Digging
Ditches
In my
Mind
Trying
          To
              Bury
                   The
                          P
                             A
                                 S
                                    T
                                   .......

No, I'm not fine.
Please stop asking.

No, I'm not lying.
Please stop crying.

No, I am caring.
Please stop judging.

Yes, I do still cut.
Please stop searching for them.

Yes, I do still try to hide the pain.
Please stop thinking I'm weak.

Yes, I am still breathing.
Please stop reminding me.

I still do many things I shouldn't.
I'm sorry.
Please leave, everyone is better
without me.

I'm in the dark
losing my sight.
I've tried so hard
to find the light.
but the black that engulfs me
keeps pulling me deeper.
whispering in my ear,
to become someone weaker.

Ring your arms
Around my neck
And call me
“dead”
Because that
Is what I am.
Pain is love, like a
Room full of broken
Mirrors
Single mirror stands
Reflecting what is
True.

It was like his hands tickling her were two children playing in the woods, squealing and full of laughter. All around her body the hands played. Until One reached the breast and the Other the hip. There these two children paused in an instant of Steven Spielberg movie magic. You know, those ones where the characters are stopped in their tracks, jaws wide open, and then the camera pans up and out and your eyes are feasting on something beyond your wildest dreams? And the world is filled with awe and wonder? But a brief moment it was and swiftly the hands lost their innocence and transformed into experienced and passionate lovers. Her then squeals of laughter halted into a gasp that be and rumbling moans of pleasure. And that is what she loved about him...them. These swirling moments of childhood and adult experience. They kept her both young and wise.

To understand me, one has to go deeper than the surface.
On the outside, I’m glass half full but on the inside it’s completely empty.
On the outside there is a warm rain with the sun just over the horizon.
Inside it rains cold crimson drops with the smell of iron in the air.
On the outside, smiles grace those around me causing mutual happiness all around.
Inside sneers and jeers are thrown at me from all angle, cursing my name.
On the outside I'm some popular kid who has friends.
Inside It’s me with the spare real friend or two comforting the empty inside that’s left.
On the outside, I manage to mutter the phrase “I’m fine” to those who care.
Inside I’m dying and alone but I refuse to allow anyone to worry about me.
On the outside, I seem like a ball of confidence with no fears.
Inside I’m a shut in who can’t stand to see the light of day, yet I punish myself for missing it.
On the outside I’m happy with myself.
Inside I hate who I am, physically and mentally I despise myself.
Why would I hide such a reality?
Behind a dreamlike state where no one can even recognize, let alone find, the real me,
If I ever needed help.
No one could reach me behind the pile of lies i throw, just to “protect” myself?
Protect myself from what?
Those outside who only want to help?
Meanwhile I’m alone inside dying screaming “I’m not fine. Dear god, I’m not fine.”
No one can hear.
No one can see.
No one can do anything to help.
Why won’t anyone go deeper?
But it’s no one else’s fault but my own
How can I expect someone to go deeper, when I lock up anything past the surface?

See, it’s more of a… hypnosis,
A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it.
Like a whisk into a different parallel world
Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact,
kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor.
Not just any ballroom floor though.
No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night
a masterpiece that cannot be replicated,
and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement
I wish to step there.

However, I am a tad ungraceful
and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers.
So I might just impersonate one
and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes
hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement
of this hypnotic, starry world.

Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss
With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets
Looking for something, anything,
to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late,
Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate.

But, if you want, you can accompany me
and we can scuba dive together
into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder
And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis.
And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty
and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something?
With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty
but we have to open it
because that’s the secret in the treasure.
To open it.
And the contents are the spoils.
*Open it.