it is what you most fear, your reoccurring nightmare, the thing you can not grasp, understand, that shorts your brain, that death is the end, there is no after life, no purpose to your existence, no just god sitting on a throne, dispensing justice, punishing the evil, rewarding the good. reality is too hard and harsh, you pray to god, is it true, you are more my creation than i am yours.

how do you reconcile the fact that you know so deep down inside is true. you lie to yourself, suppress the fear, repress the thoughts, ignore what you see with you own eyes. the fear rises, the anxiety worsens, the insomnia lengthens, you fall prey to cognitive dissonance. to understand is to forgive, the anger, the irrational behavior.

the idea that you are mortal is unbearable, that you will die, your flesh rot, and be forgotten. how any man can make sense of it and live, court, marry, have children, when the world has spun out of control, the three horses are here. the pale horse is coming, it will soon be time to die.

Murmurs on pillow
throbbing at temples
made of steel
by now.

Hear me out
I said
holding signs
visible to me
and to me
alone.

But silence
is a temptation I can’t resist
as the body trembles
at full throttle
to the beats of innocence

or is it
cognitive dissonance?

It’s easy for anyone to associate harmony with music.
I’m no exception.
I’ve been an alto since I learned how to sing,
Dedicating the past seven years to rhythmic consonance.
That’s not the case for what’s in my heart.
In fact, the past seven years,
I’ve felt at constant war with myself.
Ironic, coming from a pacifist.
I can’t love my neighbor as myself,
If I’ve never known that feeling.
I’ve been taught to despise
Every one of my imperfections,
Learned how to hide my flaws;
Nothing but perfection was accepted.
None of my friends know the depth of sadness,
The dark in my heart,
Or the intensity of my rage.
I don’t know who I am,
Or who I want to be.
Nothing about my emotional state
Sings like a four-part harmony.
Nothing goes together,
It’s all a mess,
Pointlessly swept under the carpet
And I hope against hope
No one is smart enough to look underneath.
I can’t write about peace
If I never seem to relax.
I can’t pretend I’m alright
When I stress over everything.
I’ve never known harmony
Outside of sheet music,
And I’m terrified I never will.

Just hours since I learned of the great fall
my childhood enemy has taken.
My heart is shaken in internal squall.
Yet still, there is joy which I partake in

Why feel guilt at such a time, so long sought?
When others still roam the alleys of night;
our nightmare meetings still frequent and fraught.
The terror still real in the broad daylight.

I have been, largely, where she has now stood.
I have ground teeth on the obloquy.
I can’t rejoice now, though I wish I could
**** this infernal anisotropy!

And yet anger smolders at the pylons;
burning bridges and lashing at icons.

Five of us sit together
Four are boys
Three are gamers
Two are sick
One is me

Missed a step of the stepping stool
smacked the sidewalk with my face
felt like a blithering fool
what happened to my grace

First parched earth of drought
now we’re so soaked with rain
the birdseed’s begun to sprout
dare I holler or complain

I think I need a change of scene
boredom cries for the next valley over
to smell the new scent of green
hear honey bees buzzing clover

They say hearing voices like yours
can be soothing and cozy
but too much harmony bores
and I think a little stink can be rosy

Living life in extremes
isn’t for me and isn’t sound
maybe it’s about stretching the seams
but not to be unbound

I don’t know if balance is my fate
Yes, equilibrium has its uses
but I like a tune that syncopates
and enough spice to excite the juices.

I seethe within what echoes disdain for all things wanting, because I can't seem to keep what's there to begin with

The desire to purge prior prose and start from scratch beseeches my mind to scrawl what dire nuance calls my name, but I don't look it in the eyes

It's my demon; my voice that resonates deep within; the call of all things mired by fate-less whispers of what's more, or right

But I know, it can't be how I desire. What can be will only come when time sets right the means to seek it out; to reach for whatever may be reaching back at me

I can't move forward unless I know for certain what's there would not bring more desolation. I am a coward, but am I human? I ask myself that every waking moment

I crave nothing more than to be normalized and reverberate with twining string of fate that actually calls my name, not the sour tones of dissonance and disdain as before

I crave reality to be my own, rather than reality to own everything I can not

I seek, eternally.. I find nothing but light that touches the surface, but never does the sun actually rise.

Bring me to my own horizon, bring me fate, bring me peace..

I hope..

There are good death
And there are bad ways over
Mundane or momentous
Closure is a pain bipolar

To lovers, family, friends
Or old habits and memories
Our hearts of roller coasters
Point always the longest ways

At night, the city bursts like a still life of a firework,
on the ground with the fun people walking all over her.