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.