Oh, the troubles I've seen

I worry about strange things
that should not consume my mind.
I have bigger worries on this plate,
they I purposely don't find.

Worries I should not have,
possess my time.

Toss & Turn

Another restless night with silence as my company.
My music seems an intrusion in an environment so still, so quiet.
It started out so well, only to awake minutes later
with eyes open wide.

It's nights like these that I wish I was not here.
I wish I was in a simpler place at a simpler time,
so that I might be able to find some relief though pure exhaustion;
Running through those fields, gazing at those stars.

However, I am enclosed in these city walls,
with my heart pounding and muscles twitching,
rattling these bars that hold me hostage.
The metal rings out but holds firm,

And this insomnia bears its ugly head,
making its presence known.
Mentally and physically vulnerable,
I am at his whim.

too many nights

And this lack of darkness behind my eyes strikes again.
Restless and mentally tired.
Eyes drifting shut, but there is no comfort.
Skin grows hot with my frustration
as the minutes tick by
and the window of opportunity slides shut.
My bed becomes rock
and my sheets of thick lava.
Plans for the coming day shot;
stress wears on my body.
Massless pins and needles prod and hinder;
Twitching, aching.
Unable to function properly,
I lay restless,
with not other things capable of being done.
The alarm clock sounds in a room without need,
and the sun rises,
but it has been behind these eyes all along.
Part of the routine
of a body growing weaker
and a soul growing less content.

Baseline

I suppose that my wants are far too simplistic for the times that we live in.
Over-complication is the whore of relationships today.
Shift and sift, chip and wear,
what you have left will please my craving for molecular satisfaction.

To weave,

Weaving in and out of the legs of my elders,
I cling tight to the skirts of those before me
and grasp for the ankles of who I know is steady in these rapids.

When looking to should become looking ahead,
I am held fast in this equilibrium.
This dreamlike aquatic plain keeps me centered but removed,
to live as an awkward observer.

Awaiting my release,
I am growing impatient
and flailing is finding myself caught up in my own waves.
I am not making any forward progress,
so, instead, I am fighting for involvement;
to be part of that cycle once more.
But, held in this concrete are my feet anchored deep.

I do not like the view from this window,
the only view that I perceive.
There is no land to jump to below even if I wanted.
As I have been left here for years to ponder,
my brain has grown fat with philosophies,
and remains restricted to this cage
to only further my predicament.

Reclining

Too many times have I started to but have had to hold myself back, because it is not perfect. Upon observation, however, few things in my life are. I fully understand that every day can not be as inspiring as the day held in question, and not every breath is taken in with a meaning.

However,
how will I know when I have hit it right?
When will the siren sound for striking gold?
Will I be aware of when to stop living on these scraped thin knees?

Consistence Is Key

Self love is something that I preach to those in the depths of drear;
We all do.
However, it is always so hypocritical.
Doubts are always present.
And in the back of our minds, they wreck havoc.
Influencing our actions, our beliefs.
We are mutated into something that is far less than our potential.
We are all held tight around the neck by these leashes held by the most cruel of masters.
Ruled are we by these things that are far below us.
Yet, we cannot seemingly swim against these currents in our moments of weakness.
Jealousy, envy, greed.
Tell me that you have not fallen victim, and I will have identified a liar.

In this hole, there is only room for ourselves. Lone.

In the dirt encompassment, we will remain until we start chipping away at the falsities that have become our projections.

We will remain entombed until we become able to see the light peeking in around the perimeter of that solid concrete ceiling.

Indifferent Awakening

INDIFFERENT AWAKENING

October 24, 2005
For My Instructor,
Mrs. Nancy Thater
(To you, I owe the greatest.)

The young girl arrived home to a half-built house. She shook her head as she shuffled up the walkway to the front door. The cold wind whipped at her hair, she cursed Mother Nature in her mind. The car horn sounded off as her uncle backed out of the driveway. Without sparing a glance towards him, she flipped her hand over her head. She figured that it was best that she be alone for a while. She had a lot of thinking to do. She did not need anything more pressing on her soul, which seemed to be dragging on the ground behind her, tied halfway by her shattered heart. Even then, those were only held by the remaining trace of her sanity.

She opened the door and headed to the right wing of the house. She slid the first door behind her shut to keep the draft of the unfurnished half of the house from rushing in. She set her bags down by the entrance to the basement. She rushed down the stairs, shivering, and turned the furnace on to heat the right side of the house. She quickly checked the gauge and turned the furnace on as high as it could go without worry of blowing. Oh boy, would I love that, she thought to herself and rushed back up the stairs. She trekked up another set of stairs back to her room.

She set her bags down and went to the bathroom that was connected with her room. Whenever her stepfather had first introduced the plans, she was terribly excited by the idea of having her own bathroom. Now, it was indifferent, as so any things now were in her life. She turned on the shower and watched the steam rise. She walked out of the bathroom, swinging the door shut as she went. That should do the trick. She checked her messages. That was another issue between her and her stepfather. The girl needed privacy. That was all she asked. She even paid for the bill. That is right, she was working now. Everyday after school, sometimes until dawn. She managed to keep up her homework, it did not highlight the best of her abilities, but it got done and her grades were reasonable. Above average, that is just what I am.

She took a seat on her bed and listened to the fourteen messages that were left by friends left out in the cold about the entire ordeal. She half-listened. Her attention was now more focused on the vanity mirror that sat across the room from her. She wore her eye makeup thick, trying to hide the fact that she had not slept in days, that she was dying inside. She was trying to shake the world off her trail. Her cheeks were still a bit red from the cold October air. She snapped her head to the side, looked out the window and screamed. She screamed for what it was worth. She did not care who heard her or what message was playing. Those factors were indifferent now. They were bleak static in a dark and dreary world.

The hot tears were streaming down her face, making her face burn, making her scream louder and with more vigor. Her fists were clenched so tight that her nails were digging valleys into her palms. The screams turned to sobs and the sobs to mere whimpers. She watched the first faint traces of blood begin to appear in the small gashes of her flesh and wiped them off on her dress pants. She laid back and closed her eyes, letting everything go. The images ran through her mind like a movie projector. Sounds, smells, tastes forming for a bit, and then leaving before she was even aware they were there. She knew the overall theme. Her father. Lost forever. Never to return. Never to be there again. Her mind flashed red. She was overcome with anger and resentment. She did not understand it. No warning. No explanation left.

Her father had killed himself.

Out of state. Oregon, actually. He had told the girl he was going to open his own law firm and become a leading attorney for the northwest. And, when he had attained enough money, he was going to bring her to him. They could finally be a family. She could finally feel loved. She could relieve herself of the pain in her heart that they dubbed her 'new father.' Not too much longer. She could still remember the day he told her that. She could finally have those true father-daughter moments.

He had had too much to drink. His girlfriend had abandoned him. His firm was failing miserably. He was left alone, cold, confused. He left not a single note.

The girl was sat down by her uncle, a near week after the incident. It was unsure of how to be revealed to his daughter. She did not cry, which is what worried her uncle the worst. After speaking to her for over two hours, he told her the funeral was on a Saturday and that he had plane tickets for the both of them. He had alerted the school, which was very sympathetic and said that whenever she felt like returning would be fine. The girl had stated that it was not necessary. She was extremely formal about the entire thing. With no emotion at tall, she asked and received details about how it had happened.

She was numb.

Her uncle shook his head. A week before, three kids from her school had died in a car accident. Now this. The year before she had to deal with her best friend's father's suicide. He remembered her being sent home from the school for being in such a state of rage about how the school had handled the incident, treating it as a publicity stint. He asked the girl if she was going to tell her friends, and maybe choose one of them to take the trip with her. She shook her head no, and stated that she did not want to put one of them through what she had gone through the previous year.

They had attended the funeral and the girl sat quietly, accepting condolences with an appeasing but fake smile. She remained distant, and went with her cheeks dry the entire weekend. She replied in one word answers, and would not eat. On the flight home, she turned her distant eyes out the window and that is where they had remained.

The girl opened her eyes. She sat up. She looked into the mirror and witnessed the mascara running in streams down her cheeks. Tears of the dead. She picked up the crucifix. You robbed me of him. She threw it. It shattered the mirror. She allowed herself a slim smile and trudged into the bathroom. It was choked with steam. With a distance even away from herself, she seemingly undressed and slipped into the empty tub. She felt the water, and imagined its tranquility washing over her. She was not aware of the movement of her own hands, working diligantly around her. She felt her eyes close and welcomed the gesture and dreamed of the would haves, could haves, and the could bes. She dreamed of her father.

She saw her father building the pens for her horses he had always promised her. She took steps to approach him, for his back was turned, and she felt amazing gusts of wind knocking her off her feet. She fell on her back and looked into the sky, which was black and endless. She looked quickly for her father, and watched silently as his flesh was ripped from his body. She attempted to scream, but that too had been stolen from her. She felt herself falling, and welcomed the feeling. The scene around her turned to ashes.

She fell onto a bed of beautiful roses. White and fragile. Purity. She arose and peered around her. In the distance, there was a magnificent stone building. She felt drawn to it. She slowly began to move towards it, the roses ripping at her flesh. The feeling was true. She welcomed the sense of reality. At last, she felt the stone beneath her feet and was within arm's distance of this monstrosity. This giant. She let her fingers trace the walls as she walked its perimeter. No entrance. The stone was smooth and there was no evidence of age or weathering. Words started to appear beneath her hands.

Her feet could not carry her backwards from this place fast enough. She stumbled over her own feet and found herself sprawling backwards terrified by the events taking place in front of her. And after a brief period of metamorphosis, the wall revealed its underlying secrets. Something that both astonished the girl and appeared not to be a surprise at all.

On the wall, carved deep and bold, was her father's name. Below that, engraved was 'forever to be in the company of...' and there more prominent than ever, was her name. Her breath was nonexistent and her lungs were convulsing upon ashes. The ground opened beneath her. The girl tried to grip the roses to prevent her fall, but it was to no avail. Seemingly, the roses had lost their thorns, and their stems gleamed in the sun overhead, smooth and pure.

Light. White light.

The girl's eyes were open, yet she could not close them against this blinding force. She found that she could not react in any way physically. She was not even aware of her physical self. She felt somewhat.... lighter. Slowly she began to rise, but her body did not follow. It stayed behind, soaking in what she had left of her father, what she had left pumping through her veins.

Escape

The wind whips at the edges of what we are,
luck finds our footfalls clumsy but sure,
wheat whispers past our waists,
leaves stray from their branches just to be closer to us.
Pushing onward, society retreats,
along with boundaries, barters and baggage.
Moving towards where time slows
and our past becomes the far future.
Resending, receding, releasing.

Easy Come, Easy Go

Chance brings us into this life and
chance extracts us from it.

Chance does not lay within the boundaries of fair and not.

Shifters & Projectors

In this beautiful world, our lives are in constant motion, and as social human beings, we have become the most excellent shape shifters. To appear to know someone, and then, like a rabbit through a fence, they’re gone.

Live your life knowing that the moments that are passing can never be duplicated.

We are living through a unique motion picture with a projection for the world to be an audience of.

Let’s put on a good show.

In the midst of memory warehouse

And, here I am, stuck again,
struggling to reinvent myself,
because, you are still provoking days of old.
And, while nothing is ever forgotten,
I will secure the fact that you will be misplaced.
For the sake of my ability to breathe,
And, for the spirit of one day,
uncovering a smile.
So, please, remain tucked and hidden,
like a beautifully long one-sided hide-and-seek.

In This World...

nothing is as it appears to be. We are told to learn to cope, to adapt. And here we are achanging, but the assault doesn't halt. We are not catching breaks. Our breath is never caught. These rapids are never ending; we can see for miles, but that sight might as well be blind, as we cannot distinguish those approaching figures, those obstacles. We cannot prepare ourselves for that leap.

I am a believer in that life is about balance, in our hands and out.
Life runs in cycles. High and low, but in the end, rolling over middle ground.
But, as the days drag on and my soul withers, weakens, with every half minded blow,
I cannot get it out of my head.
'What if this does not balance out?'
'What if on average peoples' lives balance out?'
'One runs to the top, another drowns in poverty and ill morale.'
Would that not balance out?
Would that not equal 0 in the end. Base line. Right?

So, as I drag my feet, plowing onward, I can't help but sing to myself,
"Oh! ye'll take the high road and
I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye;
But me and my true love
Will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond."

But, in the end, statistically, we'll be Even Stevens.

To Give Chase

Within this world, there is so much hate.
Love is found as a jewel lain, buried in silt.
A glimpse of good among the slate gray.
Its gleam is chosen, its time, purposeful.
And the more I search and dig,
the farther beyond my reach it slips
and the shorter my breath becomes.
The struggle is endearing
but is unwarranted
and unrewarded.
All I am looking for is an outlet,
as these walls are seamless
and ever approaching,
encroaching.
My lungs are fighting,
senses are struggling to cope,
convulsing.
The faster you go,
the faster chase it gives.
Always one door slamming
in front of me.
One turn ahead.

Tied to the Hydrant

Running away from this storm is all that incorporates my mind anymore. I feel choked. I feel tethered to everyone else's leash.
When will it reach bottom, so, that I might rise to the top again? I deserve that ascension, but in all logic, I am pushing others harder than I am pushing myself, and so, they will rise.
I am an invisible force.
Incapable of running
off these receding
tracks.
The effort will just leave me
derailed with my interior contents
spread out over this
landscape.

Strain

As much as I want the words to come,
they aren't there.
As much as I want the tears to come,
they aren't there.
With no means to vent,
the tension builds its factory and churns out ruins,
ashes. Crowding overtakes
and my head becomes heavy,
but sleep is not available,
just the dull ache, vision is strained.
More ash...

And the web thickens...

The man sits at his window and looks out on this world

this world that he has spent his life trying to survive.

Below his downcast eyes,

he observes as lives intertwine

and the spider's web grows in strength,

fueled by their intrapersonal affairs.

Stalking Us, Prey.

What lays out in this world is terrain and habitation of a million different types. The offerings of this world are certainly there in their grand numerical sense, but where is the quality control?

Is this world enough for some of us?

Or will this world's natural borders be strayed across into something of the complete unknown?
And I do not deny it's existence.

Something is there.

Something is watching and creeping around the outskirts of the bonfire of our existence.

trying to collapse the tunnels behind me

And this illusion is almost as weary as I am. My soul hangs heavy and mere distractions are the only means of escape from this feeling.
When everyone turns to you, where do you go when it is your turn to be set spun in your own worries? How do you pull off being that faulty hero?
As that flawed gem would, I will also burrow to the bottom of the chest. To lay among fellow impurities, peers, is bliss. To be accepted, to just blend, is divine.
I am not burying myself fast enough, however, as I feel their grip tighten around my ankles. Progress slows, halts, and reverses. Being ripped back and laid upon this Earth, so, that I will never escape those eyes, those burdens.

And to fight only provides

inspiration for the masses,

And to give up only provides

a new direction for the masses.

So, tell me.

In a world where all my actions are right,

why do I feel so wrong?

Fleeting; Silent

Sometimes,

I wonder where

my words go to...

You artful devils escape my mind

without passage through my lips.

I know you are there

playing coy.

Echoes

Sounds emerge and sounds fade.

Within the silence, the air is still heavy.

Silence is not purity.

Silence is what is left when the multitude of sounds suffocate their neighbors.

The reverberations are still there among the masses.

If you would just shut your mouth

and stop encouraging the chaos,

maybe once again,

their beautiful simplicity would ring true.

Eloquent Happenings of the Unconscious & The Question of a Heart's Desires

I need to record these dreams that visit me. These illusions that leave me longing for more. Even the unpleasant visions have me captivated; so vivid. And, it all has meaning, if not significance. My mind's suppressed twitches, and the day's afterthoughts put into color and figures. It all spawned from somewhere; your mind cleaning its filter, forgetting faces, details, happenings. Maybe dreams are these thing's last desperate pleas to not be forgotten, striving to make an impression, a memory held true.
Often come are dreams of ladders, never ending ladders. Upward struggle as means of eluding some advancing peril. Muscles weak, arms and legs of lead, my ascension slows. Getting closer, closer. Breath quickening, panic takes over. Palms slick, grip lost, and I am struggling.
Labyrinths are another frequent guest. I am always pressured. Never at ease. Is this a warning to change, or just a precursor of what will always lie ahead?
And then, there is love lost. Not always a commanding theme, but always present. Lovers dead, lovers lost, or a lover's rejection. And, it is always me that is striving. I am never found or sought. I am the predator, the advancer.
What does that say about me? Self esteem, again, found in the debris. Why is this? Am I alone in this, or is this just how I am best suited?
Maybe that is the tell-tale sign. I am tired, exhausted, from hours of interpretation, to be able to form a conclusion, that always finds itself disproved. I can do so beautifully, meddling in the affairs of others. However, when turned upon myself, I am blind and deaf.

I am flailing, overreacting and dumb.

So insightful, yet, so ignorant. I just want decency. I want, I want, I want. Hmmm?

Good deeds and caring are overlooked. Women love men who treat them bad? Well, the reverse applies as well. We are so self-depreciating that self worth is nonexistent. You lose sight of what would be better, what would be beneficial. Our deservings become ever misconstrued.

Am I to suffer for that?

Seems so.

Immature Rantings

And it all begins again. And the souls begin to march once more. Rose up from their graves for vengeance, for violence. Isn't that what we are all here for? I be lead into lifestyles of disgrace and dishonor. We all strive for it. We are the viral infections of God's master plan. We rained on His parade. Now, we are forsaken, but as always, we revel in this sense of rejection. It quenches our always starving needs. We are the ungrateful bastard children of the world. Waiting to be beaten. Waiting for a reason to lash out. Waiting for our lime light. And, if we don't receive it in honor, we'll steal that, too. Just how we get everything in this world. "Work hard" is now a third world country's mantra. It never got us anywhere. Why should it have? Deceit runs deep in the veins. Honesty doesn't sit well with us. Our economy is deceit and green personified, but we give it a classier look, and people buy in by the millions. It's too easy. No longer a game. We're stealing candy again without any gratification. We have no self worth. It was one for the ages. Too much drama, dry eyes.

Heartless people

Drones

Robots

Government Whores.

Try again. No luck? Or course not. This is not a win situation. You were born to lose. You might as well have been born inside a coffin. The time from Point A to Point B is your waiting room to Death. Your doctor, however, carries a flesh covered trident instead of a stethoscope. And, that's the least of your worries, but at least you're going home. Too bad that accounts for nothing. Absolutely.

Your opinion is shit, and it counts for nothing.

No, your mother doesn't love you.

And yes, you were found in a dumpster

She has not regretted it.

Comfort zone demolished.

You left the oven on.

Your child has been left unattended in the bathtub for hours.

Termites are consuming your home.

You incorrectly filed your income tax return.

Welcome to Hell

Notes Found Drifting From Far Ago

But how could you collect them all and throw them in my face? I don't even know what to say anymore that wouldn't form out of sarcasm and spite... I am not willing to compromise anymore. Not to have my integrity and self worth stripped away from me. No one deserves that.
How many punches have been thrown and how many times have you bit your tongue on my behalf? Never. I will not sit there and slowly absorb your diseases, your haggard war tactics. They will not be ignored for any amount of time in the future. I will catch every slight move. I will not be destroyed. I am a force to be reckoned with. Not to be beaten off with harsh words or jokes made at my expense.

I want to shut you up forever.

If only, if only, I could run away from you. Your wings spread fast and black like night and I am drawn back in, contempt to bite my tongue. Just one more time to spare a broken rib or shattered jaw. The black eyes are just slip ups, accidents.

Just get it over with. We all know there is nothing I can do. Nothing. No precautionary methods. I am done for. Finished. My emotional self is destroyed. Physical self is trudging along, I'll heal. Let the bullets tear through my guts. Put one in my head. Brain cells diminished. Functions ceased. Rendered dead. Done. Forever gone.

Please, no reincarnation.

Not unless the coming world needs a fiend to wreck havoc.

Take no more from me. I lay motionless on your tile and you can only think of where it could have gone. Dwelling. Leading me to hell with something that was built from your dishonor, lack of loyalty, and lies.

I will look for promising traits, a possible savior, but they turn away. All away. Fake my feelings. Tired of it all. Counsel me. Observe what you want. Are the symptoms obvious? Am I grotesque?

Untimely obsessions with violence and death.

Why better way to spend your time in the waiting room,

but reading and wondering about what the wait is truly for?

Too many go crazy and try to make an understanding of it all. There is nothing to understand. Just do the dead man's float until some other soul taps you on the shoulder to offer you a cigarette break. Then, you're back on. To serve your purpose.

Remain calm, there is no help on the way.

Is it endless? Listen to yourself. There is nothing to look forward to. Oh my, how everything is bland. Sober. Unreeling.

You should be shot.

Is that all she bled for?

All she waited for?

I am no remedy, no serum. My blood is sick and runs so thin.

Money is no lie, but it will purchase lies, quiet lies.

Point to Me

So, where do I need to go?
So, what do I need to do?
So, who do I need to meet?

Do I have good enough qualities

to get me through life purely on the

good graces of others?

Or will it end with just being

a bar maid in another dying town?

Or would that be enough for me?

Am I looking for love?

Am I looking for sustenance?

Why so restless?

Why so heavy hearted?

Does everyone go through this?

Or am I unique?

Is this something to just wait out?

The Coming of the Past

Childhood memories leave warm tears in my eyes. Fighting to restrain suppressed feelings. Just wanting not for it to be forgotten, but wanting them under ties and frozen still.
However, they are increasingly more present. I do not have the time, nor the patience.

Nor the temperament.

Tick Tock

What is the point of all of this? All of my idols and leaders did not take this path that I am following. Do I have what it takes? I am just spinning my wheels here. I just yearn to be carried off, the means make no difference to me.

I want the wind in my hair.

I want the sun on my shoulders.

I need those sights in my eyes.

I need those sounds in my ears.

I am going to have that light heart.

I will have that wise mind.

I will be the essence of experience.

I embody achievement.

the marrow in my bones sighs

I feel as if winter has come and overstayed its welcome.
I feel listless.
Too many things are hanging over my head,
and there is nothing more that I want than to lose strength and resort to my dirtiest tricks.

"You'll be on my mind forever,"

Things were just so easy.. It seemed as if one lost soul had found another. And as I recognize traits in others that I appreciate, my mind always drifts back to you. For once, I wasn't trying too hard. There was no use to. And, even though your apologies would be found frequent and seemingly sincere, I am allowing you to reside in your bliss for as long as it may last, because even now, I only wish you the best.
Thoughts of our future slowly dissipate, as a pleasant dream would. Aren't those two things growing more similar now? Almost interchangeable.
As proved, dearest, history does repeat itself. I do hope that eventually you may change your ways. This drifting and resentment are not becoming.
Our inner workings are complex, and keep us restless and conflicted. I faced this sooner, and apparent is the realization that you require more time, and with it, more heartbreak.
And, as I would need to cry, I could not do so without smiling. So many good times. We never fought. We were above that.
However, with my eventual absence, I knew that it was inescapable. Acting almost on instincts, you strayed.

You look more ragged now.

You are weakened.

If only you took better care of yourself. That is the most painful for me to see.

And maybe, if you would have found your self worth, things would have been different. Maybe, we would not have had our time together. Maybe you would have already found yourself settled.

I do not wish for you to walk back through those doors. You are still conflicted.

Time is a jester of fates, and as always is the possibility, one day we could find ourselves back again.

Time heals all wounds, but it does not cure disloyalties. And perhaps, to be put into view of your new situation would allow me more emotional anguish, but neither one of us would wish for that.

And, as some would view it as not fighting for you, it is quite the opposite. I hope your learning continues. I hope for your happiness. I am posing as my own individual, however, and I must defend myself, and it is not for you, that I will sacrifice my own being for a small grace period of time together before you stray again. And, let that be a lesson.

That is why I let go,

to let you drift a little further downstream,

before you realize the need to fight your way against the current,

if that ever may be the case.

Am I Finding Myself In This Rut?

And as you receive a new wave of confidence and hope, what else is expected to happen than something to knock you back down?

Everything, of course, does not revolve

around me, but I feel made a

mockery of, for everyone else's

amusement.

I miss the days, if they were ever there, when things just happened with ease. A mention of simpler times again, I suppose.

Wanting to break free again is ever present. I must move forward and onward, or else, I am only leaving myself the choice of turning back upon the old.

I was told, upon remembrance by an old classmate, that I always had my head on straight. And even now, as I struggle amid the water, gasping for air, how could that ever have been?

I am not helpless,

just frustrated is all.

The things that come easy are the things that I do not want. What is present are always the situations that are a result of confusion and misleading, just drawing me deeper down. And, as I work for what I deserve, those complications make themselves present and divert me once again.

The acceptance of something below my standards finds me tied down, wasting time, and letting myself drop further.

Reconstruction Ahead

Enters is the time of self improvement, which will in turn, prove to be an improvement of all. I am vowing to take the time to do something good for myself everyday. If I treat myself better, I will treat others better. I must live as an example. I will not be caught up in the drama that is unbecoming of me. Live and let live.

You can't please all,

but, you don't need to, as you do please who is important.

Etiquette?

And as men falter, it is seen as just fitting into the male stereotype. However, with women, it is a different game altogether. Double standards ever present. Women are just as careless and disloyal. And yet, we are also extremely jealous, catty, vindictive human beings. Should etiquette really always be to treat and praise women? We are just as crude, if not worse. It is just that we are quicker to point out the flaws of others, simultaneously, casting ourselves in the better light.

But, is it really deserved?

Slumber

Sleep is so gorgeous. Sleep & showers. It is like wiping the slate clean.

What's more beautiful than taking a vacation every night as soon as you close your eyes?

Chilled Incoming Air

'Clean your mind, now's the time."

This city again confines me to this 'cage'. I just want to venture out and look. Feel the incoming cold air for what it is, fresh and crisp. It leaves you more alert, in prime condition to observe, if it also didn't leave me so damned giddy. Too many people take for granted how wonderful this weather is.

Signed 'With Unconditional Love'

I am getting to love myself unconditionally, as I return to who I really am. It is a beautiful feeling, as it is returning to my natural state, my resting point. Things come easier without false ploys to uphold.

I am still suffering from it, but recovery is painless and ever accelerating.

With What I Have Been Dealt

Sometimes life deals you lovers, and you forget that they, as everything does, will come and go. Instead, we want to cling for dear life, as if we are under the belief that there will be no others.

I have rid myself of this extra baggage and stress, and I can't help but to smile. I feel lighter, I don't know why I subjected myself to that torture.

Straying lovers, let them go

Don't lower yourself into their self created mess, as it is not worth it. If their heart will not rest with you, then there is nothing more there. You can attempt to feign love, and as the oasis looks as tempting and real as ever, it is but a false facade of a barren land.

My Return

Long enough have I taken this detrimental vacation from myself. I can only house my thoughts for so long before it backs up and its heaviness spills back upon my soul.

It is time to clean.

It is time to revamp,

because what I have become is not natural. It feels forced and horribly dense. No more. Digging is in line. Time is passing by and long enough has it passed without my personal input.

It is time to dig my heels into the sand, and properly convey my emotions.

People's souls are often lost in translation.

We find the need to want to define who we are, and yet it is always preached that every single one of us is unique. We are habitual conformists, because we are afraid to be alone. Alone with who we really are, if that is even possible at that point. It is hard to strip away years of assumptions, but that doesn't mean that it is not worth it.

I think often we seek out the companionship of others, because we are unwilling to look within ourselves, because we are unexpectant of what we actually might find. We, then, become somewhat 'embodied' in this person, often leaving our own true feelings in the gutter. Focusing solely on this other being, and when they turn from us, it hurts so bad. We often demand reason for their decision, as we are still too oblivious of ourselves to even put the effort into evaluate where we truly stand. This becomes a notch in our psyche, effecting our future relationships, as well, as we then associate ourselves with not being good enough. Further cheating ourselves through subconscious sabotaging of what our souls could do so beautifully with.

And, I am not without fault. Even as I am writing this, I am living this sabotaged life.

It is the 'curse' of the observer's life. As we look and identify, and record what exactly we are seeing as means of reflection, it is not always reflected upon ourselves. Often, we are left to help others, while our own hypocrisy sits and stares blankly.

We are often main contributors to these issues, as we are then working from the inside, interior members of the workings of these beasts.

Is is often forgotten to lead by example.

Something's gotta change.

This Is Now

I am not what someone else perceives me to be. I will not continually short myself, because that is what life usually deals me. I will work hard to earn what I strive for. Even as this means a break in the spirit and the loss of routine. I will not cower from change.

As of right now, change is welcome. And, while I grow homesick from where I am, I need to be liberated. Stuck in the same rut, it wears on my soul. And while the city offers its own breed of excitement, and a variety of personalities... I believe that intolerance is ever present.

And it is possible that it is just the case in this city, but I believe the hectic atmosphere, while fulfilling for a time, feeds into someone who I do not want to be.

I am an old soul that craves Earth's oldest cage to house me. I love being somewhere that has history enough to feel. Modern technology is inescapable, but such dependence that is here is choking. If it were solely my decision, I wouldn't even have a phone. I don't know if I would even have a clock.

We are at the beck and call of our machines. It is restricting not only to our time and routine, but also to our actions and responses. We are bound by our own devices.

I am observer by nature.

I want to live somewhere that will feed my passion,

and lighten my soul.

Hassle free, natural beauty.

I miss just walking. Mindless walking. And while there are retreats in this area, and they do offer a breathtaking beauty, they are being worn upon. Not by nature's gentle hand, but by our general carelessness that leads us to overlook the simplest of pleasures.

We have built many industries upon these strikingly complex attempts to manufacture human happiness.

Chemically composed fakes.

Layers and layers of lies.

And what else do we do but ingest these poisons? We lose touch with what single, naturally occurring thing can lighten the heaviest burden on your strained heart.

Simplicity does not mask beauty. It doesn't create illusions and complexities that hide what is given to us, and while complexity holds a far different, but equally necessary purpose, some souls need to drift back to the basics.

Just breathe.

Words are not always needed, and while some souls may find themselves conflicted upon one another in a hectic society, when removed, get along beautifully. Our manic ways warp our personal views and output. So many are hiding who they are, and not as a defense mechanism.

We have been warped.

That is where the darkness stops.

This is the divider in between then and now.

Let it be respected.

Room to Breathe

Our bodies are amazing things, for which we have little respect for. A beautiful organism that is completely contempt in carrying out our mind's wishes. Complaining is in the slightest.

So, why is your shadow crying, now?

Is it because your actions have poisoned it, too? It, too, like the rest, has become so morally unwell, that it is no longer able to follow you and your lies.

So, why are you crying, now?

Careful, now

Our love is a porcelain ring

ever so temperate

ever so fragile.

Solo

And this pain digs itself in.
Deeper and deeper until the tears rush out.
The nerve responses are crippling.
And the screams find me deafened.
How convenient.
I must count myself blessed.
As I no longer can hear your lies.

And, take a step to the side

In the end, it will all burn. All will die. But who is not to say our exact mistakes are not being recreated in some sideshow somewhere else, where we will once again play the unfortunate bad influence on the blooming minds of some distant kind of folk.

What to do with my Sundays?

I'd rather abstain from basing my entire life on one false hope. I'd rather not waste approximately 9000 hours of my life in ignorance, by the time I'm 75 years of age, and that's only if I spend, on average, 2.5 hours a week in church/religious oriented functions. Plus, that's not counting holidays or observed religious celebrations. I'm sure that nearly doubles the above statistic.

So, please tell me how I'm wasting my life away.

And, I will tell you that I am a realistic individual,

who has her own idea of what is right for her.

And it is not a god, nor a superficial being.

It's self worth,

And I'll let that take the wheel.

So, there is a god.

Somewhere.

That makes it rain.

That let's us drown.

And then, it hit me

When a light opened from above, I wished and assumed the best. Slowly, the glare cleared, and finally, I was enlightened. As, I was struck dead by the speeding car.

Wonderment

I suppose I deserve a life alone. For, I have ruined the course of so many others, it's only fair. If only my mind was born into the correct body, maybe less harm would have come of it. Maybe, then I could have made him love. Truly love, but it was just some cruel joke. He would have followed me anywhere. Done anything. And I left it dragging on the rocks for far too long to even begin to think of recovery. And, then, I wonder if he still thinks of me.

I was a different person, then. It was easier to pretend that I liked myself. I tried to live out my promises, and, then, everything changed and I did, too.

And my heart breaks with every ring.

My soul lessens with every doubt.

Regret blossoms with the glances you cast.

This is what I am.

Lesson to be Learned

I cannot be replaced. Your ignorance is blinding. Material possessions will offer your grief stricken heart no relief. Nor will the countless brauds you let lie in your bed, where you committed yourself to me. That night, I stole your trust only to let you see how bad it hurts to be on your own again. To let you know, to let you experience the feeling of not feeling worthy. For anyone.

Little Drummer Boy

Your death is near.
Just one more rat-a-tat-tat.
And, you'll be blown to smitherines.

Flailing

You leave it to me, to destroy at my leisure. You make no attempt to slow or stop the process. You sit patiently and watch me tread so lightly, waiting for the final flinch. Waiting for you to snap. No warning signs. I'm acting blind in bomb-filled land. One misstep and I'll be gone. And, then the polluted air will refresh your lungs as you come to finally breathe easy as you hose my intestines down into the sewer drain.

What My Talent Is

There's no substance to this soul. Just some caffeine fueled antics that have found themselves failed miserably. And, yet still, they find passage through these wind burned lips. Carried by rancid breath from a condemned mind, putting out mixed signals met by blank stares and threats. Painfully, never carried out.

Seeking Protection

Engulf me, flame. Bring unto me your warmth. Kill my senses. Kill that ever following darkness. Let me find shelter in your blazing figure. Shield me with your light.

Tell me you love me.

Empty

All the life is gone.

Our simple bacterial mistake is erased.

Clean slate.

Never to return again.

Self Assurance

My pride is broken shattered, left for dead.
Dignity is a fleeting shadow.
But, I'm running ten years strong.
Doubt me, and you'll catch it across the face.

Fanciful Delusion

I thought I loved
but not at all
doubt pushed and shoved
it became the cause of our fall

but not at all
was this love true
it became the cause of our fall
gone was our bond, gone were you

was this love true
no, just another illusion
gone was our bond, gone were you
again, a fanciful delusion

no, just another illusion
doubt pushed and shoved
again, a fanciful delusion
I thought I loved.

To Create the Perfect Reflection

With ink on my paper
acting as pigment on my canvas
I paint the life I wish I had
I paint myself a present dad
I pick up some beauty and paint some looks,
equivalent to my knowledge of books.
I paint myself a figure a little less bigger.
I paint fortune and fame, some talent.
I paint myself perfect without any scars.

And with that paint, I have created something new, that is not at all me. I've painted me the way that people want me to be.

The before and after are amazing specimens. Just waiting to be poked and prodded.

Agua

The lightness of the water
on top of my body
gives me the reassurence I need
from the man he could not be.

Epitaphs

Here lies a man, dark and dreary
who is at last done
being so leery
about that ever glowing sun.

Dressed all in black,

immune system lack,

he tried to live,

he attempted to give

a needy man a dollar

but picked up germs from the man's collar.

in the darkness, only you are there

Your presense sensed, eyes too heavy to open. My pulse is racing. My heart is in my throat. Did I twitch, did you notice? My breathing is soon to become whimpers. My focus is on staying steady, not moving. I strain to hear you, yet a fraction of a move could mean the worst for me.

Where are you?

Why have you preyed upon me, yet again?

This is it.

Eyes open.

Nothing.

You haunt me.

'Happy' Place

Lying on the forest floor, looking out upon the sky. Smelling the damp underwood and feeling the crisp night breeze whipping at my hair. Cold enough to keep me awake and interested, but oddly comforting. Looking upon the pitch black, everlasting universe peeping out between the openings of the forest canopy, attempting to drape every thing in its darkness. Keeping it from reaching it's goal, the stars shine with the purest of light, as if they were traffic lights for the planets. Oh, to feel ageless, enlightened without any burdens. Love the feeling that you have control over everything, and yet, no responsibilities. Sinking in to the soft undergrowth and being overwhelmed with the scent of nature at its purest; relishing in the thoughts and feelings of the purest comforts that no amount of money could purchase or arrange. Just to be listening to absolute silence, to the point where my concentration is so great, that all I can think about is nothing. Again, the realization that the stars are shining so bright, as if their rays were reaching down and lifting me up into the highest of all heavens, and yet, you realize that you're already in it, and again, you're placed upon the bed of the earth, letting all your senses, every nerve, race with excitement as the breeze sends you into pure bliss.

Dedication

'To the ones who have slipped into the mirror,

and the ones who reflect it in their eyes.

To the ones who must hide everything,

and to the ones who lose what they hide.

To the ones who cannot be silent,

and the ones who must lie.'

-Whitley Strieber

Chapter One: The Stabbing

Why must you leave me here shattered and bleeding
figure that with your knife fit snug and securely in place
that eventually my body will lie still, not breathing

As a memoir of our time together, you'll frame my face
using razor blades and bullet casings
the salts of my tears flow into these wounds
overwhelming the nerve endings with waves of searing pain
cut my heart's strings and my nerves' lacings

As I lay here null and void
I only hear as you walk away
with victim's eyes in hand.

To Be Muted & Alone

A lonely feeling
encompasses me.
I feel as if I'm in
a dark and dreadful dream.

The colors are
all muted and dull.
A minute ticks by
in hours.
And that, too, is numb.

My soul aches
so badly
when, I'm here
all alone.
I wish for just a spark of light,
here in this dark hole.

Everyone has abandoned
me,
left me here alone.
Why didn't anyone care?
Why did they just watch me cry?
And, when you were the only one
left,
why did you decide to watch me die?

Lost Souls Loved

He vowed to a life of silence, exile.
the feeling he had resembled viral stomach bile
he sat and waited
watched as the grasshoppers mated
he longed for a life of so much more
a life oblivious of bore
he wanted a woman, a lover, a soul
that would let him see the glass half full
gone would be his life as a hermit
he would find his Miss Piggy,and he shall be Kermit
he strolled down the street
unaware that there we would meet
a bold and vivacious girl
a girl he was willing to take for a whirl
she smiled and winked
instantaneously, their souls linked
she asked only one question
wanting to assure his affection
"will you walk with me, stud?"
'oh, please don't let this girl be a dud'
is what he thought
'for you're the one that I have sought'
and there they kissed,
but they shall be missed,
as the car tried to stop,
death had already let the scythe drop.

The Scene

Burned tires,

blood soaked leather,

knife punctured seats,

out of tune radio,

shattered windshield,

broken speedometer,

burned out headlights,

snapped antenna,

illegal plates,

stuffed trunk.

An economy-sized massacre.

An Example

I'm falling apart, I cannot be me. It's too hard. Lower me down. Let me drown. Make me an example. An example to those who are lost of what not to be.

Oh, I'll watch you, watch over you. Offer advice, but that's all. If not respected, I disappear. If you branch off from my path, then you'll find yourself without my guidance, without my confessions. Outside of my own experience, then I'm thoughtless. I have no right to opinion, I would be acting purely on ignorance.

I conquer. Conquer I.

Childhood escaped me, left me with the need to mature, the need to understand your fights, the abandonment. To read through your excuses, your goodbyes. Maybe I didn't grow in time. Maybe that was your point. To send me into a tailspin. To fast forward my grief, only to relive it in slow motion in the matter of my lifetime

I question all.

I conquer.

Conquer I.

'Tomorrow's come too soon.'

I've lived through my adult years a multitude of times in dreams, but I never live long. Am I destined to die like all those before me? Is this that restless feeling?

The questioning faith, the morbid sense of humor, the meaningless souls shaken tears, the absence of breath, cold skin, stopped heart, blank stare, the lost soul.

Bet on Black

Were you my love? Give me a sign, for I miss you, so. Who are you? You're not the one... no, no, you're different. Thee without the facade. Love abandoned. My love is placed on lies, impulses. Place me in the casino where I might be useful.

You could be my love.

It's your turn down

I can't be here alone. Never falter through my thick and thins. "I'll get better" is the ever-spoken promise, but will it ever be? Sorry, it must be hereditary. Pass me another.

Simplicity?

Maybe life is as simple as that. Is there nothing else? Nothing to preoccupy us until the gates open in our favor... it's such a long wait for some of us.

Was suicide the means of the impatient ones?

The Demise

And as the lights flicker, I'll be sitting in my old termite ridden chair, waiting for the end to claim me. The screams of the commoners are heard but rejected. The darkness has no weakness, no mercy. Better save your breath, you'll need it, the darkness is coming closer, sooner. Don't you hear the steady destruction of all we love? Love, the darkness will consume that, too. This darkness won't let us down, won't abandon us. We created it, we raised it, we spread it. Now we can't take it back. It's worldwide. It stirs the emotions that it, itself, is. We further fuel it. We bathe ourselves in its ugliness.

You better swim.

I'll wait, I contributed. I will pay my price. Time to cash in. I'm not asking for forgiveness. It's too late for that. We should have lived. We're too far gone for that. The one spot of warmth left in my heart is embodied in you. Too bad, for you'll pay for our hate as well.

Take me, I'm ready to go.

Let me live without this.

Absense

I want to leave this place.
Leave this Earth.
This planet has nothing on me.
Send me off as a lone venturer.
Set me adrift,
set me ablaze,
set me aspin.

'Feelin' pretty is so hard'

I want my calling. I want to experience the pull. For once, I want to feel purpose, I want to feel meaningful life, not floating though this olive drab piece of shit land. I'm so sick of it. Why have choices when we are not allowed to make them?

'Fairweather Johnson'

I heard that it is going to be all fair weather from here on out, but the man who was speaking belonged to the wind. He had no ties, for he had lost everything. Or, was he truly a prisoner of freedom? Is he not filled with the pains of regret of what could have once been?

How would I shape others?

I really don't present myself as a person who should be followed after as a leader.
And yet, here I am on the podium, a false facade for the masses.

Striving & Thriving

I strive on my independence, but am left quivering in the rejection You and I are not worth the five minutes of dedication or support. We repulse like magnets and throw the other one around.

I'll cheer from the sidelines and pin you to the ground, and then flick my ashes one last time and drop dead. Down, down, done.

I aim to please.

Needs

I need a bottle, a chisel, and a panel of clean flesh to carve upon. A bottle to quiet the long overstayed voices, the ones who heckle, who ruin all that's left. A chisel to pry open my ransacked heart, for all to peer upon, to scavenge and hunt. And the clean flesh to tell the story of a girl lost and cold, who drowned herself in alcohol, just to make herself feel whole.

I give the others the false sense

of love, to get them drunk, to

make them vulnerable. In this,

I feast upon them and leave

my mark, giving them all the drama

and the bullshit that they all want.

It's a day I'm glad I survived

Drug poisoned eyes blinded shut by the drinks. I never grasped your true concept, nearly took it for granted. I wish for forgiveness, but have long been deemed forsaken. I regret my foul words, my sins and my grudges. I seek guidance from the only One who truly knows, but am shown away once, twice, thrice, at the gates.

As I shuffle away and fall back to the Earth, I turn and mumble, "This is why I never prayed."

Let me be the one

For once in my life, let me be the one. I know you always say 'You're the one for me right now', but how long is that going to last? I know that I banished all certainty, but I feel as if you being around her will bring up old emotions and I cannot lose you. I know that you'd never cheat, but losing your heart would be far worse than you cheating with her. If she has that from you, or even just a spark, then I've lost the war, and tell me now. For the sake of you losing your soul mate and the easier breaking for me, just tell me. I cannot bear the gossip and denial of it all, if in the end, you're going to prove it true. I've lost you again. I may have you physically, but I'd give anything to have your love, your true, honest love. Not just be a placeholder until she breaks up with hers and you're awaiting her with open arms. That'd kill me. For once, I want someone that I'm not at fear will never really love me. I want emotional stability, for once, just once. So, leave me companionless.

I have let them all go to make myself better for you, because you deserve that, but I'm still trying. Don't let that be in vain. No, not again. I've faced a lot, but I'm willing to face it all.

Be completely aware of what you're leaving behind. I think that I am owed at least that.

'Down the Cave of Mind... Hypnosis'

But wouldn't a pathological liar still lie while under hypnosis? Only telling the psychiatrist what he or she wants to hear, because neither doctor nor patient wants to be there, and the matter of money tears them farther apart. The liar craves the drama presented by them spinning their web to the shrink, but then despise them for actually wanting to probe, for they only crave an audience whose feedback only fuels their lies, because they, in no way, represent themselves and their actual mental state. It serves, in no way, therapeutic, but the predator makes fake breakthroughs to not seem as a complete lost cause, but then take a down turn, putting them at square one of a whole new mental board game.

Chutes & Ladders

Ever?

Have you ever dreamt of a wolf you raised, one day turned into a man, who you entered into street fights, then moved to London with, and had never-ending sex while questioning an elderly gentleman about the time change?

Well, I did.

Does Every Thing Eat Its Own?

Just to lay on the beach, let the tide draw me into the seas of the greater ocean, encompassing my body, lulling my senses, flowing over me, settling me into it's depths, the light fades and my hair spreads over my likeness, as I fall head heavy down, and the water seeps into my lungs and enters my brain, and I'm at once peaceful, as my eyes flutter open one last time to acknowledge my passing, and I reach for you, and I hope that you understand.

Angel, tell me... please, can't you see?

This Ain't A Warning

I just can't get my life straight, everything's in a downward spiral and as we get nearer to our crashing point, I begin to notice that we are falling at an increasing rate, spinning, screaming, crying. I have one constant to fall back on and that's you, and even now, my destructive tendencies are wearing on us all. I'm trying to detach myself from those who are wearing me down, but it's so damn difficult because they are the one's that have been with me the longest, the one's who swore to keep constant. They're gone now and I feel a little better, but then again, I haven't come into contact with them yet, haven't seen their public reaction, how badly this will all go for me. Supposedly, it's always my fault. I just have to keep moving on. Please, move on with me, you're the only one left and I'm not ready to lose you.

The silence drives me crazy

The wind lulls me to sleep, the whispers set me ablaze, the alcohol runs freely, and I'm left without an excuse. Case record closed, Dad. Once again, my whole again is ripped to shreds at no one's blame but my own. You were right, there seems to be a pattern.

May your soul rise higher and faster than mine.

Die young and save yourself

Is that what you were thinking? No note, no explanation. Did you think that no one would understand? You left a wound, an ugly one at that, if it would ever heal, the scar would revel burn victims, but it is reopened daily. The mere mention of a name that even beckons at the silhouette of yours sends blood to the tile, tears to the sleeve, flesh to the knife. I am what's left.

Let me alone to be my One of Desultory

float along the cadavers

briskly meeting fingertips

slowly trekking teardrops.

You're my soul's grated down, settle for less, standards mate

People have one set 'soul mate' in life. One person that coexists perfectly with them. To settle with anyone else is selling yourself short. You're also wasting your, and the chosen victim's, time. Well, what about those old timers who've been married for 60+ years? Are they all 'instant clickers'? No, their standards for their one ideal mate have been grating against each other for so long, that they now fit together. So, later on in life, when that supreme mate makes its appearance, that supposed 'ideal' couple no longer clicks. For the mold has been warped, no longer one's true wantings. We sell ourselves short once again. It's okay, though, we've been doing it for years.

You just don't get it. You've found yours, and you're not even trying. Let it slip away with the passing moment. What's sad is as I'm instructing you in these newly revealed ways, I'm rejecting myself again. Mass-self destruction. On track for one more round. Sad pings of regret, remorse, longing.

"My soul has grown deep like the rivers," - Langston Hughes

...and once again shallow with drought.

Is complete knowledge of the world ever to be attained?

For we are always changing, adapting & advancing. There's too much guesswork involved. Starting with the first scientist, mighty with discovery, was asked a question about his new-found marvel. Anxiety stricken, as he was without an answer, he made one up. Only creating more & more bullshit lies. Are we that naive? Or just lazy? Or are we unwilling to accept that human error is not some fireside legend? We are too believing. We have yet to broaden our horizons, our mind. We have yet to sift through the arrogance, panic, lies. We simply nod our heads, as it is the easy way out. Instead of questioning when we should; the whys & hows. Let the skeptic in all of us run free for once. Let him quench his thirst for justice, for qualification. We let things ride without a single raised eyebrow or nervous tick. One simply question could break their string of lies. Teach them the always cliche 'best policy', honesty. Let us for once, bathe in truths, not drown in lies. Deep down, it's bred. Question even ourselves. The most important change branches from one's self. Don't be their rag doll. Stand up. Shatter their offense. Show them light, dark. Let them accept it. Slowly let them peer upon the decades of mistrust.

Oh, written by a true skeptic.

&

'Now I'm nailed above you
gushing from my side
It's with your sins
that you have killed me
thinking of your sins I die
thinking how You'd let them touch you
How you'd never realize
that I'm ripped and hang forsaken
Knowing never will I rise
again.'

-Franz Ferdinand

Astrology:

Just because a group of people are born within the same 30 or so days, we can all be pitted in one category, acting this way or falling in love on this day. Tis unbelievable with immaculate accuracy towards me.

Is love one of life's necessities?

Human beings crave another human's attention & nurturing. Is it just an after effect of being pushed forth by our mothers? Even the most independent souls need love. Life ceases to exist without love. To give love may fill some, but not the entire void we carry with us until our demise. No matter the individual, we all strive to be loved, to be the object that consumes another human being's attention. But, then we become arrogant, we play around with that person's emotions, seeing how horribly warped we can make them. Jealousy, envy. We fill them with false hopes, only leave them on the floor, weeping with the throws of rejection. But, when we receive that one love, it swells inside us. It makes us 'weak at the knees'. Just to see that person is counted as a day complete. It recolors our world as we once saw it, then dull and dreary. It begins to flood our senses.

Explanation of a Morbid Sense of Humor...

Q: So, why do you always wear overalls?

A: "Well, I was molested as a young child. So, now, I must live with the constant fear that my pants will fall down." - Uncle Jeff