strawberry gashes all over

we strive to sustain ourselves until this one life defining moment when our souls collide with destiny, and we realize we can no longer self sustain our being without the world crushing us to the ground. they say we hold the weight of the world on our shoulders, well they are wrong…we hold nothing up, we simply lay hopeless and motionless under the weight of something far more greater than our eager thoughts and needs to belong.

the truth is we never belong, we never feel up to the standard, never oblivious, never normal, never right always wrong, hopeless, lost, abandoned, rejected, and inhuman. there is a pain which swims in every thought, bleeds red-fluids rushing across nerve endings pulsing with loneliness, sleeping with denial, and making a fine fuck-buddy for burning temptations.

one more drink to wash it down, one more pill to swallow the lump in my throat – you know the one that i couldn’t somehow choke those three beautiful, glorious, and despised words over. never spoke how much it hurt in all the greatest ways to remember every detail of your being as you lay sleeping beauty never realized i bit that apple and devoured every sweet piece as if it were your flesh never knew i fell into faceless slumber youthless recgonition of wicked teenage lust and woes which somehow became the entangled web of the world’s unrooting and self demise rocking us ever so gently as teh fucking bow broke and fell before the knight in shining armour whose heavy and hard barrier of protection against those things which somehow still intruded in his mind in his pants simply could not reach out fast enough and only let the fragile doll fairy tale crash and shatter into the millions of shards piercing your flesh in such a loving manner you cannot refuse death as a joyous delightful shimmer of how easy it could be to know forever.

romeo and juliet did they know forever? or did they know hell’s brimestone and fire? is it the same fire which burned in their hearts, which stole their worlds with little to no objection, which bled a weary heart as the pain words cannot manage to attain, which intervened and crossed their paths writing their story with the stars? did their world only read as so many pages burnt to cinders upon stricken thoughts to evade the possession the obsession the rejection the tribulations the promises built upon glazened walls with lies written all over them in blood. denial! she loves me she loves me not i hate me i hate me ihatemenot ithinknot. i think…that is the problem. a selfish self construed truth of the imagestaring blankly out of the mirror – what it is it the reflection sees from that other side? what is that thought you hold in your hand shiney and new but keep tucked away  in the darkness you fear like so many devils pulling at your feet at the bottom of the covers at night. no sleep for you not on this night not as you remember not as you keep thinking not as you say if i sleep now i’ll have three hours of sleep. insomniac. zombie mode in the morning the afternoon luchtime you clock out but the light never came on when you first clocked in lunch is over it’s back to the assimilation of retail process and stock. when you go home after that day’s work is home a word you write and read over and over hoping that somehow it will become real grow out of the seeds you’ve sown with such love with such grace with such angelic anger. anger suits you in th ecolor red yes like blood the blood you tasted the candy you save for the one only the one. thoughts stream interrogade your motives place new hopes in false dreams and expectations except the hand which lifts you up only to push you down when you need it most.

you stagger drunkenly from the dark silence of sleep afraid that this part is only a dream you somehow are stuck in and cannot seem to awaken from. you kill the drink poison your liver with that poison your thoughts which poison your actions which possess you to do weird but not so weird things for fear they see you as something you are not. is it their images which stare at you from that mirror, do you think they notice the lonely writer whose lover cannot understand and they say oh how sad the fairy tale endings really are? why tell that rubbish to a child? build their hopes upon a golden foundation of lies? well gold is so pretty so shiney so flimsy and easy to destroy. why give wings to those things which will never fly except..yes here is the oh so infamous except part…except in our wildest dreams? i have one question though what is it which becomes of you when life has become that dream as you read its story and marked that page etched in stone forever and forever only happens to be unattainable. forever should mean something such as never.

the fire in my brain is tired wants to devour its own flesh which itches and eats at me from the inside wants to forever live that dream which died one night when i let go of that last piece of childhood passion and grace only to become the ones i used to watch as they thought no one saw them hanging their head down low trodding loudly through defeat smelling of the loss of hope the lost passion of a decade of free love where if they only saw all love comes with a price to pay. those few their eyes seemed a little bit sadder their smile a little more sincere when they could manage and any one of us could have became a good memory to them – a child full of untainted life and hope. looking with those very same eyes now the eloquence of youth lives in its ability to delude itself. to each half there is another which makes a whole your world lives in the center of the sphere of delight until the super glue becomes too heated a stickey mess of something once one now two unable to thread its seams back into that wholeness which held you warmly. self indulged you glutton of desire need want admiration obsession love

always love somewhere in that pain. dressed nicely in suit and tie or ribbons in your silken hair. we can’t always afford that price so we sacrifice ourself????

how much do you measure your worth? how much do you measure mine?