I wish I could make things like they used to be.
I loved the way you used to call me.
Wake me from my sleep.
Save me from the anguish which I weep.
I miss when your embrace was tight,
suffocating the pain I felt to leave you from my sight.
But now your hugs are faint,
it makes me feel you holding back with restraint.
I escaped with you,
without you ever knowing.
I thought you were there with me,
but I was right next to myself,
reaping without sowing.
I can't give you what you want,
and I can't see what you need.
But I wish I could,
I wish so badly I could sow that seed.
Build with you, a place with laughter and smile.
A place I used to feel as a child.
But I'm wishing....
Wishing never got me anywhere.
Wishing will never make you care.
but I love you still,
and I always will.
It's a feeling I cannot kill.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
pain in vein
bittersweet.
every time.
every bite, tastes sweet and ends bitter.
i thirst for more, even knowing the bitter end.
a fool i am
every time.
every bite, tastes sweet and ends bitter.
i thirst for more, even knowing the bitter end.
a fool i am
Saturday, March 27, 2010
[lovingly overlooked]
Often my emotions get mistaken for weakness,
but further from truth this could not be.
The capacity for weakness has never had a home here
life has been to wretched for me
to unforgiving for the meek.
and thus it has made me skeptic of love.
A horrible lover.
I have never been the one to express it well.
And every time I pursue my passion for life.
My loves wither and my heart is strained.
I second guess,
because of my second breath
my breath for love
so muffled,
so tainted
so unsure of itself.
so cynical.
yet so empowered
by the dam that holds it back
I'll never have it all.
But all will have at me.
My smile will slowly wilt as I lift to my heavens.
as the pain of unwantedness strips at the strings of my heart.
Desired only by serpents disguised as sunflowers.
Alluring me with illusions of forwarded kindness,
poisoning me more with vicious unseen venom.
False lovers they are.
Yet my footsteps never fail to slip in desperation.
It is only a matter of time before I accept the fangs once more.
Of all things, why must I be deprived of the true strength of man.
cursed since birth.
spoon-fed hatred,
and taught the ways of mistrust.
Finding honor among thieves of souls.
Taught to hide my loves,
so no one could get to them.
Protecting them in silence.
And yet, I question even my loves.
My brother I cannot see.
My mother fears to even speak to me.
And a love I wish to be for me, was made for another.
I wish so bad to mend the hearts of my loves,
and yet I can't even stop the bleeding of mine.
I'll do like I always do.
I'll put on my thick hide.
I will cover the red crimson the seeps from my bosom
with a cloth of smile and laughter.
And I will try my hardest to be unselfish.
Not because its the right thing to do.
Just because its what I'm used to.
The injured coyote must again
walk through the bite of winter's night.
Being strong enough to survive has never been the issue.
Wanting to survive, always has.
but further from truth this could not be.
The capacity for weakness has never had a home here
life has been to wretched for me
to unforgiving for the meek.
and thus it has made me skeptic of love.
A horrible lover.
I have never been the one to express it well.
And every time I pursue my passion for life.
My loves wither and my heart is strained.
I second guess,
because of my second breath
my breath for love
so muffled,
so tainted
so unsure of itself.
so cynical.
yet so empowered
by the dam that holds it back
I'll never have it all.
But all will have at me.
My smile will slowly wilt as I lift to my heavens.
as the pain of unwantedness strips at the strings of my heart.
Desired only by serpents disguised as sunflowers.
Alluring me with illusions of forwarded kindness,
poisoning me more with vicious unseen venom.
False lovers they are.
Yet my footsteps never fail to slip in desperation.
It is only a matter of time before I accept the fangs once more.
Of all things, why must I be deprived of the true strength of man.
cursed since birth.
spoon-fed hatred,
and taught the ways of mistrust.
Finding honor among thieves of souls.
Taught to hide my loves,
so no one could get to them.
Protecting them in silence.
And yet, I question even my loves.
My brother I cannot see.
My mother fears to even speak to me.
And a love I wish to be for me, was made for another.
I wish so bad to mend the hearts of my loves,
and yet I can't even stop the bleeding of mine.
I'll do like I always do.
I'll put on my thick hide.
I will cover the red crimson the seeps from my bosom
with a cloth of smile and laughter.
And I will try my hardest to be unselfish.
Not because its the right thing to do.
Just because its what I'm used to.
The injured coyote must again
walk through the bite of winter's night.
Being strong enough to survive has never been the issue.
Wanting to survive, always has.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Forest
There's a place I go where no one else can go.
A place I and only I can be.
A place I want others to come with me to.
But either they don't care to come,
or they don't know the way.
A place I can't escape,
my feet are like roots in the ground.
for this reason I don't want to leave either,
its the only place I am truly connected to.
The Forest is a secret,
only the lost seem to find themselves here.
But finding ourselves was never the problem,
finding others always has been.
No one wants to be rooted here alone,
but that's the only way you connect to it.
No one walks into the forest as if journeying there.
You run into the forest,
because somehow in your fleeing,
you lose your way.
The Forest is formed of trees, your forgotten hopes.
Creatures who lost their tongues for speaking,
they have not spoken to another who could understand them in ages.
It is always perpetual night.
There is an unaffectionate chill here,
you only feel it when you ask not to.
And the rain...
everything here fears the rain.
It falls like sleet;
It melts away the old trees like acid.
It cuts through your hide made of scars and wisdom.
makes you shiver like a child again.
It peels away what's left of any tattered clothes.
You are naked here, always.
The Forest is unforgiving,
but the forest is who you are inside.
It is the one place you can never escape,
you can never run from.
It's no wonder, no one wants to come with me.
A place I and only I can be.
A place I want others to come with me to.
But either they don't care to come,
or they don't know the way.
A place I can't escape,
my feet are like roots in the ground.
for this reason I don't want to leave either,
its the only place I am truly connected to.
The Forest is a secret,
only the lost seem to find themselves here.
But finding ourselves was never the problem,
finding others always has been.
No one wants to be rooted here alone,
but that's the only way you connect to it.
No one walks into the forest as if journeying there.
You run into the forest,
because somehow in your fleeing,
you lose your way.
The Forest is formed of trees, your forgotten hopes.
Creatures who lost their tongues for speaking,
they have not spoken to another who could understand them in ages.
It is always perpetual night.
There is an unaffectionate chill here,
you only feel it when you ask not to.
And the rain...
everything here fears the rain.
It falls like sleet;
It melts away the old trees like acid.
It cuts through your hide made of scars and wisdom.
makes you shiver like a child again.
It peels away what's left of any tattered clothes.
You are naked here, always.
The Forest is unforgiving,
but the forest is who you are inside.
It is the one place you can never escape,
you can never run from.
It's no wonder, no one wants to come with me.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Lone Spirit.
I started running through the night again.
Not a single voice can be heard for miles, not even my own. Only my breath, heavily leading the sound of my feet, stamping against the pavement. They trail behind me, stiffening from the nights before. The cold damp air bites at my face and the wind cuts like burning ice through my gloves, searing my fingertips to the bone. My ears ache and are numb to sound. The watchful eye of a street lamp wips pass me, showing me a path I take alone. My pace increases. I bring no music with me. Only the percussive strain of my body, keeping rhythm, rumbling the declamatory drums of a heart on fire. The wind flutters in syncopation like a butterfly whispering to me. It has been years since I've run through the night. But the feeling is just the same.
It was on the first night since then that I saw the silhouette of a four-legged stray cross my path in the distance. Body of a dog, walk like a coyote. As I ran closer, the beast stopped and stared at me. I glared back, seeing no eyes but I knew that thousand yard stare so well; I could feel its eyes upon me. A face of black fur, back-lit by a street lamp, gave it an eerie glow. As I ran closer, Its breath I could see breaking the air in front of him. He stepped forward a bit, continuing on his path. Then he lowered his head, looking back to the journey ahead, not afraid. He walked passed and away. It was then that I realized, we were the same. It was here, running through the night that I felt more powerful, more at home than anywhere I have ever been. I have never felt so sure of myself, so free from every single pain and worry. Not even the bitter chill of the wind could break my stride. The elements were no match for my resolve. It is a place only for me. A place only I understand. And the only place that truly understands me. I am alone. The way it has always been. The way it should be. The coyote, chasing into the night.
Not a single voice can be heard for miles, not even my own. Only my breath, heavily leading the sound of my feet, stamping against the pavement. They trail behind me, stiffening from the nights before. The cold damp air bites at my face and the wind cuts like burning ice through my gloves, searing my fingertips to the bone. My ears ache and are numb to sound. The watchful eye of a street lamp wips pass me, showing me a path I take alone. My pace increases. I bring no music with me. Only the percussive strain of my body, keeping rhythm, rumbling the declamatory drums of a heart on fire. The wind flutters in syncopation like a butterfly whispering to me. It has been years since I've run through the night. But the feeling is just the same.
It was on the first night since then that I saw the silhouette of a four-legged stray cross my path in the distance. Body of a dog, walk like a coyote. As I ran closer, the beast stopped and stared at me. I glared back, seeing no eyes but I knew that thousand yard stare so well; I could feel its eyes upon me. A face of black fur, back-lit by a street lamp, gave it an eerie glow. As I ran closer, Its breath I could see breaking the air in front of him. He stepped forward a bit, continuing on his path. Then he lowered his head, looking back to the journey ahead, not afraid. He walked passed and away. It was then that I realized, we were the same. It was here, running through the night that I felt more powerful, more at home than anywhere I have ever been. I have never felt so sure of myself, so free from every single pain and worry. Not even the bitter chill of the wind could break my stride. The elements were no match for my resolve. It is a place only for me. A place only I understand. And the only place that truly understands me. I am alone. The way it has always been. The way it should be. The coyote, chasing into the night.
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