Fraud

Where am I going?
Where did I lose myself?
Did the real me drown amid the crashing waves?

What am I doing?
What is the plan now?
What do I do with this terrified shell that remains?

What can I do,
What can I say,
Was I fraud then, or am I now?

Is this a new beginning,
Or just the end of an age?
I'm all questions with no answers in sight.

I hear their laughter,
I feel my tears,
Is this cowardess or is it growth?

I don't know where tomorrow leads,
One more song,
Or never again.

I don't if I should bow
Or if I should run,
Am I wanted here more than I want to be gone?

What can I do,
What can I say,
Was I a fraud then, or am I now?

Forcing Myself Over You

With his hands around my throat I can momentarily forget about your touch,
You slip from my mind like the breath from my burning lungs,
His frightening eyes help me focus on a face that isn't yours, centering me to a moment free of your voice.

You are the only thing standing between us,
You are the one driving me into his arms.

The stab of pain, the surge of pleasure, both are the work of his hands,
Cast away from all but this, I seek out this regret and remorse to feel, to belong.
My heart, beating out of rhythm and far too fast, responds to the rough handling his passion imbues.

You are the only thing standing between us,
You are the one driving me into his arms.

Trapped

In my dreams, I'm trapped, begging, beaten, degraded
And in those moments after I awake, I understand her.
I see the world through her eyes
And I understand why she's afraid
To fight, to feel, to try not to die.
Because as wonderful as freedom feels,
Returning to captivity hurts far, far more.

I may want to fly
I may want to feel human
To be normal
But the cost is so great
It's just so hard not to feel trapped when you are.

I see her in my memory and she haunts me
I helped her as best I could but I was trapped too,
By my own life, my own pain, by my own struggle
And though she forgives me
I can't help but wonder in these moments
How hard it must be be for her to laugh, to trust
And I feel ashamed.

I may want to fly
I may want to feel no pain,
To be free,
But I'm trapped here in this cycle
And all that is standing in my way is me.

What I want the most is to be sure
Of any step, of any touch, of any smile
And if she can...Well, then I guess, so can I.

Arizona

My beloved friend
I wish that there was anything to say
That would help
That would heal
And not harm
But any truthful statement
Is one more dagger
In your back

My would be lover
I would give all but eternity
If only this was not an issue
If only we could be
Our love could grow
But we're broken
Far too broken to be whole
Too far gone to be together

My heart's desire
Your arms were my oasis
Your love was my solace
But I cannot
Regardless of wish
Our realities too different
Our destination in conflict
And my love just not strong enough

The Black Widow

Why so grim, my lover?
Why so pale and low?
Why are your lips unmoving?
Why are your hands so cold?

Why do you look surprised, my heart?
Why do you stare aghast?
Why did you not see this coming?
Why did you not run and hide?

Why so bleak, my darling?
Why so still and small?
Why is your odor ominous?
Why is your breath no more?

Eulogy for the Walking Wounded of Tomorrow

Carve us out with pen and paper.
Build our souls with clinical words.
You see what you want to see,
Self-fulfilling fantasies.
You have no clue who we really are.

No one wants to see the truth,
No one wants to face this reality,
The flowers bloom to wilt too soon.

This generation raised by Disney, pedophiles and McDonalds,
Gee, can't imagine why we're so fucked up.
We never had a chance at all,
No mother to love us, no father to protect us.
We have no clue who we really are.

Down on the floor,
Blood flowing from wrists long-shackled by apathy.
Nothing more vulnerable than innocence in the midst of wolves.

Daddy Issues

Father, where did you go?
Mother, she is crying all alone.
I know I'm not the perfect child
And I know that I'm strange
But I still try to make you proud.

I see the truth when I see love in your eyes
But I still feel like I'm not enough.

Father, you show me how to be strong
But I would settle for feeling understood
I'm your daughter but I feel more like your son.
Striving to prove myself,
I want to make you proud.

Do you see that I'm just so scared,
To live in this flesh, so raw, so rare?

I see the truth when I see love in your eyes,
But I still feel like I'm not enough.

Ashes to Ashes

How many wounded souls lay scattered and mangled at the master's feet?
Am I the only one who sees their masks and does not believe?
Their legalistic lies preach peace but seek power.
Old hypocrisies boxed up in whole new technologies.

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Everything comes to an end.

Broken they seek pleasure but are left unfulfilled.
They they seek forgiveness from phantom faces with no reply.
So they seek the darkness but only wind up getting burned.
So they seek a brand new face for their God.

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Everything comes to an end.

No one really has any answers so lets seek some questions for a change.
If all truth is subjective does it even matter anyway?
No one has an interest in psychology or sincerity,
No one wants to dirty pristine hands with all this rage.

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Everything comes to an end.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Because this heart will not mend.

String Theory and The One Who Got Away

The diamond stars smile down at us from such a dark heaven,
The cold wind harshly steals the air from our lungs.
You smile at me in wonder as all of creation gives us its silent blessing.
The waves crash, little ice crystals slamming against the shore.
Synapses fire, fingers intermingle, lips touch.
The strings of the universe pull together,
Knotting themselves,
Ripping apart,
Reconnecting,
Doing their part,
Pushing, always pushing us back together.
So much time apart,
Transported back to a time when love made sense.
So many scars upon our souls, echoed in the wounded trees that blow gracefully in the wind.
I see the gentle lines that time has etched upon your handsome face,
I imagine all of the places you've been and the people you've met,
Then I glimpse the look of adoration in your eyes...
And once more, I have reason to hope.
Tied to one another, never able to escape.
The strings tighten, drawing us to one another once more.
This shared grief, this overwhelming feeling of regret,
How bittersweet are dreams deferred.

A Night In April

Take away my strength,
Take away my peace of mind.
It’s all a game, just a power trip.

Crouching in my corner,
Mascara smears down my face,
You have reduced me to this.
I’m scared of my own shadow.

You make no sound but I know you are behind me.
I don’t look back but I start to walk a little faster.

Take away my purity,
Take away my closely guarded prize,
It would mean nothing to you, just another cheap fuck.

It comes down to this,
A fear of a fate worse than death,
It has reduced me to this,
As you slowly creep from the shadows.

You make no sound but I know you are behind me.
I don't look back but I start to run.

No one is here,
No one to hear me scream,
You smile as you see me cry.

No one is here,
No one to hear me scream,
You smile as you see me fight.

I have to live past this night.
I can’t let it end here.
Please move!
Oh God, please move!
Oh God…
I have to run!
I have to live!
Oh God…
I have to get away…
I have to run…

To Be Loved

As hard a choice as it is to choose to love,
Far harder is the choice to be loved.
To see eyes filled to the brink with emotion aimed at you alone,
Causes the weak of heart to run in fear.

The fear of failure, of breaking a willing heart.
Here lies the wisdom of mad men and innocents,
To look upon purity and not feel tainted,
To stand as a warrior when your knees betray you.

The ability to be loved is a gift of heaven,
Just as love itself is a small sliver of that heaven.
God’s spirit shared between a man and a woman
Culminating in the sacred gift of procreation.

The Ocean

I love him, somewhat in secret yet deeply.
As the current pulls strongly at my legs
Beckoning to speed ahead
To plunge headfirst into the ocean of our life together.
But I must wait, holding my impatience at bay,
Not because he wouldn’t be there, ready and willing,
For the first time, that is not the case…
But I must first test the waters of love as it reflects reality,
To see if what is overtaking my heart
Is drenching his as well.

Part My Lips

Part my lips with pretty words,
Perish at the thought of my pain.
Lingering in the lonely gaze of midnight in my eyes,
Staking claim to my hidden thoughts and confessions.
Heaven holds the echo
Of our one day in the sun
As Hell holds the reality
Of every other day.
Lamplight fades away to dust,
As translucent shades of memory evoke my name.
Turning now from dusk to dawn,
Your misery darkening my crystal winged angel.
Part my lips with pretty words,
Part my words with pretty lips,
Marching on, beat by beat, to the sounds of two hearts pounding in the midst of pervasive silence..
Enthralled, enraged, in time, in space, in pursuit of fire to warm their souls.
Pull me out into darkness,
Sing to me a dissonant song.
Teach me to see heaven in the midst of fire and ash.
Give me a place to rest my weary head.

Death of the Patriarch

The years pass and I’m growing older,
But I still feel like a child.
Saturated by this newest loss, I find I’m
Soaked to the bone with memory.

Remembering your last smile, your last advice,
The last time that you touched my hair,
Watching me closely, trying to say with your eyes,
Words your mouth could no longer form.

Never Again Will I Trust You

The dark abyss of moonlight engulfs my soul and brings me to a resting place of peace.
The shadows of morning glow rakes it’s insensitive claws over my wounded spirit and causes my fear to fester inside.
Never again will I trust you.

Sad symphonies of death strung violins play the waltz chaotically as I cry to stop the pain.
My mind raped of all peace by the dreams that haunt me when my head touches the pillow at night.
Never again will I trust you.

But what if I dream of that face again?
Would it be worth it to heal my body?
But what if I tried to run away from here?
Would I run far enough to escape my fear?

You killed my innocence. You killed me.
Never again will I trust you.

Intent

The door closes behind us and darkness spills out upon our intent.
The air around us grows thick and runs faster and faster from my lungs.
Your head rests upon my breast as you listen, beat by beat, to my heart pounding.
My pulse quickens as you lay back invitingly.
I call upon God but you assure me that there is no need for heavenly intervention.
You hold out your hand and grasping it, I choose to take a forward step.
Your mouth claims mine.

Here Comes The Bride- A Song of Jealousy

A dress of white, a rose of red,
The blood of the innocent spread on guilty sheets.
A very sick patient doomed to be bled.
“Sit back down, objective observers, please keep your seats!”

I stand to the side and watch in distaste,
I catch the bouquet yet again and smell of still-pretty dead flowers.
I drink of rancid sugar punch, laughter-laced.
My smile is firmly in place as my soul inside sours.

La di do dah, I’m not really here.
My tears wet my dress but don’t show on my face.
The rustle of bright taffeta, so ironically sheer,
Follows my metered steps as I lie in silence haste.

I hate weddings but I might like my own.
I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to run away…
I’m reminded of silly Valentine’s Day and how I am alone,
I wish I were not here but I have no choice but to stay.

“I do”—promise to set my goals aside and bare two point three.
“I do”—promise to let you be the star.
“I do”—promise to fade into the middle-class, soccer mom, ambitionless sea.
But what if I would rather live my dreams and worship you from afar?

I adore you and I always will, your closest, dearest friend,
But the kindest thing I can do for you is to unnoticed, calmly walk away.
I’ll see you in a few decades, my love to you I send.
But I’m not sure there is anything left for me now to say.

Kiss my cheek and believe my polite smile.
I’ll promise to visit but I’ll never come.
“I’ve been replaced”, my heels click out on cold mosaic tile.
Our parts do not make one but rather a larger sum.

“So why am I here?” I ask myself and roll my red-rimmed eyes.
Because you are my friend, my first love, the one that got away…
But I really don’t care; I’m even angry at myself between sighs,
And if you ask I will swear to God that “really, don’t worry, I’m okay!”

“Here comes the bride” I hear played with flourish,
And I realize an era, a lifetime, a friendship is now gone.
I wonder now if you’ll come back for more, with an ego so well nourished,
But what you don’t realize is that I see your plan…to you I was just a pawn.

Frame

I’m just the frame that hangs around your picture.
I’m just the fog that greets the morning sun.
I’m just the phase that one day you will grow out of,
I’m just the one that you’ll think got away.
But I know this was more than just a momentary lapse on my part.
And I know you won’t forget me in seconds before sleep calls you home,
With your cigarette smoke lilting onward to heaven,
You’ll think of me and dream…

I cried into my mocking pillow with tears that just wouldn’t come,
I fought against the sunrise that called me back to a life where I see you.
Your voice shakes me to my core and I can’t understand why,
I fell into the trap that I despise.
But I know this was more than just a momentary lapse of my part.
And I know you won’t forget me in seconds before sleep calls you home,
With your arms around her as you drift towards heaven,
You’ll think of me and dream…

I drift towards idyllic status in your mind,
And here alone I would give anything not to be awake,
Not to feel,
Not to hurt,
Not to know your name.
One word is all it would take to have you here with me again
But I can’t do this again….
I can’t do this again…
I’m just the frame that hangs around your picture…
But I guess I’m just not the type to hang as a trophy on your wall.

Fragments

Fragments
Dirt on my face, dark wings encircling my head.
Nothing lingers now of lust but that which stains my lips blood red.
Entertaining the possibility of another road, rebelling against His will.
I fall, heart raw, bruises upon my skin, with my eyes unable to meet His.
If I bear witness of myself , my witness is not true.
I am nothing but the vessel that holds His majesty.
I am broken but He says
Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.
The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart;
And saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.
In humility born of wretchedness, I beg to be His slave.
But He wraps me in his love and kisses this tortured prodigal.
If I bear witness of myself , my witness is not true.
I am nothing but the vessel that holds His majesty.
I am broken but He says
Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.
I am loved…
I am loved…
I stand under the cross,
If I bear witness of myself , my witness is not true.
I am nothing but the vessel that holds His majesty.
I am broken but He says
Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing is lost.
That no one is lost.

Afraid

I'm afraid to wish that you'll experience the road you've pushed me down.
I'm afraid because I'm terrified of becoming so hateful, bitter and spiteful that I start to resemble you.
I'm afraid that if I allow myself to feel the desire for revenge that on some level I'll lose a part of myself...and in that way I'll allow you another victory, however small, over my life.
I'm afraid that there are more of you out here in the world. I've already met so many like you, who have done such similar, catastrophic things to destroy my life...I wonder if you've kept a count of your clones. I would find that useful.
I'm afraid to speak to my friends in public places because I wonder if you'll somehow be there and hear me, feeling then the need to confront me for speaking the truth instead of parroting your lies.
I'm afraid of thinking about you, allowing my anger to consume me.
I'm afraid to hear your name on my friend's lips, knowing the cascade of destructive emotions that will cause.
I'm afraid to go shopping, worried that I might face you accidentally while doing something as innocuous as reaching for a can of peas or corn.
I'm afraid that I might have allowed so many little compromises that I'll wake one day and realize that over the progression of many days, I've become someone repulsive and untrustworthy...someone you might call a friend.
I'm afraid...of many things...but from now on, the one thing I am not afraid of...is you.

A Lover's Thoughts on the Nature of Innocence

With virginity’s claims upon my soul, I stand in awe of momentary longing.
Speaking as one whose past shows multiple glimmerings of lust and desire, I fight to keep my head above the flood of my misgivings.
With wanton zeal, I portray the innocent as I watch the tide slipping away from me.
Who is to know what path each of us could be destined for?
Does God know? Do I even believe in God anymore?
I know it is not I who knows.
For if it were “for me to know and you to find out”, I would not currently feel so ill at ease.
Simple childhood taunts make me feel clever during nights like these.
I look up at you, from beneath you…
Not physically, as my flesh would crave, but from the depths of my insecurities and former scars…
Unknowingly, I created a hollowness deep within myself.
In the past I filled that void with the unfair and uninvited expectations of men and the unfortunate broken hearts of the naïve boys who tried to rush in and save me from my decent.
I filled that chasm with the pretentious souls of other women, similar to me, but not me.
I have sent those souls away.
I now face reality without the affectations of the mask.
But without the mask I do not know how to bleed love from your veins…or from mine.
Without the mask I do not know how to create in you a craving for my flesh.
In a way, I am a child again…innocent and insecure.
I wait for the sound of your voice with forgiving impatience and dream of the taste of your mouth,
The feel of your hands.
To kiss as an innocent…
So many years, so many wounds, since I last kissed in that state.
I would gladly fall again and lose my innocent garden to know you are near.
Would you be the end of my innocence?
Or would I be the end of yours?
Would you in some way become the final nail in the coffin of my past or the window to my brighter future?
How would that change me?
Could we not love as innocents and recreate Eden with the purity of our honesty?
Could we speak as equals and live as one?
Would I sacrifice a part of myself to become part of you?
Or would I gain of you what I lose of myself and in you find the reflection of such sharing?

Ice Cold

I saw you in a dream last night…
You said “hello”, but I heard “goodbye”.
I saw you in a dream last night…
The world on fire, but I felt ice cold.

And now I see them in a room,
Feeling the same as I felt.
And I cannot say a word,
That doesn’t feel false.

I saw you in a dream last night…
You looked like “hello”, but I said “goodbye”.
I saw you in a dream last night,
Prince of Lies…
And I felt ice cold.

And now I stand in front of a room,
Singing of friendships long past.
But I cannot say a word that doesn’t feel false.

Goodbye, Old Friends, goodbye.

One More Frustrated Rock Star

All the pressure is toward a happy song,
The kind that was never in me to write in the first place.
Everyone has their own opinion as to what I should say,
Do, be and I see a path arising out of this artistic fog,
That could bring me to the person that I always knew I could be.

I’m one more frustrated rock star,
One more burnt out musician.
I’m one more, trying to be famous but not a pop star,
One more artist striving for originality just chomping at the bit.

Everyone surrounds me and knows just who I am,
They’ve heard my words, seen my picture and I know it is my fault.
I’m a let down to the crowd, to myself and to the God that I serve.
Doing half of what I can with less than half a heart,
I lay it down and walk away to find a better reason than ‘just because’.

I’m one more frustrated rock star,
One more burnt out musician.
I’m one more, trying to tug at your heart strings without sounding overly pathetic.
One more artist striving for originality in a world of Brittany and Avril clones.

Symphony of my disappointment, written on my heart.
Kiss the dawn to eat some crow and smile to ease their minds.
But I can’t fake it anymore…
I can’t pretend I like this anymore…
I can’t remember why I even needed this attention in the first place…
And did I mention this was “totally my idea”?

I’m one more frustrated rock star,
One more burnt out musician.
I’m one more, trying to get over this but realizing that I can’t.
One more artist, with nothing left to paint…nothing left to sing…nothing left to laugh about…nothing left to say.

5 Unforgiven Men

Am I the only one who sees the seams of this hypocrite?
Is one soul worth so many, just to keep him singing here?
But regardless of what I see, hear or think about him,
He’s no more a hypocrite than I, for me to judge him.

“Judge not”, I know…
But his lie brings out my humanity.
His shallow, mocking tone
Tests my Christianity.

At my most vulnerable he handed me the knife.
He was too busy assuming pain meant addiction.
He quickly apologized to me but I’d heard it all before.
I could not continue a friendship with someone who saw me that way.

“Judge not”, I know…
But his lie brought out my humanity.
His shallow, mocking tone
Tests my Christianity.

Fair season friend, where did you go?
You used me for what you needed, then turned and stabbed my back.
You rationalized that certain mistakes I’ve made in the past
Justified your coup, made your betrayal okay.

“Judge not”, I know…
But his lies brought out my humanity.
His shallow, mocking tone
Tests my Christianity.

You said you loved me and wanted to marry me, protect me.
But only to get the prize without the price.
When I was not the girl you assumed I was,
You quickly lost interest in me.

“Judge not”, I know…
But his lie brought out my humanity.
His shallow, mocking tone
Tests my Christianity.

You were my first love. You were my proverbial “sun, moon and stars”
If you had only asked I would have dragged your talentless ass to the top.
But instead you manipulated, decimated my heart and my self-esteem.
Finally stealing what I might have gladly given if you’d only have asked.

“Judge not”, I know…
But his lie brought out my humanity.
His shallow, mocking tone
Tests my Christianity…

Damn You, Brandon

Things were never “that way” between us.
Things were never the way that people would assume things would be
Between two people who obviously cared about one another,
Who spent every available second together,
Who teased one another the way he and I often did.
Between two people who came alive in the other’s presence.
Between two people who found so much mutual comfort in physical contact with the other.

Things were never “that way”.
I often wish they had been...for reasons more than just romance or desire...
Honestly, he might have been easier to get over…
If he had just been a random set of hands,
Soft lips set in an easy going smile,
Disheveled auburn hair,
Mischievous cobalt eyes,
Strong but slender arms…
If I could take him apart and replace him bit by bit.
If I could reduce him to his parts,
Reduce what we had to a simple crush
Or a friendship tinged with lust.

No… Unfortunately, he is not that forgettable.
He was…remarkable…different…complex.
He was a person whose actions I could never completely predict….
He was a labyrinth…a puzzle I could never totally solve.
Maybe that was what I found so fascinating…
He surprised me once in awhile.
I couldn’t easily see through his actions,
Into his mind….and into his soul.
I would have given anything for evidence that I had finally reached his heart.
I still don’t know if I ever did.
Was I a distraction?
Something to pass the time until he could leave?
Was I a backup plan?

I’ve never mourned a relationship the way I mourned losing him.
The day he left I was changed on a chemical level.
So many things happened that year to change me…but losing him was what cemented the change.
I went to bed and simply… I just could not get up…for days…weeks…
I went back to living eventually, after a time, but more like an automaton than a real person.
My body was where responsibility dictated it had to be…but my heart was gone…
It was left broken on the cold tile floor of the front hall, where he hugged me and said goodbye.
Without even a farewell kiss on my long-neglected lips.
A part of me crawled into the fetal position and died that day.

Occasionally he comes to visit his family and apparently I fit into that description.
When he first came back I couldn’t get over my anger…
I was cold.
I spent the time with him but I didn’t reach for him…
I didn’t speak unless it was absolutely necessary.
I knew that if I allowed him back in that I couldn’t take losing him again…I just wasn’t that strong anymore.

The second time he came home I decided that I had to take what little I was given, enjoy it and forget about how bad it would be for me when he left.
For that short week, things were as they always were…
But they didn’t progress…

Can you stay in one place for so long without stagnating, without the taste turning bitter?

For one week I went back in time and then, bereft of his company, I went back to my lonely present.
He went back to his life and forgot about the woman who loves him.
And I did my best not to think of the man that will never love me enough.

I still don’t know…
Does he care for me at all?
Was I just a distraction?
Is he waiting for something?
Does he foolishly think I’m still waiting for him?
Was it the pain in his past that held him aloof towards a future with me?
Or was he just one more guy using me for my warmth?
Will I ever be able to completely live past the tragedy of not being loved enough?
Do I ever want to?

I look into my niece’s blue eyes, the color so similar to his…in a face so like mine…
And I melt in awe and sadness…My joy turns to ashes…bitter in taste…
A little more of me dies…
For the friend who refused to see me as anything else…
For the love that will never be completely mine…
For the family I’ll never have…

I wish I could shake the vision of the future I saw the first time his mother hugged me.
I saw him, dressed in hospital scrubs, showing his mother…and my mother…their grandchild for the first time…
A child that now I’ll never have…never get to know…that I’ll never get to love, teach and discipline.
And I have to live with that,
And he’ll forget me regardless.
Damn you, Brandon.

Why Can't Their Voices Fade

He seeks the moon inside this mordant, hazy night.
Justifiable depression holds me somewhat aloof.
I am desperate to see the other side.

I want to go away from this.
I want to change my name,
Become a new person…

Why can’t their voices fade?
Why do they pound so deeply in my head?
Flooding the field,
Making work impossible.

I wasted so much time on fools and liars.
Hitching a ride on the new power’s bandwagon,
They have no loyalty that makes the transition from role to role.

It’s the season for hunting truth,
But she knows all the best hiding spots.
Inside my heart,
Inside his eyes…

They seek the chaos they need to survive.
To be the hero, they must cast the villain,
An antagonist to play against their protagonist.

I dreamed of flying once,
Now I dream of death
Of slavery
Being wiped from the earth.
I am hunted to extinction.

Irony has become my life.
Irony is getting called out because I pray for my enemies to find joy.

Self-sacrificing, dieing on everyone else’s cross including mine,
I know love and I show love to the least of these.
Can any of them say this of themselves?
Not without photographic evidence.
Compassion is good P.R., right?

They love only the adulation of mindless admirers.
They crave only the aggrandizement of their own egos,
Sycophants to be their audience
To be the friends they lack
Appearance is more important than truth.

Love is a trophy given to them because of their outward beauty,
Graceful movements,
Passionate speeches.

The hot lights beating down upon wax faces,
Will it melt and show the corpse beneath?
Will it crack and show an empty space?

Souls up for rent…

Folly is their works.
Ignorance is their wisdom.
Puppets, automatons…
Searching blindly for the next life to live,
Emotion to feel
Convictions to assume.

Theatre is a breeding ground for mental illness and wanton idiocy.


To be a blank slate to be written upon
To be told what you have to be today only to change it tomorrow,
To lose your sense of self gladly and willingly at the chance of fame…
This is not healthy…
They are blinded by their hunger.

I have risen above their ranks to the world of steady paychecks,
Little recognition,
Saving lives instead of bolstering my own ego.

How did I ever think that was a worthwhile life?
Was I ever fulfilled by their hollow vanity?
Was I ever happy as a pawn in their game?
Was a friendship I ever had before now sincere?

They don’t know me.
They can’t know me.
They don’t have the ability to see beyond themselves.
I know because I lived in that house.

I left the stage to become a completely different person.
A fleshed out character,
Living my life instead of playing at it.

How can those that find such worth in themselves while being so empty,
So false,
So corrupt…
How could they look at me as I have become and feel anything but…
Guilt?
A faint bit of shame?
Joy at seeing the mighty fallen?
An opportunity to spit on the bound lion?

They see in me a reflection,
A mirror held up.
I show them the contorted nature of their selfish, self-involved lives and they show me…
That I was right…
I was right to leave that lifestyle.

Why can’t their voices fade?
Because they aren’t fighting one person, one “crazy bitch”, one renegade actress running from the spotlight…

They are fighting the ticking clock,
The coming tide,
Their own fears,
The whispering Spirit…

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.”

So by cursing me, they are in fact loosing blessing in my life.
It backfires on them.
Amen to that.

Their words did not tear away,
It bound him to me for a time.
The role of the knight defending a lady’s honor appealed to his chivalrous nature.

This has taught me wisdom that they will never know until it is too late.
People love a scandal and the unsatisfied will shoot at any target.
One day it will be their turn,
They will be broken and beaten, made a target by supposed friends.
And well, I guess I will see them in my office.
I’ll just make sure to jack up my prices that day…
Or order shock therapy. :P

Death Is Not Something We Undergo Ourselves

Death is not something we undergo ourselves when we leave earth. Death is what we leave behind. As we venture from this life into the bright white peace of heaven, the stagnant grey of reality cloaks the hearts of those that once loved us.
When I lost her, I saw death more in the eyes of her fiancé, of her mother and of myself than I would have ever seen in her eyes. Nothing left of worth in her earthly body but what the eyes of her soul beheld was much more like life than we that are alive are ever likely to see until we join her.
Why is it that when I look to God, my vision is blurred by the multitude of stars that line the floor of heaven? My smallness of spirit, my incipient nature brings me closer to him than any great show of strength that my too-human mind can create. Why? Why is it that the closer my tower of babble reaches to heaven the farther I fall away from gaining access to perfection?
I loved her. I loved her and mourned her.
I mourned her more like a lover than as a friend. But then, I have never been comfortable with the line between friendship and passion. I have always felt that if a soul is worthy of my friendship that they are also worthy of my love, my passionate soul-wrenching love. I have never been one who loved in levels…the flesh and the soul are completely separated in my mind when I think of love.
I loved him. He loved her. She loved me. He hated me. She distrusted him. I trusted them. In my mind I have grown to connect them. I knew him through her. She grew to love me because I was drawn to her through him. If not for one, then the other would not have known me, not at the level at which they did. They were my first two loves. She left me. He betrayed me.
He touched me. He killed the child I was and holds partial credit for the woman I became.
They both left me and I walk on alone.
She died and left this earth for heaven. He lived and died inside. He lives every day in the hell of moral purgatory.
I live every day in the pursuit of heaven…desperately trying to escape this hell.
I live every day to prove him wrong.
I think he is dead. I do not feel his spirit here on earth. Has he truly left this world or has his spirit continued to bleed out upon the war-wasted earth that he so hates that he no longer lives, regardless of whether his feet continue to tread soil?
Death is not something we undergo ourselves when we leave earth. Death is what we leave behind. As we venture from this life into the dark blood-drenched hatred of hell, the stagnant grey of reality cloaks the hearts of those that once loved us.