Metaphorically Speaking.

It's easy to walk away when you simply shove investments and relationships into a small, undignified corner of your life. You forget they are there, like little pieces of dirty laundry that you never cared to wash and hang up to dry. Saving face is much different when forced to face your own self. Metaphorically speaking, of course. That corner contains every mistake, every regret, and every person you ever turned your back on. The dust collects and only stirs when more is added to the pile of emptied memories. So forgotten that you can hardly distinguish one book of regret from another. Maybe that is okay with you, as you throw another addition onto the pile blindly. Maybe you don't feel the added weight, the way your lungs protest when you breathe. Maybe one day you never will. Maybe that is just who you are. Maybe that is all you will be -- a book of regret stuffed in a corner that I, too, will never return to. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Whatever.

Screw you.
Screw her.
Screw it all.

Play your games as though the winnings are simply yours for the taking. Gamble it all. Gamble me. Let's see how long your luck will run. I guarantee it won't be long.

I wait. I fade.

I wait.

I fade.

Smiles drawn onto paper --

A false sense of security

With the heart stripped

Down.

I love, I live, I love.

I hurt, I die, I hurt.

A cycle; my cycle --

Come around again.

I fade.

I wait.

Love grips me tight.

I'm unable, too unstable

To leave you behind.

I find comfort here.

But is it real?

I'm invisible; I'm not here.

The irony, too much to bear.

I wait.

I fade.

Building with silent words,

Manifesting into emotion.

Left bare in the wind,

Where will I go?

Quiet understanding;

Hearts collide.

Will you be okay?

Beauty in pain --

I can still love.

This soul holds on.

Dissipate

taking a few steps back, i have been given a new perspective to this twisted manifestation of emotions. you are not who i love -- you are gone. all that is left is the shell of the one who was my completion. now you have evolved into my destruction.  

when these lies, these ties...

when they all dissipate,

you may have something...

but it won't be me.

you held it all in your hands -- the luxury of love, the honesty of us, and the hope for more.  shredded, it all falls to the floor to be swept up to nothing.  if everything was not enough, you shall never be satisfied.

when these lies, these ties...

when they all dissipate,

you may have something...

but it won't be me.

emptied of all i could ever give, numbness is all that is left. i cherish it when the twist of the knife is the only thing reminding me that i am alive. 

The Joke's On Me

empty this heart.

sadness so warm;

repeated pain;

numbing desire.

to be loved

would be so

devine.

loneliness,

my friend.

life is laughing.

depression speaks

with dirty words

lined with smirks

and cruel eyes,

poking and prodding

at a heart willing itself

to beat once

then die.

it curls, hugs,

squeezes.

too hard.

suffocating tears

without reason.

oh sadness

revolves on itself,

evolves into more.

it dissolves me.

stitches of release.

the warnings never...

do they ever?

communicate.

handshakes,

wistful smiles,

bursting heart.

the beginning

always has

a bitter end.

a song, quicksand.

always in between,

existing elsewhere;

sinking, searching.

maybe one day

this will succumb. 

just once

will i ever

get it right.

Visions Alive; Visions Departed

There are demons that pace restlessly within the mind that knock constantly, insistently to make their presence known. Turning my back only makes them stronger, growing and strengthening with every breath that fills my lungs and generates my heart -- they dance in the shadows outlined by flames like puppets in a cave. When will I know the secret to breaking them down? Will the day ever come when I am in control?

Smoky thoughts billow and slink along empty streets.
Creeping animations of crowds at dusk
Flicker then fade.
A moment -- be still!
Escape.
Virtue sneaks along alleyways and street corners
Street lights dim their faces.
A second sticks.
An aged doorway; a decaying room.
Innovation escapes to a vacant horizon.
Restlessness faces its mentor.
A moment -- be alive!
Eluded.
The minds of the occupied remain quite still.