Blessed Evils

What if in fact this is all a dream?  What do I make of the devils and angels dancing across my eyes?  In the quiet of night I can barely make out their squabbling.  Fighting again.  I'm not sure why I'm still surprised by it all.  Both have found a home inside myself.  As much as fire extinguish, he still finds a way inside.  How long before the feathers overtake?  Perhaps it all depends on strength.  How hard must I grit my teeth? How much blood drawn from my tongue?  I can't feel anything.  Happy, sad, all I am is numb.  Thaw me out, let me feel.  Something...Anything.

You

I wonder how long it would take for the sky to swallow me whole.  A ride among these clouds seem as though it would last forever.  Just me and the blue above my head.  It's better than the one below, asking me to drown in emotions without a name.  Perhaps if I swim.  Perhaps if I tread these tears, they will lead me to you.  They call it obsession, complete focus on a single entity that if I not be careful could simply become nothing more than smoke before my eyes.  They forget that it is you who have kept me here, you who have kept me breathing. 

Salted Alphabet

All this time and I still ask myself just how long it'll be before I am heard.  How long must my phrases be before someone takes note of the fact that they are drowning in tears?  Am I to create an ocean of my sad tales before my worth, my pleas, my story be told?  What a sadness it is to realize that there are never enough intellects to take the breath to read.  When words are all a person understands, it is a hope, a prayer that their voices be heard.  But what of it when not a soul has picked up and dusted off a book?  What becomes of those simply begging to be heard? What becomes of the ghost that glides inside, so silent one almost wonder if any trace of humanity remains?  How many words must be written before another can hear my screams?

Me, Myself, and I

It seems everyone has somewhere to be. And then there's me, a body in three different places wondering just when the triplets will finally blend to one.  I am here, my thoughts are there, and my heart lay beating warmly in hands I have yet to touch.  I can't help but think we simply cannot decide on a home where all of us may coexist.  And even when we do, time and space are much too cruel for kindness.  Long ago I discovered where it is I belong.  Now it is simply a means of compromise and effort on all my parts to find a single space.  And even as we disagree, all of us know exactly where we wish to be.  All that remains is a single form of flight, so that one day, some day, sometime soon...all will fall into place.

Grains of Sand

I wish you understood the mess you left behind.  I wish you knew the power and inflicted damage behind your leaving.  I never knew there to be a summer free of blazing warmth.  Some kind of magic you brought.  The truth of the matter is, the sky was free of fire for more than I ever thought possible.  Cold.  Cold and alone is what you left, the hope I held for so long nothing more than grains of sand piled atop my feet.  But you don't, you never did.

Years passed and not a single thing had changed.  Do you regret?  Do you apologize for any of it?  I can almost guarantee you still believe yourself to have played no part in my breaking.  Blind.  Blissfully blind to any of your faults.  How blind was I to believe, how dumb was I to fall?  Never should I have allowed you the power to take me over.  Thank you, I've learned better now.

A Blip in Time

I'm in constant awe of just how long it's been.  Though you will never see my face again, I have only one question for you. Are you happy?  Is your life exactly as you pictured it to be all those years ago?  Was I at all a friend to you?  Did those years as children shout none but obligation?  I found breath on a day that is meant to be yours.  The miracle is that I found breath at all.  I hope at least that is enough for you.  I hope you remember that even in our distance, I am lucky to be here, typing these words because I found the will, the determination to see the colours of the sands, hear the songs of the birds.

Did I matter to you at all? Those days that seemed to stretch for hours as we played among the smiles of a flame. Now that I think about it, those summers, those days of breath that we shared, were nothing more than placeholders for you.  We met out of obligation.  I knew your name and laughed with you because life threw us together, forcing a twining between us.  I wonder if I cross your mind, if only none but once, for just the briefest of seconds.

I can't help but think it's all a blur, you've forgotten even my name.  But I can't expect very much.  We were children, thrown together by circumstance.  I may not remember every second but bits and pieces have stayed.  I remember thinking you'd be here forever.  How naive of me, laughable a dream it was.  You are there and I am here trying to piece together the threads of my existence.

A part of me questions if I know you at all.  Have you morphed to something, someone unrecognizable?  It's certainly been long enough.  Could I call you out on a crowded street if ever I saw your face?  I think I know the answer, even if I am not brave enough to place it across these pages.  I'll keep them in the files of my mind, spare you an inclination that you mattered to me at all.  Because the truth is, you did.  In a different life, in a different time, in even a world that no longer exists.  But here?  You don't belong here.

This is a world of pain and scarring that you were kind enough to leave hidden.  You know nothing of me, of who I am, and who I hope to be.  We are not children anymore.  No longer do I believe in an earth that houses only fairytales.  I know they exist and I know where they are, but you may not follow me to these places.  I am not who I once was, a stranger to you.  Perhaps to you I was never real at all. 

White Noise

How long before the world permits that I fall to pieces?  How long do I have before the subtle buzz of the closest machine sends fingers tearing through my hair?  Perhaps if I pull hard enough, the bone-crunching pain will exceed any I've ever felt before.  Maybe, if I'm good, if I do exactly as I am told, it'll hurt too much to cry.  It is only then that no one will be able to hear me.  No one will hurry off to find me, save me from the pasty film that clouds my mind.

All it is, is noise.  I've lost the will to try and understand all the mutterings of the bodies around me.  What does it even matter?  None of them are you.  Not one of them is you.  Not yet.  I ask myself how much more will I have to do, have to be, to hear the sound of peace.  The only peace I've ever known lies in the spaces between your fingers, across the blankets of your feather soft skin.  Painting these words, allowing that they dance across, is all that keep me sane.  In this moment, without your face, my music to keep me here, it is words that settle me on solid ground.  I know that the minute I let myself stop, when I finally put the last of these words across these leaves, I'll lose my footing once more.

For now, in these few seconds, I am here.  I am here hoping and praying that someone, anyone will see my plastered smile, see through everything I try to hide.  They tell me it's all just drama, that I'm a bright and shining star, a manipulator of states and faces.  What all do they really understand?  They know nothing of the days of nights and the darkness of before.  They understand so little of the days I lay rattled to my core.  I'll try and tell them now, how many smiles you've brought by.  The moments of serenity as I look into your eyes. The eyes of someone who understands that this isn't just a game.  The one body of all those that cycle the earth that understands that darkness lies in all of us.

I just wish it all to stop, let me curl back into bed, silence all these monstrous waves that crash loudly in my head.  All I truly wish to do is simply close my eyes, run my fingers across your gentle skin and push it all away.  Let there be no more piercing cries, no more subtle squeaks, of all the little things that keep you away from me.  Maybe if I sit here long enough, paint pictures of these words, peace will but surround me in the only way I ask.  But peace is there and I am here, surrounded.  Just say the word and I am yours to take away tonight.