based on a true story happening all around you...
Could love grow from the darkest of corners?
Can the hope or existence of a small shred of it on the horizon turn stone mentality into living and breathing beauty?
A diary of twos,
less a love story than a horror,
an account of hope that perhaps we will not all be burdened forever with unhappy endings.
I’m told I’m soulless...
the stench of inaccuracy...
I treat you as I see you,
so if one doesn’t see a soul...
and I see you as nothing more,
my weapons are aimed,
awaiting more fodder of retaliation,
and I can no longer tell the days apart,
I look forward to waking up emerged in vengeance,
though no targets in sight,
stopped caring what others thought long ago,
this beauty skin deep,
under smooth feminine cells shimmering,
lives as true a demon as I’ve ever seen,
can’t hurt something not alive,
shut off for what seems an eternity,
and you are all dead to me.
This drink soothes nothing,
and I bless this cave of sweltering filth with my mortal shell,
caring how the world went I could have been a surgeon or something demanding attention,
but I think I’ve given all the limbs I want chewed,
I think the last I helped came way too soon,
and I like watching customers swoon,
they are always worse off than I,
their desperation keeps my revenge settled,
the score here is even,
I may be used,
but their minds are the only thing being abused.
Crawled out of bed before dark today,
seeing how the other half live...
replaced the solemn bag of takeout with a walk to the store,
I see some eyes hungry for my profession,
I guess I dress in neglect of salvation,
I watch other glares scrape me out of disapproval or jealousy,
I’ve taken all I can take,
I’m going back to bed till I have to wake.
Another gust of a warmth of feeling,
like dipping into oceans blue,
out of my concrete stasis,
but the more I look for it,
the less I see,
washed over with a certain peace so out of place,
you’ve landed at a dry husk,
but I come to life after dusk.
As he enters the space,
time is sucked away,
moments stretch to nothing yet everything,
brushing a certain tranquility,
for a spell I’m no longer in my iron chains...
then I look for him in my surroundings,
guide me to only endings,
and I sit and stare into the air,
wondering if the drugs still course through my veins...
if this is a chemical high and not a lifeboat I did predict,
then I fear I will become a pill addict.
I Was a Person Once
I did exist in reality,
but not one anyone cared to notice,
I could swear I was there through at least a part of the days I lived,
and maybe even once or twice something occurred that brought on some feeling of emotion.
I swear I was a person once,
maybe was even worth talking to,
now I fear I just stare through you,
if I was ever to be reached,
I suspect you’d need to be lost with me to arrive to me.
My sensuality is myself,
and unless you know me on that plane,
you don’t know me,
because that is me.
When I lust you,
you see me,
because that is more natural than any artificiality.
and it’s perfect.
It’s the greatest power,
a magic beyond reproach,
it’s the fire in which I choose to let myself show,
and to have it consume you,
is rarity indeed,
you are but a select audience,
shown the hidden treasure beneath the cover.
The idea of real love terrifies me.
I wake up in sweats when I’ve dreamt about being overtaken,
it puts my stomach in knots and I am truly frightened.
I never want to be that vulnerable again,
don’t want to feel like the moments don’t matter without another,
total darkness when they leave,
I can’t take that again,
I’ll cover it over with a string of sins,
leading from yesterday all the way until my furthest tomorrow,
will even remotely find me under all the rubble,
I’ll kill all that I am inside,
before you get a chance to.
I thought not having you was bad,
but looking back,
to lose you after having you was worse,
much much worse,
and therefore you remain a million miles away.
Trying to sort out the days going by,
as I lay in the tub wondering if I'll live tomorrow,
zombie looking like a barbie,
I see your mouths moving but it's just white noise in my face,
I just see a coffin wearing his face,
here in my youth I cringe at the cruelty of this joke from God,
so many years to go alone,
sick world I'm spinning in,
all I seem to have is a form that others still recognize,
men falling over my ghostly absent steps,
I see no future,
I feel no comfort,
food goes down and comes up again,
my urges are in negatives,
I want less,
I need less,
just want silence,
a type of bliss.
I’ve denied myself from you far too long,
whoever you are,
whatever you will be,
I want to see things the way you see.
My demons are not demons,
they are lovers,
they are enchantment,
they persuade all movement to move,
they beguile me,
make me never come up for air.
I don’t need you for sheltered sustenance,
don’t want a child to bear,
don’t want anything at all,
except your presence there.
Where this reality meets the haze of a dream,
this inescapable stream,
needing nothing but nonetheless the need,
but I’m over my greed,
don’t plant your seed,
just whisper behind me,
tell me all I want to see.