Today I see your flawless scheme
That gives us lasting lives
Upon the future people's Dreams
Who could not ever thrive.
Your palace gates, afilled beyond—
With polished medals' shine.
At such a rate, the crowds have spawned,
To Worship; 'looking fine!
Our works enlighten Reimann’s works
And his hypothesis.
Our words compared to Shakespeare’s words
All through apocalypse.
But once, I thought that you're not here,
And left your Biggest fan.
That now, I can't escape my fear,
'Cause you're my Only plan.
As I walked myself back to my car
I watched his back retreat into his house.
The thought that continually raced through my mind was
"I blew it."
And contrary to the smile on my face,
it wasn't in the fun way.
The truth was that I'd blown it because I hadn't blown it.
While I was flirting over cheese and bread,
he was just waiting for me to give him head.
As we split a bottle of Brandy,
it was all in the hopes of getting a quick handy.
As I was trying to get him to open up,
he was trying to get me to open up.
I knew later, I'd lay in bed.
My shaky breaths coming in deep,
wondering if it was all of them
But for now, I was content
with the fact that I'd be alone this summer
just because I wouldn't give a hummer.
No amount of distance
could get me away
from the other part of me
begging me to stay.
I'm teetering on the edge,
I'm sinking into the depths.
I couldn't live my life
all the things that keep me awake,
the days that haven't yet passed.
I've got this sickening feeling
that my downfall will happen fast.
When I least expect it
I'll meet again with my past.
He'll spit in my face
and disrespect my name.
He'll grab me by the shirt
and expose this awful little game.
I'll lose control and hit the bottom
and I'll never be the same.
I've fallen from the place I used to be.
I've become a blurry version of my name.
I've tortured myself countless nights,
hoping this all wasn't in vain.
Do the most successful
suffer the most
or do the most hopeful
open themselves up for attack?
Can't you see that I
I cannot move forward,
that's why I look back.
No amount of distance
could get me away.
I'm in an unfamiliar room
with these words surrounding.
Clouding my mind,
altering who I could be.
I couldn't live my life
with fear taking over
every fiber of me.
I'm inside, I cannot get outside.
That's where all the people are.
The ones who can change my life.
I can't do a thing with this now.
I have nothing called power.
I've scratched and clawed all the way here
and I still can't change a single thing.
My hand held out...
...to guard your back
When your friendships lacked
...to give money or supplies
When you couldn't survive
...to hold your hand
When you needed support
...to give you a hug
When you needed love
...to high five yours
At all of your endeavors
...to pat on your back
When you succeeded this or that
...to throw a thumbs-up
Because you never gave up
My hand held out...
...to cover my eyes
Through all of the lies
...to hide evidence
When you lacked common sense
...to understand the unreal
Amounts of items you'd steal
...to my chin to stipulate
The way you'd manipulate
...to cover my heart and divert
From your stories that hurt.
I could do this when I had two hands.
I could juggle these separate demands.
My dominant hand is limp now.
The tasks I take on are now simple.
I can only do one thing at a time.
Like, write out this single line rhyme.
When you see my hand out...
...from utter desperation
Please don't tabulate your accommodation
...remember I never asked before my disability
That you had previously admired my stability
...homeless, dirty and hungry
Offer to help me, without charging money
...keep in mind, it's the only one I have
My abilities and tasks all need to be halves
...perhaps don't act put-out or surprised
Because the person who's asking is paralyzed.
I remember every single bitter goodbye I've ever had to say. Left alone here in this town, though I was never forced to stay.
There are ghosts I've left behind me and there are ghosts that still remain. I can feel their haunting presence every single stupid day.
How they tear at all my motives and pull on every string. Leave me choking on my failures. The whispered voice of muted things.
Am I just some bitter tourist dragged by my wrists through private hells? Am I author and conspirator writing the stories in which I dwell?
To what extent am I responsible for this situation that I'm in? Am I really as alone as I have always thought myself to have been?
There is little I am sure of and fewer still of which I know, but I know that I am dying and that I'm still not ready to go.
I have unfinished business. I just thought that you should know.
My dear, I am a vandal
I am an eclipse of your brightest days
I am merely hollow, and in great despair
A turquoise sunset in a sunrise maze
I am an event horizon
Better left to its own devices
We are fragile as a sundered vase
Reaching for stars when clouds suffice
My dear, I am a bane of goodwill
I am marshes in your gardens green
I am ravenous and armed with tongues
A veil over your dreams unseen
I am corruption in the incorruptible
I am a syndicate of deceit
We strive to thrive in a heartless abyss
Weaving webs and yarns of the bittersweet
My dear, I am an arrowhead
I am doused in poison with no remedy
I am a covetous despot and a saboteur
Forever an omen of our catastrophe
I am the first feet in a field of mischief
A master seamster of discord
We hoard the rain in this eternal drought
Just to corrode, and rust, our lethargic swords
There I was, right there. Right on the edge. Right at the brim. This close to everything I ever wanted. My air. My sunshine. Freedom. And then there was my nose, broken free. I took the deepest breath I could muster, and blinked, just once to see the light right.
Then there I was, submerged. Drowning in the oceans of my own misery, as I had been for the longest time. The light getting dim, my lungs getting tight. My fingertips moving farther and farther away from the top.
One day the sharks will find me, I thought to myself. And they will tear me apart without a shred of mercy.
I broke their trust again.
But they were not angry this time, no.
This time, they were simply disappointed.
Which is much worse.
Brain today was discouraged and tired and bouncing back and forth from things like a ping pong ball and really stuck a little bit in ancient Egypt but mostly trying to draw spirally flowers but the dots wouldn't work right and all focused on how lungs didn't burn like that when I ran a week ago and really didn't want to talk to anyone that was going to respond because brain did not want to hear other peoples' opinions. Brain wants to get better and remember things but that didn't happen.
But that description is lengthy and deep and metaphorical and easily summarized with "pft."