There is an aching in my being,
When I see the look in your eyes.
If you were conscious,
there could be
so much more joy here.

But we're not liberated
by youth and hope.
You're ******* on ideas,
and I'm tied to my heart.
You can't see past my eyes,
The chambers I keep hidden.

My heart drums to the rhythm
Of your lonely, hurting desires.
You're craving love.
My heart's only drug:
Falling always for the broken one.

But I can't fix you.
I am not your exception.
Though I feel everything all at once,
with emotions not at all small,
I cannot bring comfort to your inner war.

When the day is done for the infantry,
they bow their heads and take a knee,
they clasp their hands and start to pray,
that they may live another day,
should a challenge for them ever arise,
they would proudly meet it with open eyes,
soldiers fight with the honor and pride,
moving any and all fear to the side,
a soldier's family and freedom is his core,
for wanting to ever fight a war.

She helped me when I was entangled in the thorns of the dreaded disease,

But it has come back to take away her peace.

I stare at each picture, bathing suit clad,
And see nothing but the evil monster, grinning and mad.

Because when I look at those photos I see nothing but the disorder

The internal torment, anguish, self-battering thoughts
That cause your self confidence and self worth to rot

That ***** and **** at each slight imperfection
That promise to point you in the proper direction

That monster, so sly, so cunning, so persuasive
But also terribly, horribly invasive

For if you let your guard down after the first fight
It will come back to prove its might

This monster can’t be killed from a therapy session
This form of attack only diminishes its aggression

But the monster lays waiting in the dark
And takes advantage of any self deprecating spark
Until it can attack like a mighty white shark.

This monster tries to take the lives of many.

Including my own.

But I will not let it destroy the friends close to my heart
The monster’s reappearance signals me to do my part

To slay the beast, relentlessly work till it’s dead
Otherwise all it takes is a self critical thought to be fed

A comparison, picture, reminder of its deceiving phrases
Fighting this monster is the only way to cure the hazes

One born every minute is the order of the day
Everyday brings with it blessings and curses
The arrival of the new one can be a blessing
Yet it may be a curse for the newbie

What does the world have in store for us
The struggle doesn't stop
For life is rigged with constant ups and downs
New hopes and aspirations dashed
Dreams turn into nightmares

What did we do wrong
It seems like a merry go round
Yesterday solutions are today's problems
It's a game of cat and mouse
Catch me if you can!
When will this stop

A bell tolled
through the fog at dusk
to summon passage
across the roiling waters.

Through the mist
a ferry appeared
but not the same as called -
afoul with death and sorrow.

With dread our forefathers
boarded ship and listened through
that storm filled crossing
to howling wind sung requiems
echoing from distant fields at
Manassus - Shiloh - Gettysburg.

When the gales had spent their fury
they disembarked in a new land
with both far less and more
than they left on the opposite shore.

*March, 2008

The stranger in the lavatory mirror
puts on a public grin, repeats our name
but scrupulously reflects the usual terror.
        -“TALE OF A TUB”, SYLVIA PLATH

But I, incompetent fool of mortality,
have appeared in the mirror as nothing
but stretched skin and pained bones
with diluted features robbed
from ancestors before me. Ah,
the recognition of prior greats; it
strikes me in the soul, knowing
that I will never live to the expectations
held before me, dangled above me
like raw, dripping veal over the unfed
lioness of my heart, plucked away one by one
like grapes being fed to Caesar. Appropriate,
perhaps; the phrase of “Et tu, Brute?”
slips from my disarmed lips far too often.

A world of nothing sacred leaves me
lost in the swirling cyclone of cracked glass,
where fighting only brings deep, jagged
lacerations of mind and body
with struggling glances of withered reflection,
of girl battling demons upon demons
on the brink of crippling surrender.
Bonded to this body of paper and lead,
but filled with notions of ink and poison,
the sight has become an old friend, breaking
through the fogged haze of glorified reality.

Brace me against the past, dear
strength, I ask of you, and allow me
to plunge beyond this frosted pane,
to shatter the veil of uncertainty in a manner
to be immortalized for generations of dust
to see, to believe, to trust more than the
painted smile dancing upon my haunted lips
in the belligerent light of the medicine cabinet’s bulbs.

I try to fit in,
I try to believe,
That maybe someday,
They’ll like me better,
Than I like me.
It’s a constant battle,
A fight I can’t resist,
To put myself down before others,
Oh why do I persist?

I’ve been bullied,
I’ve been shunned,
This I can’t forget.
It hurts deep down inside,
So it is myself that I subject.

Why is it that,
When I want to make friends,
All these memories,
Come flooding back to me again?

I thought after all these years,
After all this time,
I had found,
That bright burning light.
I guess it isn’t so,
But maybe it is,
Confusion engulfs me,
Just as sadness did.