A crowded room, I just dance, finding solice beneath the mask.
Friends they chatter laugh and squee, every one enjoying humanity.
Pulse is racing, words they vanish I can't stand this.
I wish I could join the crowd and interject some interlect.
Instead the panic steals the magic and now its to late, oh woe is my fate.
Stuck inside my own head, is it time yet for my bed?
Slip away quietly drinking my sobriety, hoping that next time my courage will win and I can finally play my part, instead of dancing in the dark.

Silky smiled girls
With cups tipped off of saturdays doubts
Validating infidelity for a firm grasp
Graffiti sideways winks
Your only as remarkable as your last debute
Born again to a word offering baptisms in svedka
Your vices tattood on a list of hymns
Find solice in no mans company
Bring faith on your knees to a boy who can't speak his name
Your body is a temple with access through insecurity
Bless me father it has been two drinks since my last confession
Silky smiled girls
Make no home for validation in weekend crimes

the darkness comes as it goes

the dread however, seems intent on staying.

falling to my feet only ends up a ****** mess

theres no soft place to fall,

no solice to take.

...

there is only the act of hardening

and tempered steel,

though, when cold to the touch

is savagely barren

it can still in the heat of fire

take on the attributes of warmth

and melt and become something rather inept

though slightly beautiful.

...

what then, is there to do but reform our selves

and invite anguish and pain and then harden and soften again

till we find the shape of our hearts in the mould of the future

we once dreamed of

if we can still remember it.

...

and dread will be our constant companion;

the third wheel in our fortunes.

which was never handed to us in any decent form of fate,

but that in that fight of going anywhere

somewhere hidden in the violent struggle

is our often ignored love

beating its heart out for the tempo to temper

and

both beats to trigger each other in all our love states

simply to be recognised for what they are,

invincible.

I'm drowning.
The waves crash around me
And the storm rages,
The rabid sea pulls me under,
Foaming in its fury.
.
And in the darkness, I cling to a lone rock,
A coral reef? A whisper of an island?
I'm deaf to whispers of comfort -
The wind and waves howl and crash,
Outside of me, and in.
.
Diamonds are also rocks.
This could be one, but I'm blind to see.
The night is black and the current strong,
I gasp for breath and clench my fingers,
Cutting myself, but I can't let go.
It's all that keeps me afloat,
This bit of stone, a lone companion.
.
I'm still drowning.
The feel of a small salvation,
The solice of solidity
Under my fingers,
Isn't actually a rescue.
The waves are merciless;
I breath in salt,
Gasp, and cough and heave,
And my rock can't stop that.
There's no defeating the storm.
.
It crumbles under my fingers,
Weathered by the ocean,
As am I.
The deep dark blue
Whips against us both,
But is it not my hands that break it faster?
.
I'm beyond saving,
Yet I cling, selfishly, taking it with me as I sink.
For the small comfort,
The solice of solidity under my fingers.
As I cough, and heave, and gasp,
Losing sensation in my limbs.
.
It's too much effort, holding on,
And I am tired, faded, worn.
Cold, and numb,
I feel the thrum through me now:
I'm one with the sea.
As I let go, and silence covers me,
Like a blanket against the water,
Lulling me, slowly,
To the deep dark blue embrace.
.
There’s peace in giving up,
Relinquishing the fight.
The ocean hums now,
So far beneath the surface,
It's quiet here, away from thoughts.
.

As echoes and whispers
Begin to change
And sound and silence
Become the same
I look back
From where I came
And find solice
In everything

Cross roads within our pathways,
As our minds flock to our own rhythms.

Likes of individual galaxy compounded,
And formulated into a personal chemistry.

Truth of stars perflexed by undiscovered universe,
And each stars collide in the void vexed with uncontrolled momentum.

Yet there are the singlular truth in all chaos,
And the relentless ether split to the vastness of space,
Like calm ocean that allow our solice.

Those days are but a yonder,
As we ponder upon the yearning impulses.

In the stillness of a full cup of water without a pin drop,
And with inner thoughts still hunger,
But still reach the vestige garden alone.

Vintage of souls forgotten in our hearts,
And shattered beats asunder murmur in tranquility.

As perpatual ideals die in the burning stars,
We are in space alone in dreams.

No longer a thought of discord,
nor any dissidents displayed,
But maybe that was an act of love unspoken.

perhaps someday my poems will become better,
my writing will flourish, and my thoughts become settled.
til then I sit and write you this letter,
of how life can sometimes get you fed up.

the ink spilled through the fountain onto a foundation becomes darker,
the words that they create are those of the departed.
you sit in solice wondering what created this monster, trying to figure out what you just started.
a blank sheet of white covered in darkness,
when deep down inside you just wanted to feel as if you were heartless.
to feel what it's like to not feel at all,
so onto this canvas your well of creations fall.
realizing that what was vivid and bright
is now permanently stained by the sheltered broken words that were once in your brain.
your thoughts then try to figure if flames will suffice,
and so you put the sheet up to candle light.
hoping that the stained and destroyed sheet will demise.
but as you unfold it, the words cross your eyes
so you grab the well and the quill again just to write,
what everyone did and said to ruin your life.
and **** does it feel good,
it feels so right,
to put thoughts into words,
and those words into light.
and then you pause for a moment.
no more noise in your mind.
silence for once, everything feels fine.
and you look at your hands covered in ink.
you grab that paper as you read it and think.
these are your creations, and now you know it.
this is how the broken becomes a poet.

When I first saw you, I don't know what I thought. Your hair was straight, and your bangs swooped to one side mearly covering the corner of your eye. You were talkative, clearly not my type. And yet, we held engaging conversations for 3 hours. I had forgotten your name, but I thought it would be nice for you to be my friend anyway.

Time passed and you opened my mind up to a lot of things, like not settling too young. You said you wanted me, and yet would not give me such a committing title as to say Girlfriend. I pushed you to like me. I was in such awe of you.

You were talented. I encouraged all of your successes. But I didn't see your true talent. You were talented in other ways that were malicious.
You were with two women. You were out with me by day, and talking with her at night. Confused about which one you liked more.

But it wasn't even about which of us you liked more. It was a game of chase. You waited to see which one of us would run after you the most.

Even after you gave me the long awaited title, you didn't tell me reasons you liked me other than the fact that I had won. Like you were some big prize at a carnival I had wasted all of my tickets on all the games trying to win a version of you. The version I thought was cool, and a version I could adore.

I wouldn't say it was a facade, or an illusion, or an illustration in my head. The version of you was real, but it was simply not the only version.

Some nine months later, you had declared a new version of yourself. One you said was better than all the others. One you claimed was going to be the final one. I had to grieve for the old ones, but had to accept the new one quicker.
I went to all of your appointments. Every doctor you had visited. Helped you develop your voice. Encouraged you when you got discouraged. And yet I was so discouraged.

You buried yourself. In other people, and in other things, never turning to look at me. I was helping you find your voice yet your voice would never speak to me directly. There was always someone else you rather talk to.

I found my solice in a few other people, too. When you took notice, that voice i never heard towards me, would suddenly boom into my ear as a loud sob. Also admitting all of your promises to me would be lies.

I was a Villan now. Untrustworthy. But had you not done the same? Wasn't it you who started it? Had it become another game?

I'd like to think I got good at the game, however I was still playing by your rules, and you were still the ruler. I had tried to cut the strings many times but you were still my puppeteer.

As I slept with one eye open, expecting you to scream at me in the dead of night- as you often did- I wondered, was this a new version of you, or was this your true version all along? Was this who you were when I met you? Was the adoration I had for you since the start...delusion?

You scream and you sob, and yet I can't hear you anymore. Your voice was hoarse and strained, and had becoming nothing more than white noise like rain on my metaphorical window sill. All the rain- the sobbing, and I still couldn't sleep.

I started to hear voices in an empty room. Angels? Hallucinations. You had encouraged I take a sip of alcohol, but the sip turned into bottles, routinely. And yet I still couldn't sleep.

I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I grabbed a knife I had stowed in my pocket, just to see if I could still feel such human pain. As the blade mearly touched my skin I wondered, how deep could I go? Now a scar I carry with me for the rest of my life.

Maybe you were my hallucination. Every bad day, bad experience I had in a person. I feel like it was training. Training me for the types of people I might encounter in my lifetime. Teaching me how to solve such a problem.

Did God give you the right for such an act? Such false promises and falsettos? I still cannot think of a reason for all that I endured. And will continue to search for one.

Solice my companion
In this existence
Life abundant in
Extremely difficult moments that
Never will I share as no one
Cares to quite simply allow me to
Elaborate on what ails my soul.

Wind the clock
Set it back
Way, way, back
Way back to times before.
Before the battle and after the war
Make it bright to see the light
Feel the pleasure
Feel the pain
Sun fades, moon wanes.
Everything stays the same
But keeps movin forward
Draggin feet on the carousel
Tryin to slow the movement.
Blind to the revolution.
The inevitable return
Closer to the end,
Closer to the beginning
Big bang, big crush
Babe in an incubator,
Old man in a respirator
Travel back to move forward
Return and arrive in the same instant
Fast or slow
As long as it moves
and doesn’t go anywhere
just don’t stop.
Crash! Break!
Break out of the circle
Fight against the tumultuous monotony
Of its suffocating embrace
Concentric circles
Drawing in closer and closer
To a cage in the middle
Walls are closing in
What is outside the circle?
Why can’t we get out?
Who are the gate keepers?
Where are they hiding?
How will we break through?
When will we be free?
Dark days and white knights
Lapping life from the doggy dish
Wearing the wind in our eyes
Think it’s a disguise
But truth is transparent
And the façade is opaque beneath
Get out of the circle
Break the line
Stand still and be delivered outside
Be free
But be wary
For outside lie perils unknown
Sanctity, Sacrifice, Solice
Found in the binding of
Saintly moments.
For it shall be
The summations  of good intentions
Which will break us out

There's a Dove
That casts no shadow
Of its story I will tell
It has flown to
Highest heaven
It has sunk to
Lowest hell

It is pure as
Sparkling snowbanks
It could melt them
Like the Sun
In the end, as at beginning
Over evil, Victory's won!
It will fill your
Soul with longing
It is the End
'Fore time's begun.

There's a Lion
On the prairie
He has strength
That over-awes
In His Face
You'll see compassion
He forgives
Egregious flaws
You can find
Your comfort, solice,
You could sleep
Between His paws

He is ferocious
He's Protection
He is gentler than a lamb
Yet he has the
Greatest power
For he is God -
The strong I AM.

There's a Rose
Within a garden
It's blood red,
For It's been torn
The Rose itself
Has greatest beauty
Tho It wears a
Crown of thorns
It is pure as
Light unblemished
It has grown
For death was born.

It has a scent
Beyond comparing
It has light
That shines within
It has died,
And yet is living
With it's fade
It took your sin

Come, all you
So weak and weary!
All three of these,
The trinity,
Will come into
Your life together
Give you eyes,
That you may see!

Yes, come, bring
All your broken places,
Your heart, or so
The Bible goes,
You'll find help
You will find healing

The Dove, The Lion,
and The ROSE.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/24/2017

Flurries of birds lament with me,
alone on this rock, as I appear to be.
But sat with the island, solice offered their calls
In front of the lake, it is not who enthralls
Who used to circle around my hand,
the last of the hourglass, lonely piece of sand.

With our own hands
Destiny is sculpted
The passion of youth
Molding a masterpiece

Time is unyeilding
Chipping away the details
The marble soaks in the pain
Cracks trickle chaotically
Death bombards innocence
Worn and weathered

Building dreams of clay
The beauty in life fades
Some find solice in destruction

In tides.
Change is fierce monster often left in shades of a lamb.
No pressense more cruel than that known as love.
Can we lie only to make this illusion so grand not appear traggic in design?

We question are truths beliving are thoughts instead of asking the one beside .
May we share this space only to distance areselves a little more at a time.

Picking apart the reason as in any situation we just always seem to lose track
of what it was that brought us here to begin with.
Anger can only mask my fears so long.
If you never understand then you'lll probaly stand with many.
***** the numbers it's a losing game to speak of to begin with.

Cold as rain in a approaching storm we can ignore the truth
if only to embrace are lies for one last time.
When did I ever become the shell?
A stranger in the wings to my own half thought logic .

Time makes a fool of us all.

As for me I sit without thought for to fight what never will be is a thought of another
The wolves howl at night only to hear themselfs die.
Tommorow you sound of hope in a hopeless void.

People togather in doorways hide from the rain and sometimes find there
placement a blessing.
Some find emptyness a solice I could never explian.

No man could ever be described so simply in one line.
Myself I find a stranger  often ive seldom cared to understand.

Im far from the image yet close to the tale.
Maybe storms suit me well a gray sky to a ever distant wind.
Sands bury the traces yet a thought leaves it's mark.

No matter my past ive found eyes still find that dust ridden cover
**** my flaws for the subject is never understood.

For if Heaven were a endless highway id probaly be headed south.


I

He would always wear my ring- giving me his full attention;
he would lay there- with me,
he listened to the music.
He listened to our songs.

And she carries my pouch, the one I made for her coins.
She carries my artwork- a piece of my mind, my imagination- one of which that even escapes my own memory-
I know she carried it,
Wherever she went.

And with a silent , namelless love, He uses my bookmark.
The one I made for him.
  I know, at every ending,
to every story-
It's there.  

A simple ring, a coin purse, a bookmark;
like the unity of a song we all listen to at once-
we're pushed together, bound by memory,
and immortalized in such fleeting feelings.
  
Isn't It Strange? That within these three mundane objects
I take solice.

Gravity Pulls

Our forms to be

Us

Forciose things

and full of wonder
Coalesced
A singularity

Yet

Light gives  sight
To halo Rings

cast black by the unknown.

As

Matter found
in vapor  form,
gives lift
To humbled fret

For This

A contract ,

duelly met

Is thee
Unbalanced bet

Thus of this
the arch of spark

The metronomal
Mark

Are

Atoms and matter
Space and time

Those truths of ,Light and dark

With tools so crude
To flame
From spark
Creation  cold and stark

From this
Reclusive
Alcamist

A Sentient being
adrift

And


Rue and refuse the piety
To gods
of gastsly note

So
due I hail
Thee
full of spite
Destroyer
Jubilant

Respond to you
Of you
no word
Shepard
Nought of
Herd

Of countless time
With rhythms rhyme

Reiterate
Time spent


Oh creature coward
Faceless you
Our saviors son's decent

Who


gave to me a hand of sand

The
grains,
owned
by
the
******

And woe of he
The ward of space


Gate
keep

Absent

grace

Riddled with
A failing mind


Our Blessed
Heathin *****

For

Surly plans
unknown, unwind
Of what he
Has
In store

This

An empty

Formulaic

Tombe of ancient tune


speaks this  code
A wayword
 vice

Absent
paradise


In higher planes he finds abode
Neglectful father form

And

finds he
solice

As
He
Demands

Souls
For
Evermore

So faceless form
Unmask thyself

Disarm
With
Your
Descent


For us
The mortal
Masses

Ask nought
With no consent

It sit's there apon the bar mocking me a clown in a insane circus of
never ending torment.
The music a backdrop to the madmans bluff.
Closing time never stops the want only speeds up my fire to consume.

Maybe it's time to slow down many say but when your breaks never were installed a crash is always certain.
**** it!
It's my vice and least mine arent hidden like thoose of others even through bloodshot eye's
I view just as clear as any other.
My hero's were all monsters to there own ego.
And when you belive your own ******* your as washed up as a name
painted on a wall left to fade.

Everyone gets passed by sometime.
But if this were a game I wasnt hitting them outta the park anymore and riding the bench
wasnt my style.

None had the nerve to stand up to me for even in madness my wit cut like a razor to a dull sense.
I kicked what was left back ordered another yes she was waitting.
And like a well trained dog for months I had swallowed my true voice to speak her lines
but ******* in breath is worse than a lie at heart.

Tonight i'd  cast it aside the fire in the glass didnt give me courage it only softend the blow.
I never needed a crutch to call a backbone my words stood for me and i lived them.
Tonight i wouldnt be that person silent meek or  drifting in the dellusion called love.

The bar keep gazed at me as a friend.
**** if not for that weak bridge of brotherhood id been cut off
hours ago.
I was at that point of rage and fury that made little noise just like a dragon the fire simpley
cast smoke in a dim lit world and shame on the fool who tested me tonight.

Trouble was a long lost friend that never ventured far when it comes to my thoughts.
My thoughts were blank and my world was at the point of change.
But no direction was always my role in the play.

Tonight i'd cast the first stone and destroy the mountain as well **** the view.
Give me space!
Emptyness is many things but a blank page is seldom a call for help.

As night met my warmed blood and cold heart I found solice as always in my own
thoughts some people need emptyness and isolation is but a sister to happiness.
I could always find a crowd when in need of shared thoughts and a simple laugh.

Tonight I wasnt empty for if i a flask in this thought known as life.
I was just half full.

Sometimes  you have to erase the landscape to see clear.
Change is something better left in pocket as tonight I did drown in a half empty
thought.

Ladies help define men to stride to be better,
And us men without our equal are prisoned in a soundless white room,
With sensation and voices dulled by empty cup.

The walk without the need to go places,
And the time stopped without her presence,
While searching for something tangible to grasp.

We men are mortified walkers,
Without a purpose or cause,
And lambs of the butchery robbed of shepherds.

We need our guidance,
Soul stone of our pathway.

The woman of our lives are our equal,
The voices where men can have sanctuary,
Our inner solidarity and piece of solice.

They are our inner home,
Our kingdom of fortitude,
The fortress of our essence.

Lady by the lake

She walks by waters misty blue

As dusk settles across the lake

She lights a latern to lead her there

To the other side her gentle stare

In lightest blue her dress of silk
Reflects the moon lit night

He's captivated by her dance

He waits for her though she is unaware

He calls her but he  she does not hear

He shows him self to her yet he she does not see

A spirit she awaits to set her free

He takes her hand but feels no warmth her side

Untill she feel secure she only hides

He holds her close and leads her to the shore

He kisses her neck so soft she breathes once more

From her silent reverie she now  awakes

She screams of fear and darkness from her night

But strong enough his love will hold her near

She twists and turns her spirit not yet free

But echoes of his beating heart breaks free

She allows him gift her body quivers see

But now real love and passion she can reveals

Not control but warmth and strength surround her

She finds herself excited by his warmth

For now she can be loved also protected and not scorned

And sails unfold as they begin to drift

A journey new way of love they make

Into a waters  sensual awakening

Of  love she wakes from silent reverie

Her body gently laid across his chest

Strokes her golden hair across her breast

She finally feels free of evils quest

In the morning the light through shadows play

He lies there as her slipsaway

Her spirits to the lake returns in her beauty

For only night can capture her solice still

she fades away to lakes side call

She glances up and catches his eyes they burn

she waits for the evening once more

But will not be free

FALLEN ANGEL

Deep in the woods we did gather.
Shared madness in a brothers confession.
Speaking underneath the stars of past failures and present
problems.

Towards the bottom of the jar and nearest to the flame.
Time cast a vision of nothing to remain.
You can experience  a life and never truley live.

Poets unknown even to themselves gather around this fire
Truth's of lies vanish with the embers into a  cold winters night.
Stories of women false yet a pain  in a watercolors thought.

The jar glows to the edge is where you must find a beginning
at times my friend.
In the darkness shadows cast alone shared by fires light.

Hours are lost but we gain the  moments and forget the
regrets in a ******* up place  we find more solice
than any preacher could  understand.

Life is a trainwrecks  call on a dying wind.
The jar almost empty burning in thought.
The woods a church of life  the fire's warmth the blood 0f
night.

In a place I seldom understand yet often recall.
Togather we understand.
The true emptyness of it all.

In tombs I gather secrets in shadow I explain.
The torment creeps slow the agony dies with my reason.
Outside the winter's cover is a mask of frozen earth.

Hidden below it's surface  lie corpses of all I dare not
betray.
Towards emptyness I gather solice in
pain inwhich I find comfort.

Screams from the cellar  call's of  a return to sanity
I've  long since shut out.
We exist on level's mine is the one from which
there is no return.

In the snow many tracks cross tread far from mine.

She does not lose well...

She will not forget.
It will haunt her,
the favorite pencil..
tip softened perfectly,
A paw, pushed it
somewhere to a secret spot.
Out of her vision...her reach.  

A peice of paper elusive, yet there...
lodged deep amidst
A stack
of most important things.

She does not lose well...

Not in terms of Games or Competition..
but the things in
her life
that Envelop
her world.

Tough, Scrappy,
Beautiful
and Oh-So Tender.
Holding all
things dear and
close to her heart

Loss is a place of  
deepest contemplation
for her.
The memories she has stored
through her life
stay alive,
stay vibrant,
stay with her

The immense
joy shared.
Her deepests sadness;
A cachet of stories
reverberate within her heart,
expanding outward
like ripples in a pond.

She does not lose well.

The Creatures
and People
that live within the wholeness of her being...

Even One pulled
out leaves,
like a building block,
a gap, a tear,
a hole in her life.

She does not forget,
Or minimize the Pertinance of Love,
Friendship
A moment that has touched her heart.

Forever an imprint upon her consciousness.
She is permeated with knowledge... the essence of all things.

When it is time for The Loss,
The breakng of her heart can be felt through all time
and space

Being filled with divine wisdom and insight, She is able
to see all aspects
at once.

The Purpose.
The moment becomes filled with rainbows of light.
She will bathe in that Beam...help guide Them Home
.
She knows how.

Knows intuitively what course will
be taken.
She trusts in the Divine. Her piece of solice, amidst the flutterings of her most  tender,
broken heart.

The history, the moments.  Living memories, are paramount  in the connection she has with All.

She does not lose well.

Her grief shrouds her, a mystical shawl.
A veil that will hold her dearly
till the pain is at least bearable..

Then she will
Begin
To tell her stories
once again.

It's much too late and I should be sleeping
The restlessness of lost souls
Can be heard above the din
Of silence
Where will I find my solice
No arms folded around my weary bones
I give in
Love bewilders me
So I shall beckon for its caress no more

a boxcar rooted in wheat
the laughing man finds solice
and shelter from the rain

faces on speed dial
weather and rot
why you caught up  
on a boy in a boxcar?        

acummulating dust
ferric oxide (rust)
acid-burning insides
decomposing through
living amongst
centipedes
and mice  

we have succumbed to a garden state
dig deep
for roots
or something to hold on to

To those who have an estranged parents would not need an introduction,
And those of you who have the gaping wounds would only be christened in self propelled justification,
But any of us in these journeys like all adventures do come to a close.

Proving to everyone your ways are correct,
Or dismiss the very thought you been wrong,
And all finales the conclusions the end is not all we may seem to understand.

No one will know the inner conflict that stirs all emotions into ejected unspeakable anger,
And no self righteous religious leaders would know how to quell the demon shadowed in your best illumination.

For all things are never bygones,
And patriarchs or matriarchs are but a human beings with chipped characters,
But no amount of apologies would dismiss their old follies.

Then the sands come to claim us, breathlessness plunged into a moment of silence,
And all solice come to a halt with all whispers sieze.  

The person you feared all your life has become pale,
Body mass and muscles have left them,
While the frail body yielded them a hunched postures.

No matter the prospect you will not be fooled by their weakness,
Nor will you show sympathy to their coming times,
And all senses of love have been depleted bone dry.

No one can tell you "You are wrong,"
Because no one has dealt with your past,
And the world must shut their mouth.

That was about a 6 month ago,
To some it would take longer,
And others there would be no second thought.


Sometimes deepen pain can never be healed,
And those of you who took the picture of the frail parent in the hospital can't deny your feelings,
As you look at the healthy picture against the dying parents you have made up your mind.

The breath is asunder as the lungs clinge to what little air to grasp,
But those of you who choose to make peace and see the dying person one last time is a better person then I,
For not all of us can forgive and forget.

****, I miss this place!

the words revolve around in my head unable to get out.

cloisters of verses cling begging for a home under a title

and all I can do is shush them into an untimely death in a grave unmarked they dissapear.

my head aches for my heart ,my heart aches for my soul,  my soul aches for you.

a quiet discomfort lays its shadow over me

and I many times silenced by my avid and monotonous duty and honour bound work ethic

there are too many good deeds to unravel the twisted life ive lived.

there are too many costs to add up the total devastation

a stagnant pool of I dont give afucks everywhere I turn,

but not here. here there is always a bite of soul

a latching of comeraderie

and of physical expectations muted.

here is only the minds and hearts service

here is the solice of cool breezes on suffocatingly hot and dry days

a sunny patch on a drenched waterlogged flashing thunderous landscape

but I cant come when I want most.

and such is poetry among friends and by its nature

such pourings of colourful and transparent globual beauty reflecting a mirriad of soul thoughts and heart empassionings

we are all somewhat rendered offended when our offerings are not burnt in offerings of appreciation

to flutter like white ashes to the sky and land delicately on some haphazzard surface till oblivion.

but it is the nature of life that not all can be taken or absorbed or experienced there will be things missed if not superficially then on the deeper levels.

and so I miss this place when I can not come.

when my hands are tied to other pixels and other machanical combombulationary works.

I am simply a slave of my own doing.

captured by what i brought to life

ever distracted by globules of refracted light and codes of beings whom I find such incredible joy

that I can never repay or inspire as much!

hugss SS

I miss the **** out of you all xo

If we could control our dreams
   we'd only ever sleep
Without disdain, without grief
Why wake up if we have everything?

I find my only solice in dreams
   I feel so alive when I sleep

One day in the fifth grade I awoke and decided I didn't like my face anymore.

Then a year later, I came home from school crying because I was bullied for being fat.

I began to feel as though I was a waste of space. Unworthy of friends or love, quite frankly living or existing at all.

I decided to turn to self mutilation to fill the empty uneasy hole that had manifestated in my heart.

I felt short term solice for long term feelings. My arms, then my legs. A few on my thighs and wrist. A problem erupted from my dark demons that ruled the kingdom that reigned my head.

A year went by and I met someone who I thought I loved dearly. But to my mistake I only loved their sorrow and was attracted to the despair they had that was quite similar to my own.

It ended and a shining sun opened up for me. My wounds had healed to little white scars. My heart had never felt so swayed in my life. All thanks to yet another man. Who I instead loved for their light and smile. They brought out the best in me.

That also came to a sudden close. For the man was but a boy and even to this day is filled with confusion of his future. I went spiraling down from my throne into the depths of the deep ocean floor. My old cuts and slices re opened and blood filled the whole sea.

I met a dear friend that held the fort down and kept me as sane as possible that year. I turned to him as well. To fill that hole that was still so empty. Yet again only to realize I was wasting my time. Forcing myself to be with someone in order to not be alone.

Then senior year came and I finally had realized something. This battle with myself cannot be won by filling that hole with someone else. I have to get my own dirt from the ground and fill it myself.

The pain I feel is my pain that I have to fix. No one else can heal me or win this on going battle. I have to learn to love myself. To stop trying to see what everyone else see's in me. To discover who I really am.

No other lover is going to do all those things. No one can but myself. I cannot truly love anyone until I learn to love myself.

This battle still isn't over and I have plenty of time to fight. But it's a beautiful blood bath and I am willing to draw my sword until I have reached victory.