I'm looking down watching what you do
As if i'm Uatu the Watcher
Or maybe I'm controlling you
Like the evil Puppet Master
See you have no control in life
This is my world and I'm just allowin you to live in it
It's like I'm eating up planets with Galactus
And creating chaos with Apocalypse
I'm in control of my actions
Choosing to do wrong
Only to wait until my redemption by the hands of the worthy
You're inside my head like Charles Xavier
Trying to find out my secrets
Only to discover that I keep my mental barriers on lock
With no key or code to unlock
Said passageway into my subconsious
Because I can block you without a helmet
Unlike Juggernaut or Magneto
I'm free to swing around with the good wall crawler known as
Scarlet Spider
Hah
And write up my own unique flows with no worries
I don't need the X-men or Avengers
Or my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man
To know that I have some great repsonsibilities on my shoulders
Weighing me down like a ton of bricks
And I don't need someone like Doom
Telling me how to be a leader
When we all know his leadership skills could use some attention
I'm an enigma
Close to what Deadpool would say is
Very unique
Before muttering towards the wall
As if it were his faithful audience
I know who I am
I know what I do
So simply put
I'm freaking awesome

[Alright, I don’t know how else to say this, but...
You know Unsafe?
I only made 3 parts.
I keep getting wind that there’s a part 4.
I’m starting to think that SHE continued it somehow.
How she did is beyond me, considering she isn’t exactly real.

Oh yeah.

       You might want a little clarity as to whom i am referring to.

Alright. so, the series X is written about a mystery girl that is called (or rather represented as) X, no?

Well, the reason she’s called that is because nobody knows her name.

I never gave her one.

Getting back on topic, it’s supposed to be written by another fictional person, whom for the sake of continuity, we will call W. Now, W and X were in love, very much so. W is offed, X mourns, yadda yadda yadda, et cetera, et cetera. Well, I felt that in order to give X more clarity and depth, that i’d have to write a second series, One that is written in the perspective of X. This premise became what you now know as Unsafe.

But, for some reason...

As I continued writing Unsafe, it felt more and more like I wasn’t even writing.

It’s like she had extended into my subconsious, from the fictional world in which she dwells, and into my pen.

Luckily, she’s easy to identify. I write her in ‘a special way’ as opposed to my [normal] writing.

Wait.









Alright, Don’t be alarmed, but She MIGHT (this is a big might) have escaped the domain I made for her,

Unsafe,

And into my Notes.

I cannot tell if it’s true or not, as this notice is considered it’s own poem. I cannot interact with my Notes until I decide to leave any poem that I am currently in.

But more importantly, this also implies that she is SENTIENT, and no longer needs me to convey her thoughts and actions.
Hell, she might be fighting for control over my account as I write this!

Ahahaha...

I really ******* myself over, huh?

Anyways, if you see her, tell me IMMEDIATELY! Just whatever you do, DON’T interact with her! In her current state, she is most likely extremely hostile.
I do appreciate you reading X and Unsafe, but this is getting a liiiiitle serious here, so uh...

Please take caution! I couldn’t live with myself if one of my readers LITERALLY GOT KILLED OFF by one of my works.

I’ll update you guys if anything meaningful happens.

In the meantime, I think I’ll go somewhere...

Familiar.]

When I die,
please do not put me in a box.
Do not wrap me in fine silks and do not play me a song when they lower my rosewood coffin into a hole in the ground.
Please do not cry and tell stories of when I was alive.
Do not cry for me.
Cry for yourself if you must shed tears.
Cry because you know that its not that much longer till you join me.

Emote life and happiness and joy when I die, I beg of you.
I want to be spinning in your arms as you sing gaily, spinning my leftovers.
I want to go into the ground naked.
I want no makeup on my face or embalming fluid pumped through my **** or flowers stapled to my lapel.

All I want are two flowers pressed to each  temple.
I want every line, every sore, every hole I have earned to be seen and acknowledged.

Then let go.

I want the maggots to eat my heart and **** the shell into the dirt.
I want worms to crawl through the sockets of my eyes just like a starving child in some third world country that you have only paid any attention to when they make a brief 2 minute imprint on your subconsious as you are pondering the next brief pleasure to get you from now,
to then.



While I Live.



While I live, I want to live.
I want to be better than the bees and I want not to covet their ability to make honey, but understand it as something I COULD bee.
I want to create realms of gold and green where passion is the only thing put to the test.

THE DARKSIDE NEVER SLEEPS
as i slip out of all awareness, i go deep in my subconsious mind to the point of unconsienceness. the nite entered me. the night was in me i was possessed by the nite stressed by the nite blessed by the nite carress by the nite even when the nite seems to hold me away from goin home and knowing i am entering the unknown, i still enter the darkside or should i say the darkside entered me.
he worked his growth of darkness deep inside my damp love cave,
i tried to scream but the shadow of darkness suffocated my screams of pain, my moans of pleasure.... faceless, but his kisses of passion left me breathless... but still i     fight ,but the more i fight,the darkness tightens his grip on my wrists,my spine begins to twist, deeper he lunges his darkness into my pulsating abyss...then the passionate kiss, roughly biting my lips, as i ****** my hips against this unseen force of darkness...i search for light...something, anything ...i gasp for my breath as the darkside engulfs me whole.
the darkness is inside of me but i now become one with the darkside.
i try to open my eyes to escape the darkside,
my mind wont allow awareness, im scared of this....

I was that quiet girl in the back of the class.

I watched. I listened. I could feel my brain tense and absorb what I would forget years later.

This face belongs to this name. But what color were their eyes?

Remember the date of the death of a man who I will never meet, but long to.

What was his most cherished memory?


I wanted to be her.


My subconsious controls the conscious memories I mentally concoct in my dreams. Why can I remember these now while I can't even remember my homework?

What happened to the girl in the back of the class?

Listening. Watching. Remembering dates, faces, names, colors, numbers, signs, places, books, words, memories.

I don't remember.


I want to be her. Still.


My dreams are more pertinent, more lasting than the reality. Why?

Lucid dreams.

I can control you.


I'll make up a name and match it to a face. I'll fly away. I'll become what no one will ever suspect, and succeed.


I remember my dreams. I remember every face, every name, every voice, every word.

But why can't I remember my homework?

I remember who I loved. But in my dreams...



I can't.


The girl in the back of the class. Why can't I remember her anymore?

In the dreams...

She's grown up now.

Every day is a dream. I remember my dreams. I remember

When I was that girl, did I dream about me? About who I would be years later? I dream about who I was, but what about what I would become?


I miss remembering those faces, names, dates.

But, everyone has to grow up.

Everyone has to wake up. Sometime.

Dreams are my escape,
I don't mean day dreams,
There are too many other distractions while awake,
No I mean dreams while asleep,
Some think I just love to sleep,
and I do,
but that is not the main reason behind my madness,
I love to escape reality for as long as I can,
I love to experience anything I want,
and to see what lies in my subconsious,
Now I must escape,
Life is getting rough and confusing,
I don't do drugs like smoke or drink,
I don't cut myself,
I don't hurt others,
I just sleep,
That is my out and I must go now,
Good night and I hope your escape is as enjoyable as mine...

I know you're sitting there now-
Close by, at his bedside;
In that white hospital room,
Watching the ebbing distance in his eyes.
He's in a state of drifting, floating,
Here one moment, gone another,
And sometimes you wonder where
He floats to in subconsious slumber.

And from months of running;
Chasing currents of flowing streams,
You heavy heart grows weary
Listening to his slowing heart beat.
You've been holding on so long,
But now you watch him slip away:
Like water out of your palm;
Like light at the dusk of day.

Of all of a father's love outpoured,
I pray you'll hold on to his memory,
As the arms of life's oceans pull him in:
Out of your arms, out of your reach.

-c.t.

he convinced himself he
doesn't have a chance
he told his mind he doesn't care
but his subconsious has
his eyes looking for me
his body acts like he's not interested
but his face says it all
he event went for a stunt
similar to my looks
but he knows is not what he wished
that's what i tell myself
because there's something between us anyway . . .