflection

From the past, my heart has bounded
Into the darkness, future allowed it
To grow and thrive in a stagnant fountain
With memories and parasites soaking it, shrouded.

Until the day when words grow weary,
And passion and pain express themselves dreary,
I must continue my profitless query,
Allowing my raw, wrestless hands to steer me.

For the past has a sweet and sticky smell
Resting in the heart of it's contunuous well,
Screaming and thrashing, beckoning me to sell
My soul to myself, in this bottomless hell.

The deal has signed itself through omission,
My very existence, the rim of permission
Creating the pull of art and submission,
Filling my mind with artificial ambition.

Darkness never boasted exposure,
Instead it's wet walls comforted closure,
Repeating misguided love over and over,
For luck is for pennies and distorted clovers.

My pen, my temple, my rusty bronze chains,
My lifeline, my mother, the noose from which I hang,
My disguise, my outlet, the scrawled figures of my name.
Nothing hurts more than having to refrain.

What is life but an accumulation of fleeting moments
That are too soon banished into the realm of yesterday.
The sunset isn't prejudice towards the night,
Instead it welcomes it in all it's faded glory.
Don't get caught up in the process of thought.
Give in to all that beckons you,
For time is only relevant in retrospect.

Religion brought me tea at noon,
And taught me how to pray,
To God, and birds, and indifferent moon
That holds the world at bay.

Heaven came to me disguised,
Beneath the heavy drone,
Of millions of silent prayers,
Pleading to be left alone.

I heard the cries of anguished souls,
Lamenting their fate,
For penance costs a heavy toll
To walk the narrow and straight.

I found my heart laid out to dry
Upon the chapel floor,
As saints and sinners passed it by,
Too busy to implore.

I paid my dues at Sunday mass,
And sold my soul last June,
Because infatuation with the past
Brings even the pure to ruin.

I heard the angels singing out
A sad and passionate song,
As the world shrunk back in pious doubt,
They continued on and on.

I fell into a rabbits hole,
Full of all that isn't,
I accepted Him to make me whole,
The most righteous kind of prison.

Rescue me
If you can
Lead me forward
Take my hand
Rescue me
From my mind
Help cut the strings
By which I'm bind
Set me free
From reality
For your the only truth I need to see
Save me
For I'm falling apart
Put me back together
Take hold of my heart
I'm surrendering to the unknown
For anythings better than being alone

If the main reason to live is to progress
Then deep down I must confess
That life has lost it's luster
I digress
For there is no reward at the end of each breath
As life is tempted by death
For if perfection is the common goal
Then in pieces I must surrender my soul
The only option would be to resign
As the clock slowly ticks
I edge closer to the line
For sanity is not measured by statistics
The ideal way of living is hardly realistic
And if to be mature is to live humbly for a cause
Then life's aim is to ****** and store in a box
All that is left of common sense
Cuz nothing matters except the present tense
I don't want to die for a cause that I do not believe in
Yet to live for it would be as much of a grievance
My freedom was stolen by structure
Built to to prevent treason
People who rebel do so selfishly
Yet those who conform, do so helplessly
In a world of two evils, I must chose my reality
Improvement
Sparks the flame in society's movement
Happiness is governed by what we can produce
By failing to see the relevance
I've tied my own noose
Life is a battle that can not be conquered through defeat
The only way out is achieved through retreat

Thick green trees surround the powerful river,
It's current pulls me forward as small, smooth pebbles lap at my toes.
Somewhere in the background, children are shrieking with summertime bliss,
Making loud splashes into the crisp, cool water
From the wavering branch belonging to an ancient tree.
As I wade forward, warm brown mud oozes between my toes,
Unleashing a murky film around my perimeter.
The sun relentlessly bears down on me,
Calling out to my budding freckles beneath my olive skin.
Sweat droplets begin to form around my brow,
Sweetly trickling down my jaw and mixing with my river-wet body.
I close my eyes as the warmth encompasses my being,
It's as if I'm given a single bucket and told to fill it with all the wonders of the river-
I can't.
Then splash- it all comes flooding back to me,
Drowning me, filling my lungs with your presence.
I wasn't expecting you here,
Amidst the laughing children and the current.
It hurts too much to think of you, but it's impossible to let you go,
Not now.

Every moment, we are wasting away-
Our poor, dejected ambitions
Float empty
Atop a sea of partially sane intentions
Kept by a god
With a pension for deceit.
Tick tock,
Crazy never comes on time-
And three sneezes mean an unsuspected
Guest. Dilapidated hours
Wear thin
As they desperately reach to cover
The long, convoluted skeleton
Of youth.
Remnants of the past prevail,
Buried deep beneath
Cedar floors and $50 graveyard slots,
In all it's half attainable glory,
Strewn out across
A marble coffin,
Like heavy dice
Waiting to tumble down
Into reality.
The old bell tower,
Cracks and screeches
Her unrequited laments
To the indifferent sky-
Every evening at 5:01.
With each hollow ring,
Age seeps through our pores,
Mixing in and diluting our dreams,
Sinking down into the deepest crevice of our
Contorted being. Tick
Tock, time can only dance if there's a rhythm:
The beating of our hearts
Sounds on, vibrating off
The hollow cavity
Which should hold something
Living. Nothing's real here,
As our insignificant lives
Race each other down the dim and slippery
Hallway that is life.
Until sooner or later,
One by one,
We all lose our footing
And fall down the rabbits hole
To meet something like
Death- the only evidence that we were ever
Alive.
Hour hands reach out from their miniature sphere:
A cyclical world full of half past ten
And white empty spaces between
Vacant numbers,
Grasping our warm
Pulsing bodies,
And pulling us closer
Towards something almost like The End-

Tick tock,
Russian Roulette is only lucky
Until it's over.

Back against the wall
I thought I knew it all
Made too close a call
Now its my turn to fall
Down
To a place I need not mention
At a loss for words to define my own invention
I've built up my prison with my own hands
Now I watch it crumble
Turn to sand
As the pebbles erode into dust
My chains deteriorate
Turning to rust

life is like a painting with water colors
as soon as i get an end result emotions start to run into eachother
things dont always appear how they seem
it's as if the chaos on the canvas is nothing but a dream
as i dip my brush into the paint, reality sinks in
everything swirls together, no longer kept within
i'm afraid to define anything and set it in stone
for if my emotions do change, my definitions will be left alone
vibrant colors turn to black
i stand on the edge, holding nothing back
swaying back and forth there are times i almost fall
taking a step forward, even if it means risking it all
as the colors collide so do day dreams and reality
fogging up my eyes, allowing me to see clearly
the strokes of paint are forever shifting and distorted
as i take it all in, i see my slef portrait

Your all the same
In order to blend in
You surrendered your brain
Unable to attach any emotion to pain
Going through life with a common aim
Yeah your agreeable
So is everyone else
When opinions are vacant
And hidden on a shelf
Far away from conversation
Your thoughts escaped
Call it desperate evacuation
So alone and trapped you give up the fight
Surrendering yourself
Along with your rights
Yeah your driven
By a common goal
Inclined to give in
Together you are whole
Alone you nothing
Aside from yourself
Yet who are you without anyone else
Eyes set on perfection
You **** your soul
Skipping the resurrection
Unable to make any connection
Between your mind
And the social setup by which your bind
Your burden was too heavy
So you left it behind
Yet still you long for what you once knew
In a world of falsehoods there is a hint of what's true
Calling
Beckoning
Enticing you
Unaware of how to achieve it
You set out to deceive it
Convince it you don't believe it
While getting close enough to breathe it
Still afraid to break out of your shell
Afraid of heaven you take refuge in hell
You have no means of being substantial
Your reality check was declined
But you only see the debt as financial
So please understand that you can't comprehend
The reality of thought
So keep calling it pretend
Just don't try to understand me
Because your petty words can't brand me
And no matter what you do
Without insight you will never see
Past the curtain
Separating you from me

Shattered
What's left of me
Broken
Doesn't fit the empty piece
Crushed
That's missing from the puzzle called belief
Apart
Trying to bridge the gap from whole to incomplete
Empty
Hopelessly striving to conquer defeat

Intelligence has evadade you
As you allow what you think you want to slowly degrade your views,
Nothing that fades away can ever be true,
For even the old used to be new.

What do you look for in love: nice assets and a face you can trust,
Becuse anything sparkles when it's covered in rust.
Sentiment and intellect were devoured by lust,
And the only way to the top is made up of dust.

Social scenes and social queens
Require more costume than Halloween.
Who wants to be stuck at seventeen?
If you're not surrounded by faces, who will hear you scream?

You engrave your expectations on the palm of your hands,
Open them up to God, and plead for romance.
For prayers only function as a form of demands
That look no further than tomorrow nights plans.

Who you know and how you're perceived,
Cascades and tumbles down over your beliefs.
Temptation wasn't as easy for Adam and Eve;
Their apple held more than your money trees.

Now there's nothing left but a rotten core,
And casual small talk spilled out upon the floor,
Seeping in and out of the wooden pores,
Across scattered feet, too numb to implore.

Afraid of the concept of being alone,
You only accept what is already known,
Living for the weekend so your efforts are atoned,
Like David and Goliath, you have to stone or get ******.

Bloodshot eyes and vacant stares, too deliberate not to go anywhere,
Because sentiment means nothing to a generation who doesn't care
About anything that holds less weight than the air,
Unless it's about what you should wear.

So bottle up your empty dreams and aspirations,
Throw them to sea: an intellectual evacuation,
You'll see more like them under medication,
Because fitting in requires social sedation.

our world is strung together by vanity
held up by they raptures of insanity
at any moment it could tumble down
leaving behind the faded of a cloud
of dust
built up by mistrust
torn down by the realization
that we are a broken nation
hiding in the shadows of our corrupt sanction
watching with a distorted sight
becoming blind as we see the light
turning away as the walls deteriorate
triggered by our impule to differentiate
untill all that we know is lost in oblivion
leaving us alone with our heart's broken rythm
for a moment it stops
the zig zags take a leap of faith and drop
but our individuality kicks in
acting as a reviver
its safe to say
we are society's survivers

She took the train for the first time
To go spend a few weeks with her daddy
In the summer before she started second grade.
Her suitcase had pink light up wheels on it
And was full of her best summer dresses and pictures
She drew with his name scrawled on the back.
She cried at the station because she didn't want to go,
And slept the whole way there.

She took the train again, in high school
Accompanied by a group of friends
Going to the city for the weekend to see a baseball game.
She didn't bring any luggage,
But came back with arms full of plastic shopping bags.
She cried because her mother didn't understand
That 16 is too old for a curfew,
And smoked cigarettes the whole way there.

She took the train, once more,
Her freshman year of college.
She went to visit her best friend at school.
Her duffle bag was full of flimsy bikinis and Sartre.
She didn't cry this time, until on her way back
When she realized that something had been lost somewhere along the way,
And that she was too old now to ever know what it was.

She took the train, again, for the last time.
The summer before her second year of college;
She said she wasn't going anywhere in particular.
She bought a ticket for Sacramento, and left it in the car.
This time, her suitcase was full of heavy rocks,
And made her tilt a little to the left as she dragged it down the ramp.
She began to cry at the station, for the death of someone she used to know.
And, seconds before the train left,
She flung herself onto the rusted tracks,
Leaving behind nothing
Except a couple of ticket stubs and a poem titled "Somewhere".

The ocean taught me how to pray

But did it cure your lust? For souls and statues full of things that bring even the pure to rust.

Her heavy waves caressed my feet, and brought my mind to bay

Ah, but there is something to be said about the sandy ground, that seeps and pulls beneath your toes, dragging the world round.

I thought I felt more for a moment, than ever the poor can plead

Did you turn your back to the gravel roads that paved your heart so true?

Only until my palms did freeze- stuck open in their greed

*Then let me ask you this, my dear, is heaven for the blue?
Did Posideon's cleaver hand articulate all that's known as true?
Or was it choice and choice alone that unearthed the pearly gate?
For ocean waves drown out the fate that so encompasses you.

Suicide seeps loosely from your lips-
Leviticus could only carry so much
Weight before the heavy words
Laden with your December-white
Morals and twice baked ideals,
Dragged him down to live with the lepers.
Sputtering out half delusional
Laments to your ever present savior,
Your words drip over the crisp white
Lines, creating muddled phrases
That you eagerly inhale
Off the top of porcelain toilet seats and cedar pews,
Because self loathing is natural
When repeating the mantra:
Only sinners can be saved.
Your frail arms, bent and convoluted over
Your tense and righteous face, inadvertently
Form the sign of a cross,
Casting a shadow on the sharp corners
Of your thin, puckered lips.
Sacrifice and repentance chase your vulnerable mind
Right off the deep end, and into the 3am abyss in which
You are perpetually present.
As you speak, your eyes catch glow
Of the searing flames that taunt your every thought,
Like embers, alive with the hot, igniting presence of the past,
They search and scan my face,
As if begging to be understood
In a language made up of truths
That only float
When they're dead.

Prove me wrong
Contradict my convictions
Take me beliefs
Destroy them with your predictions
Gather my facts
And reduce them to fiction
Nothing is ever set in stone
Opinions are irrelevant if they exist alone
Nothing is anything if it remains unknown
So drag me into your perspective
Cuz the meaning of life is completely subjective
I don't want you to agree with my thoughts
For submission is weakness
Enter my mind at the risk of being caught
So don't get entangled in my emotion
For there's no antidote to this vile potion
Your fate will be sealed as you look through my eyes
Realizing then, that I see through your lies

It's easy
To stay inside
When you're
Busy
Getting lost
Within
Your silly
Mind.

Fear fabricates factious fragments,
futile for fulfilling faded fantasy's forlorn figures.
Few find faith from forecful feelings..
farewell forces fugitive faces-
forging faulty formality,
finesse fights failure for fame,
fortifying forgotten promises.

When I discovered I had cancer,
I was told that I would learn a lot
About Life and Death and Time,
But I never thought that I would
Discover what it means
To be intimate
With strangers,
Or anyone, for that matter.

When my insides were cut open like a game of operation,
I told myself:
Be detached.
When visitors came,
We talked about the weather.

When I arrived home, I spent my time
Trying to forget
The experience
Of impermanence
And shared emotions
That I couldn't even grapple with
Myself.

When the person I loved
Left me
I flinched
And then sunk back into an abyss of
Emotionless functioning,
Cutting myself further and further
Off from my narrative
Of pain.

When it was time to go back to school,
I flinched
And signed up for a workload
Heavy enough
To push out the fading reality
Of my condition.

It wasn't until I was sitting on the steps
Outside of a bar that was slowly beginning
To empty out,
As intoxicated shadows gained substance and lit cigarettes against the brick wall.
I sunk down next to friend I had recently met-
My big t shirt inched up above my abdomen
And the lower jagged mark of my scar
Peeked out-

I didn't choose to tell him my story
Until he asked me about the obvious
Stale incison mark that had a presence
Of its own.
Piece by piece, it peeled itself from off my stomach
And liquified into a sequence of events
And feelings
That poured from me
Like a stream of bubbling bath water
Overflowing from the rim
Of a porcelain tub.

That's when I realized that there is something shared and intimate about scars:
Marred reminders of the flesh
That speak to our upmost human
Encounters with our own mortality.
An indecipherable label of sorts:
An unsigned invitation into the taboo.

In a moment of unintentional word *****
At 2am to a stranger,
I regained my intimacy with myself
And my journey.
I learned that while Life and Death and Time
Will always plague our existence,
They distance us from the human experience that is
To feel:

To feel everything in this God forsaken world.
To feel angry at people for leaving when they should have stayed.
To feel compassion at the same time.
To feel intimacy with others.
To feel intimacy with yourself.
To feel love.
To feel pain.
To feel the cold creases in the wooden floor as you make your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
To feel alone.
To feel surrounded.
To feel the trembling echoes of the past and be able to grab its elusive coattails and shake away the dusty remnants of time and shout that you are present.

To feel nothing.