If I were a house and you were the rain
I’d open up all the windows and doors,
letting you flood and ruin me inside
just so I’d have an excuse to say I changed.
Candlelights whispering rumors of flame,
tickling the air of the chamber with the scent
of dishonorable burdens and soaking shame.
Night had not even fallen before the message was sent.
A man of innocence and faith would be to blame.
The fireplace gossips tales of burnt wood and iron,
massaging the wind of the grand hall with the stink
of grandeur lies, cryptic tongues, and a jittered liar.
Day had not even risen before the cries were on the brink.
A man misunderstood and unknown shall burn in the pyre.
I glance at the mirror,
My face is a stranger.
I search inside for hours.
Alas, I’ve always known.
Lo’, Fear is the mind killer.
My promises drizzle down lame
Like angel tears on a cracked window pane.
I used to see myself as a lion with a flowing mane
But, these days I’m nothing except worn and tame.
No Pride I dare to call my own.
As aged as abandoned nostalgic streets
With not a house or a dream for keeps.
Let it be shadows and gray fields that I roam.
For I am an empty train on rotting tracks
Screeching torturously into a velvet curtained night.
Like a man of the machine
Infusing his beating heart with steel
I replace these feelings with logistics
In order to analyze the [DATA] listed
[NO HUMANITY REQUIRED]
Years of [DECODING] and filing have passed
And I [ACCESSED] the encryptions
Telling me you had [FILE MISSING] me all along
Until I had given myself away
Obsessed with understanding the ‘Why’
Instead of [ACCEPTING] it for what it was..
[FILE NOT FOUND]
Skin that boils in a rainbow twilight
melting off my lead bones and grinding flesh,
sizzling and crackling resonating from this corpse.
I’m lain in a chair of cards and knives
gambling on the weight of burdens and uncertainies
to send me tumbling down in a tempest of lavish bullets.
The infinite possibilities in a finite world etched into every round.
Blood-soaked glasses grant more vision
than open windows and kicked-down doors.
Flaying my mind of madness
while kindling the crippled clusters of concurrence.
I don’t see the splattered canvas as in the days of old.
What’s left is a tightened barbed crown
upon the forehead of a man’s desires.
Twirling and steady in step
with sickened headless horses
riding the road of bent nails and ripped letters.
There’s always a way.
You can do anything.
Imperfection is existence. Perfection is an end.
I like drinking milkshakes on Sundays
And smiling when it rains.
I prefer to cry and scream when I’m sad
Rather than let the river flood inside.
I let myself be shaken by my fears
So that I know my weakness
And I can become stronger
Don’t ever let yourself give up.
There isn’t such a thing as Impossible.
Only Happiness and Love
If you allow yourself to believe in it.
I’ve got a mind scattered like children lost in the Forest of Visions. Behind every branch and tree lay a fraction of what use to be pieced together as a naive and childishly innocent painting. After the Moon lunged upward and gracefully glazed its eye over the horizon, the Sun was left with the withering remains of unfiltered confusion and grey tears. Like the lone wolf who didn’t ever want to be lonely, I howl even when the sky is brighter and bluer than my eyes when I could understand what it was to feel alive. As wounded as the chased hunter, my prey turned into a vicious beast of loss, grief, and guilt. Caught in this trap I have refused to resort to this last sacrifice and now as it stares through me I can only bleed a colorless stream of tortured and strangled collapses and shudders. The night and the ever-watchful Moon will come again, and while my insides are gnawed away and ripped out ruthlessly, I am to wonder where in this heaven-forsaken world did the tale of my tragedy and fall begin. I am to wonder if it is a cycle, and I am unbreakable. And without a final salvation.
To all the people who had a good christmas: have an even happier new year!
To all the people who didn’t have a good christmas: It’s alright to be upset. Not everyone has a perfect family, or even a good one. If you ended up crying, it’s okay. Please, know that people here care about you and it won’t always be like this. One day, you will have a christmas where you are surrounded by people who respect you and care about you, I promise.
It was December 25th. I can’t even remember the year.
I could smell Mom’s cookies and the glow and warmth
of the Christmas tree lights
brightening me and my brother’s smiles.
Tearing through those presents like a rabid dog, giggling like a fool.
My brother got a neat little action figure.
I got a spaceship. I looked to my father, who was sitting in his chair
grinning at the two us, and laughing at my dorky and excited face.
He knew what I wanted cause I told him every day:
Dad, I want to be an astronaut.
Up into space.
Looking down on Earth everyday.
Years later, it was another December 25th.
Still can’t remember the year.
I’m holding my brother’s body from a deal gone wrong.
Trying to bring him back from five shots to the head and chest.
I didn’t want to accept that his memories and love for me
were all over the sidewalk and store windows.
This isn’t what I imagined. Nor what I wanted.
Like I told my dad everyday before he lost to cancer:
Dad, I want to be an astronaut.
Up, up into space.
Looking at the stars everyday.
Now we’re at yet another little Christmas.
This current year, of course.
The wife and kids have left today.
Now I’m pitiful and alone.
This isn’t what I planned. Nor what I needed.
It was a bad setup from the beginning.
I couldn’t escape the road ahead of me.
And all I could think about was my dad again…
Dad, I wanted to be an astronaut.
Up, up, up into space.
Somewhere far away.
I refuse to go from cage to cage filtering this battered rage, like a soldier charging into the last battle in hopes of final victory. I'll travel from field to field wielding these aching bones that rattle as if I were being withered down by age. I can run these hundred miles breaking myself apart if it means being this far away, standing in empty lands. Gone from lying smiles and the sickening bile of tainted lives clawing their way to capture me numb.
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