Beloved..

I wrote mine without even knowing that you had posted.
Everything that I do is so that ones like you  can finally
have a chance to feel the Beautiful dream

    firsthand..  on the inside.

So, in truth.. you can truly say within your war-torn heart,
that every thing I do,  is for you.
It was an honor to go to your wall after I posted
and see what your heart and spirit had revealed  just
a few hours earlier.

Love is a funny thing. You are worth every moment  
of the pain that has come from the years of trying.
Hope..  and a deep understanding;  
and view of your own, tremendous Love-worthiness  
is what it is all about.

It is for that reason, solely..  
that Poetry ever came into being in the first place

    
    ..You are beginning to feel Everything.

I perceive you as a siren,
Using song to draw me in.
Brilliant, but aching,
Your favorite melody
Engulfing the sea;
Breaking glass through lonely love.

Bitter as bleach, the
Words roll off your velvet
Tongue and past acidic
Lips. You’re a hypnotist
Disguised as a broken heart
With a guitar.

Your fingers corrode the
Walls I’ve built, my
Stability in shambles.
I succumb to your song
And follow it to the waters edge,
Eager to die hearing your voice.

Living near the ocean should inspire happiness,
remaining caged in my bedroom,
I hear the ocean call my name.

A siren draped in golden satin with red lips,
she combs my hair for awhile.
Moves her hips to an old crooner's song,
that plays in my mind-
the sun is so full of ****, so full of lies.

Telling me, "I'm gonna be fine."
Why's it always in my eyes?
Everything’s just "fine" for the sun,
loved by everyone.

She is mocked by its presence,
she does what you wanna do.
Sings a solid hymn with the understanding
in life,
nobody wins.

The siren kissed my hand while,
taking pins out of her hair.
She unfurls the waves of an ocean-
revealing a black case with red felt
in her arms.

And she sang,
"The sun will come,
I will melt."

Red felt held
two ethereal stones.

"Sweet sadness cannot be escaped,
you are not fine,
this was only ever fate"

I've tied the  stones around my ankles,
the brush is in my hand.
I feel the coolness of her hair in my palms,
my hands wince from the pressure upon
my face.


The sun is just a lesson never learned.
Feel the sadness lift,
before I can rush ashore,
it's too late.

"Come
sweet sadness cannot be helped,
you are not fine,
this was only ever fate."

Darkness calls on us like the Siren's Song,
with the optimism of Candide, we charge on
because we know "things are exactly how they should be,"
But we're ignoring the fact that we cannot see!
We cannot be free!
No wonder Yossarian went so **** crazy,
trapped with no way out...
Like the old woman protecting her individuality in her burning house.
In this day and age,
Individuality burns out faster than paper in flames.
As fragile as Hamlet's mental state,
****, it's gone.
We're left as scared and self-conscious as J. Alfred Prufrock.
Questioning ourselves,
We don't dare disturb the universe.
Forced back by scrutinizing hands
through the shrunken entrances of our comfort zones,
Left torn and scarred
because they don't accept who we are.
I walk the halls with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
Watch identity evaporate without concern.
Ignorant voices, the poison dripping into my ears.
I walk the halls a ghost.
They think I'm weird,
Maybe a few screws loose,
but I'll tell you what...
"Crazy" Orr is the one who escaped Catch-22.
Though I fear there is not an Odysseus within all of us,
I fear we are not prepared.
For when Darkness calls on us like the Siren's Song,
temptation is seldom overcome.

6/13/14