Fear me.
Honest to God, you should fear me.
Because you are the only thing I know how to hate.

Someone once told me that I had a heart of gold,
That someday it would ***** me over,
Despite it being my best quality.

I can empathize with the greatest villains in the world.
I can find our commonality in our humanness.
I can see the small slivers of goodness in them.

I find none in you.

You are the worst type of monster.
I cannot even fathom having that type of evil living inside of me.
I see nothing but darkness in you,

You think I'm scared of you?
I can't even begin to try and contain my laughter.
You cannot hurt someone immune like me.

But, sure, if it makes you feel better,
Believe that you have "hurt" me.
Believe that you have some sort of power or victory.

But remember this.
When you have to turn and run, and I am able to stride on by,
Your illusion will be shattered.

Dans les belles nuits sombres
Quand les pensées m’ont hantée
Je ne les peux jamais comprendre
Avant qui ils sont bien captivée

Les pensées si haute et grand
Entoure mon cœur tendre
Les petites doutes et offrandes
Qui mon âme de désir me rende

Les illusions, ceux qui existent
Ils sont doux, si trompeuses
Et pourtant je ne comprends pas
Pourquoi ils sont magnétiseuses.

Mes chères, édifiant rêveries
Qui me donne du chagrin, du mal
Mais sans qui je ne peux pas vivre
Les chimères, gentil et fantomal.

Formed of muscle and sinew
A superficial existence
Confining and revealing an,
Enigma inside.

Stark white papers drifting aimlessly
These purple footprints chasing,
Often failing, sometimes catching up
Reality surfacing-

A wonderful life is not coherent
No linear course can span the all
From 20 till now, a course unimaginable
Yet hear we are, compassion trying to express itself
        despite the illusions.
Forgiveness is not a lie, to stop is to stop
Therefore it has stopped, a comfort of feeling.
The journey is my road, traveled by me, and
Everyone else in the space/time/mind continuum.
I am the sole owner of love, as i am the sole owner
        of fingernails.

When the light went, a cold wind blew.
An accumulation of warmth
came from copse and hill,
cheap spawned and self created,
as the night renewed.
He walked home, careless of his stumbling steps,
and softly threw his bags to the
floor, demons on the hearth-rug,
coiling snakes and insects everywhere.

It was all behind him now.
A sullen fist of half-remembered regret,
the weather-laden wood carrying his dreams
in each silver flaked leaf.

A half-remembered face, an
age destroyed beauty.
It was time to go now!
Time to go!

Ultimately we own mere illusions.
This my opinion which you do not like.
Tough! I don't care if your karmicly thick
Mind confined does heroic contortions
To affirm. I don't care if your wispy
Aggregate dreams a Himalayan self
Poor ******* son of Santa Claus. I laugh
At your ***** soft logic, dark, faulty
Twisted, and stillborn at the lip. Live your
Pain to its fullest shape, suffer your thought
Completely. I ask only from this heart
That if you choose, reach to me with hope for
Help, that i may gently lend a hand free
Of pretense, as you have done for me.

do not weave me into your poetry.
the needle hurts,
the yarn itches,
your words swarm my head with lies.
your bittersweet poetry-
all a show.
your words create illusions.
i will not allow you to try to create me as your own masterpiece
when i am my own destruction.