Can you, can you,
keep the devils at bay?

You can't, you can't,
they like to play.

Play with the membranes of your tired mind,
and whisper seductive, tentative lies.

They talk to you like they are your friend.
Yet they feed on your insides, they welcome your end.

Wanting nothing more than to see your undoing.
Giddy with power at this mess they are brewing.

You fight, and you claw, and you bleed through your eyes,
but still they persuade you with lustrous chimes.

You stitch up your mouth, and bleed out the truth.
You've wasted away your eternal youth.

And even if you give into their sin,
They'll just find a different way to begin.

If you keep looking, still you will find,
the devils, the devils, the devils inside.

She looks like a bad idea I'd like to try for one night.

She looks a danger,
she looks a delight.

Dark bar, long legs, open notebook.

I should have seen
what you were doing.

I'm guessing you wanted
me to kiss you.

I would have let you touch my hair,
but you were calling him
daddy.

Maybe we will cross paths again.

Or maybe not, sadly.

Or you might inspire the best
lesbian romance.

Or maybe,

you were just a chance
encounter.

Your move,
artist with sad eyes.

Your move,
towards me, towards sunrise.

Your move,

mystery girl.

It was car rides,

lots of car rides.

Going to school in a small town required a lot of travelling.

She was my best friends big sisters best friend.

And she offered to drive me to school for a semester.

We'll call her D.

D taught me a lot of things that I still remember to this day.

Keep in mind this was almost ten years ago now.

She showed me music,
she kept me in line,
and one day she brought me fresh baked cookies for breakfast.

"Sorry I'm late! I was making you these!!"

Needless to say she was awesome.

But one day, when lamenting about the phantom that haunts this blog,

She told me about the dimmer theory.

Foolishness
can only lead to
more foolishness.

You draw the card of the clown,
the card of the fool,
the jester.

Thinking about things that do not matter.

And dreaming of useless banter.

Fog in the windows,
isn't always romantic.

Hand on hand,
after school hugs,
dancing in rain,
flipping of thugs.

Anonymous locker love notes
you kept in a box,
driving past your house,
and always having to stop.

We rode in a horse drawn carriage
at this time of year.

Autumn will always be close to me,
and make me feel close to you.

You, frequent writer frequent soul.
******* lover ******* roll.

Gentle as the night touches you,
memories upon memories.

The fragmentations of reality and dreamscape blend.

How do I mend.

What was once scratches on paper, becomes public.

What was once teenage hood infatuation becomes stoic.

There are moments I forget who I am,

and then I remember.

I used to write better poetry.

** took that from me when she took my heart.

I feel the fog coming in.

Disassociating, disassociating.

I forget what it feels like to be truly happy.

No, that isn't right...

I forget what it feels like to feel, all right.

100% alright, okay.

It's been a constant battle for the past, forever.

Dealing with the demons at my doorstep.

I get better, I get worse, hit rock bottom, empty purse.

I get worse I get better,

I get numb.

Numb is how I can best describe it.

When I look in the mirror I don't even see me.

I see a skull with baggy eyes.

I see a face without a mind.

I'm not sure which direction I am going in.

I have everything I ever wanted,

more or less.

I have a roof over my head, I have a pet, I have a girl.

Can someone tell my mental health that?

I have finally realized why I have never felt pretty.

It is because, because...

I have dated several people who have called me beautiful.

But I could never understand why they would say that.

I assumed it was a formality.

For years, and years, some people have been attracted to me.

And I didn't know why.

Now that I am finally living in my correct sexuality.

With a fiance soon to be wife.

I am starting to understand.

She calls me beautiful, and pretty.

And doesn't under stand why I don't agree.

And it's because I never see anyone who looks like me.

So mixed, mixed salad.

Darkish skin, asian eyes, trini lips trini hips, white something? I don't know.

I look like nothing anyone has ever known.

My hair is both Trini, white, asian, and whatever else is peppered into who I am.

I am an almost complete puzzle of races.

I think only I can fully grasp that.