I hear, there is no caring just lingering thoughts
Of what it's believed to never have been
Still your demons awakened my own
As i fulfilled my promise to give you all that i could

The evil surfaced in acid burns on the soul,
Your sulfur dragons born of barren dreams
Spewed fire that licked my flesh clean
And as you consumed the charred bits of my essence
I experienced the kind of freedom
Birthed in a place I never wanted to be

Relinquishing so much of my past, my pain
To have you grow stronger
As I dig my nails into my own flesh
To crawl out of the shadows I, myself, created

And I hear your gentle voice whisper vile commands
The hint of an evil smile as I dutifully acquiesce
Claimed in the darkness found in the corners of daylight
I kept my promise
And you claimed me
Mind, body, and soul

When my demons were quelled
As you slay them
As you bashed them into submission
My knight, in empty armor
My heart, now unbound, became full

Perhaps you believed that my heart would feed your own
But your heart turned to ash
The last time it loved
Still, your monsters were hungry
And my heart was full

You held me in the darkness
Your hand in mine
Keeping my sadness company
Turning friendship into love
'Tis who you are,
Who you hate yourself for being

In that place where your sweetness flows,
Where there is no doubt that you care
Your monsters ate my heart
Consuming chunks of my emotion
And I, having an abundance,
Was grateful for the chance to feed you

But my heart, now full of holes
Still mocked you in its ability to smile
So, you kissed me and held my heart once again
So I  would not drown in my own fear

And I gave you what you always wanted
Mind, body, heart, and soul

And there you were
All the while disgusted
That my promises
Don't feel like your reality
That my heart is more sweet than savory
And that my demons lie dormant
While yours are ravenous
Looking for new prey

The holes in my heart smolder
As I feel that familiar burn
The burn of the birth of new demons

"I have turned around twice with my eyes sealed
and the woods were white and my night mind
Saw such strange happenings, untold and unreal
And opening my eyes, I am afraid of course
to look-this inward look that society scorns
Still, I search these woods and find nothing worse
Than myself, caught between the grapes and thorns."
Anne Sexton, Kind Sir-These Woods

Examine the looking glass
And confront the sleep-deprived coward,
Who wastes away his hours
In a forsaken tower.

Uncomfortably sporting skin I deprecate,
The skin of a hypocrite I've endeavored to escape.
Hankering for an empathetic reader to
Not pass these words by,
Because by circumstance, they can relate.

What state of mind would an artist
Be in without an audience?

One that is unfulfilled, starving, and jarring,
His or her work habitually
Unnoticed in enveloped darkness,
Then discovered a millennium later
Like a caveman's carvings.

But I am hardly an artist,
And that which is inducing your eyes
To sway left to right is not worthy
Enough to be classified as a work of art.
I am certain my mediocrity has worsened thus far,
Or it may be that I'm simply playing a card.

Either way, I would not blame
The aforementioned, hypothetical reader
For not making it this far.
My apologies, the blueprint I had in mind,
In the process of writing,
Became unintelligibly marred,
Like an optimistic womb-man
Relinquishing a newborn
From her blood-splattered ******.

A month or two ago, my oldest brother Tay
Directed a question towards me.
He inquired as to whether or not I loved myself.
I was ashamed to give him an earnest answer.
Yes I could have lied, but a lie only does so much concealing....
I have said too much already,
And I realize what you're reading is much too revealing,
Loathsome and lonesome as I am...

For Anna, poetry was primarily
A psychological exorcism of inner demons,
And for me it's the same.
I also throw parties for them,
Which are organized by someone very close to me,
He goes by Pity.

It's possible that he has inspired
The spontaneous, salty droplets of water
Emerging from my eyes while I sleep,
Explaining why I've occasionally awoken with damp cheeks.
His most cherished companion is a former Christian
Hell-bent on personal redemption.
It's quite easy to see how my interdependent desires,
Thoughts, and actions are in continual contradiction.

I dabbled in a taboo I'd never thought I'd stoop to,
And consequently I'm confronted with
The stigma I've been reduced to.
I pursued a thrill until it
Transformed into an obsession,
Now I glance at the looking glass,
Unable to bear my own presence.



Originally written in 2013
Revised in 2014


(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Time to say :

         "It's become too much
          It's time to move it on
          I've been here way too long
          Enough now is enough"

Time to set my sights :

         "On where I need to be
          On the things I've got to do
          On the inner fuel that
          Drives my soul to free"

Time to set my sails :

         "And cross that sea
          To my island Paradise
          To stand on the sands and shore
          I will , I will , I will , be free