Thursday, May 21, 2009

A Matter.

It's a matter of faith, love and everything in between. Sweet sounds of glorified memories and raw scents of existing love all created a filthy combination that signified sorrow. Sorrow of the empty, drowning being who probably could not find reason to climb back out of that deep, self-dug well of misery and self-hate. A well filled with the rodents of the past, the stickiness of the present and the retching mold of the future, like green gunk on bread.

Melancholy was a new found 'phenomena.' One that usually led to thoughts of black danger and red self-harm. It was new; it was raw; it was there. Crawling up from toes to head and then slithering its way in to the most vital part of a person's emotional-being: the pumping heart -- One that was still beating with the slight hope of love; the slight hope of innocence; the slight hope of raw naivety. It did not take long to get tainted and worn; for blood-shot eyes to look upon the world with a sense of doom and dangerous resignation.

Such drastic alterations in personality and views of the outside world usually lead to destructive traits. In this case, it twisted the mind, creating a mess of dementia and constant movement that led to a lack of concentration and a lack of civilized recognition. Roving eyes and paralyzed, blood stained hands caused a scene of darkness and bleeding lips. A quiet desperation settling on the red tinged mouth was rising to the surface with rapid speed, eyes widening and breaths becoming ragged; the feet tittered forward, to the ledge of what seemed like the tallest building in the world, and tilting forward, the torn, wounded mouth gaped open to let out a scream of blood curdling horror. It was only a matter of moments before the loud thud of body hitting concrete and bones crushing into melted jello was heard by passers-by. Screams of terror and shock invaded the vicinity as they stared wide-eyed at the prone, blood-leaking body of the miserable soul that was captured within it...

... and it was all just a matter of faith, love and everything in between.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

A Much Needed Monotony.

It was not that I could not understand the way she felt, it's just that I could not be bothered. I tried time and again to be there for her but I don't think I held a light to what her own soul could do. All sentences began with "I think" and her thoughts with "I feel." Always the opposite, always the unexpected, always the manic drunk, always the one she leaned on and always the unstable butterfly.
Now, it's not about making a judgment. It's about stating a fact of observation. The fact that she's insecure; the fact that she does not know who she is; the fact that she fights only because she knows she can; the fact that she allows herself to cry for things are don't deserve importance. The fact that she's always the one to do everything first. Broken hearted, battered soul, irreplaceable wisdom... It all surmounted to what she was. What she was destined to be. What she tried to make me.
I spent a while getting dragged down. Feeling with my head and thinking with my heart became a way of life. Experimenting with the different vices was more a necessity rather than a curiosity. Screaming, yelling, crying, hurting, fighting and all amounts of violence were a fabricated release. My heart ached for reasons best known to a stranger. It was hard to understand why I NEEDED to feel the negative when I was always surrounded by the positive.
The truth of the matter is the fact that it was Her. Being pulled and dragged, influenced and tainted; it all led to my depletion. My lack of perspective; my love for the nonsensical.
Then it changed.
I cried when necessary, I yelled when needed, I hurt when hurt myself and exercised violence only when I wanted. She changed too. 'Independence' became her middle name and 'bruised' her conscience. I always knew it was only a matter of time before the unexplainable became a necessity and the predictable a much needed monotony.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Paper Thin Sin.

The lights are flashing through watery windshields
And the songs are creating scenes of paper thin sins.
While I look the other way in an attempt to forget,
You watch me through the sounds of hooting horns and drizzling rain,
Saying you're tempted through your eyes.
I stifle a smile of longing and glance in that review mirror,
Trying not to make my emotions plain and obvious.
But you don't care; about the sounds, about the rain, about the shivering cold...
About my stifled smile and unrequited lust for needing to be wanted.
Sharing a secret through smiles and eyes, we drive along...
Waiting for something to happen; not feeling the need to utter a sound.
Lyrics make sense and clouds are like a shield
From every insecurity and need we're trying to deny.
Pretending it's alright; pretending there's nothing but purposefully accidental touches of skin.
I roll out of your car, flicking a look into your eyes...
Letting you know that I want to be your paper thin sin.