Go On.

Scratch every single thing
That ever held meaning
Swipe away the empty words
All Ive said and all Ive heard
Make it rain with truthfulness
Wash the stain of uselessness
I dont need the toxic lies
The well concealed goodbyes
Its all a joke told cruelly
Behind the trusting back of me
Just go on and get in line
And take your place in kind
Youre all the sorry same
Point fingers and place blame
In the face of reality
Incapable of solidity
Its like a giant oozing wound
Stitches opened far too soon
Im alone in the responsibility
Of letting mutants close to me
Days and nights between
The lies fed forcefully
I vomit each and every breath
Until nothingness is all thats left
Go on.
Go live your life.

Kneel.

Days…
like today:
I am too low to partake;
my mind’s in rapid decay,
the throb of a headache –

mistakes…
that I’ve made:
stupid things that I’ve said;
serenade a percussion parade,
through the confusion in my head –

evenings…
like this:
make my heart reminisce;
I didn’t know he was built like this,
the King in my castle has been dismissed –

regrets…
that I feel:
fester beneath this raw deal;
the question of what’s even real,
about the man in the boots at which I kneel.

Pleased for a King.

Stand tall and silent in the face of me;
against the trickery of the Milky Way…
in compliance with the God of Defiance;
forget ever seeing me broken this way…

This prayer is born of necessity;
these pitiful tears turn out to be mine…
I again, come back to feel your whip crack;
I’ve been lost: following the eyes of blind…

Please grant to me: your moments asleep;
I’d be pleased if a King was to still dream of me…
don’t cast me too far beyond your sovereign reach;
please circle back for me, before you finally leave…

Without your presence of balance, I’ve lost my way;
I need your conversation and I want feel your kiss…
time to act, no holding back another single day;
what’s most important here is that we can still do this…

Palms up to push at the bottom of your heart;
but you cursed and swatted me away…
I bet you will look for me here eventually;
after I died waiting to see that “someday”.

Kneel.

Days…
like today:
I am too low to partake;
my mind’s in rapid decay,
the throb of a headache –

mistakes…
that I’ve made:
stupid things that I’ve said;
serenade a percussion parade,
through the confusion in my head –

evenings…
like this:
make my heart reminisce;
I didn’t know he was built like this,
the King in my castle has been dismissed –

regrets…
that I feel:
fester beneath this raw deal;
the question of what’s even real,
about the man in the boots at which I kneel.

Buried.

It was just last week,
he claimed “now, more than before”…
that his heart stood true.

In reality,
there’s me, and at least one more…
what am I to do?

Unsurprisingly,
all the drama is a bore…
unbecoming, too.

So don’t tread on me,
you are not a King, anymore…
I’d have followed you.

It hurts me to think,
of the dreams of mine and yours…
buried in our youth.

Now – decidedly,
it’s time to let those dreams go…
and sleep with the truth.

Heatstroke and Snow.

Imprisoned amidst the vastness of all things labyrinthine,
the backdrop to my own failed romantic meanderings,
the endless saga of a tale that I can’t stand reading,
a maze of pits and sinkholes designs a twisted serpentine…
my soul: sold to the devils hanging outside from the trees,
a bucket of pain in exchange for a lifetime on my knees,
behold that’s last year’s intel and it’s no surprise to me,
men come and go same as heatstroke and snow, apparently…
and in truth it’s no use to say it’s not fine in my mind,
it’s better that way: short and sweet, hello – goodbye,
you’ve seen my bare ass and smiling face for the last time,
boots on and laced, and I’ve already outpaced your front line.

Clues and Hints

get itBody language gives so much away – that’s why everyone online is so clueless.

The words spelled out all over the screen have become so meaningless.

…’Cause they can’t see that I’m chewing my cheeks and doing the ADHD purse shuffle from near-spontaneous-combustion while they tell lies to me.

They don’t know how intelligent I am because I have a sailor’s mouth and I prefer not to be meek.

They each think that they have something better –  a leg up on me.

Two can keep a secret when one is headed downstream.

 

Inhale

Blades of silver-lined grass have cushioned the fall on my ass –
Once again, I take a hostage and somehow inch my way passed;
Fingers shaking too much to hold still, my own pistol at will;
Thoughts racing too far ahead of me and going too fast.

Trees bearing perfectly painted Paper-Mache fruits –
Line the mirage of roads that lead us so far from the truth;
It turns out anyway: when the sun sinks down every day,
It’s nothing more than another trick being played on me, too.

The moon hangs up high only long enough to revive –
The parts of this pirated vessel that can still “look alive”;
But then it once more – gets replaced just like before,
A solar mockery of a lunar journey to simply survive.

The cardboard doors fall in as soon as the knocking begins;
Just a façade made to look like there’s some kind of life within;
Templates of bodies without faces – drafted in pencil-thin traces,
Erases the lines away where the canvas wears thin.

Wrapped stupidly inside a snuggly blanket of lies;
Happy to step down and hand over such a cursed prize;
Soothed to death by a waking breath – in the wasteland that’s left;
Too tired to cry or wonder why – can’t wipe enough blood from my eyes.

And everyone says I have lost my mind this time;
In which case the truth would be so much easier to find –
But it remains aloof – this thing called TRUTH;
Enlightenment of the most poisonous kind.

Circus Games

just passing through

“What forces are at play here that delivered such power, light and love to this old Centurion on the edge of darkness?”…

The words rolled around in the most embittered recesses of her well-numbed mind forcing a tickle to arise in her lethargic spirit. A broken, but shining smile appeared on her down-turned face as the phrase repeated itself like a broken record again and again in the background, but the instant she felt herself smiling like that, the shine disappeared again from her swollen face.

The forces had most certainly been that – at play. No more, no less, she recalled sadly – just a cruel game in Life’s circus.

A sharp, long sigh spewed from her dry, cracking lips like a whistle while she begrudgingly revered in the memory of the void of meaningfulness, promised lies and so much self-absorption; she was spent. As the humming sound of machinery tugged heavily at the sleepiest places in her tired spirit like an anchor on its way to the floor of the Mariani, her brain wove a tapestry of those things that disturbed her most – constructed in vivid color true enough to bring tears to her eyes –  embedded with tastes, smells and sounds of foggy scenarios that remained opaqued by a blurry, superficial residue.

“Just because you got the monkey off your back, doesn’t mean the Circus has left town.”

-George Carlin