Tar and Feather Suit.

These days the praise is so long-gone:

the desire once harbored for you to belong,

you’ve gone ahead and just moved right on,

into my nest with your reach – over-long…

I can’t help but to see through the “friendly”:

the poorly fabricated façade is now crumbly,

ignored chances to walk away from it humbly,

and now, the blood in veins courses numbly…

no differences to work out between:

two people from long opposing teams,

while one keeps the other second-guessing,

behind intentions growing into forces unseen…

the equation you’ve laid out is rather easy to deduce:

you think that you’re exempt from any need for gratitude,

an explosion of the magma from my own home-made brew,

that’s seething at the threshold of my door opened up to you…

if you had any sense, you’d be driving fast and far:

as my eyes have tired of looking at your parked car,

and I feel like I know nothing of who you truly are,

beneath your suit of feathers glued onto hardened tar.

Fiend

Image

 

If you remove the letter ‘R’ from the word ‘FRIEND’, your are left with nothing more than a fiend; when you take the trust and endearment out of a circumstance, you often find yourself sitting with a very ugly reality, firmly attached in your wide-open lap.

When you allow your misguided, faulty sense of trust to lead your decisions regarding such an atrocity as ‘fiends posing as friends’, you are inviting a most sobering wake-up from the lobby in the depths of Living Hell; for choices falling this category have the potential to sway the very course of a lifetime.

When you are stupid enough (in a truly pitiful sense) to allow the vultures (your band of two-faced fiends) to circle overhead and give away your position for all to see – without ever even realizing what was happening, you have tattooed a barcode that translates into “ENSLAVED”.

 

Rubbish

I keep stumbling across all of these stupid reminders of the person who I just lost from the rest of my life: someone whose lost presence made things seem better, someone who used to make me laugh every single day, multiple times…someone who was never really was, most likely.

ImageA weathered “missing” crossbow arrow, stuck firmly into a fence post from last summer when this person and myself shot everything and anything we could aim at in the backyard; tiny, yellow, plastic bbs that I still find rolling silently beneath my bare feet in the hallway…echoes of laughter and sunlight and smiles that were unprompted and genuine on my behalf…things that don’t come easily for me with anyone.

A safe in the garage, full of this person’s precious valuables and stacks of money – things this person doesn’t trust to leave with ANYONE or ANYWHERE else; quarts and quarts of “butter” in the refrigerator that I have to get my meals out of every time I get hungry – which isn’t very often any more, anyway, but still…it makes me remember the person who left these things here in comparison to the person who will be coming back to retrieve them: An ugliness that is painful and sour in my belly.

The deep reverberation of sound that resonates within this place’s new emptiness from wall to bare wall; all these plants sprouting up everywhere from the seeds mixed in with the piles of rubbish this person cleared out like the end of a party’s cleaning crew cleans a party hall. Most certainly the end of the party…

Turns out (who knew) that this person is the kind of person who is only honest with you about stuff when you see this person every day – the type who isn’t bothered by being dishonest with someone when there’s little follow up contact to worry about – which is pretty hurtful and sad to me, yes…but not the end of the world as it has been feeling like more recently. I’m tired of being used and tossed away by people because they have some superiority complex that is their own baggage and has nothing to do with me.

I intend to disallow this in my future, and it won’t be easy because I get my own gratifications from the twisted and warped ideas I carry around to strengthen my own ego, ironically. I see that I am in the wrong ballgame, and need to move on to a different field. Not sure which one yet…but one without so many god damned constant reminders of so many ghosts, that’s for sure.