Dedicated To My Enemies

You have seven more seconds to decide for your life before my tongue becomes a blade and you brain gets sliced. I warned before, I'm addicted to war. I was praying for Armageddon on the day I was born. 3 pounds 7 ounces, four weeks premature. Perfectly flawed and perfectly impure. It was a night full of lies. It was a sick quick compromise. I survived. To stubborn to succumb to the dripping jaws of the dominant paragon. I speak out of turn. I taught myself everything I ever needed to learn, which is I don't need to be anything but me. Napalm bright. Celebrating the burn. See I'm supposed to be weak and depleted. My uniqueness erased and deleted. Nothing left inside and nothing left to lose. They want me to be a bleeder, not a thinker, not a leader. No voice, no choice. But I will fail them. I have no need for their acceptance, their limits, their lies. I learned to hate from you.

Skin

I drift away to a place, another kind of life. Take away the pain, I create my paradise. Everything I've held has hit the wall. What used to be yours isn't yours at all. Falling apart and all that I'm asking, is it a crime or am I overreacting? He's under my skin. Just give me something to get rid of him. I've got a reason now to bury him alive. Another little white lie. So what you had didn't fit among the pretty things. Never fear, I now know where you've been. Braids have been untied as ribbons fall away. Leave the consequence but my tears you'll taste. Falling apart and all that I question, is this a dream or is this my lesson? I don't believe I'll be alright. I don't believe I'll be okay. I don't believe how you've thrown me away. I do believe you didn't try. I do blame you for every lie. When I look into your eyes I don't see mine. My permission to sin. You might have started my reckoning. I've got a reason now to bury him alive. Another little white lie.

Ocean of Missed Chances

Laying on my bed, drowning in sadness. Losing my mind. Drifting to madness I see a shining in the distance. Trying to hold on to it's substance I run across the floor down the stairs out the door, no one cares. My heart is pulling me away from here. Still I follow without a hint of fear. I come to the edge of a shore, but my heart screamed out for more. Slowly I entered the water and waded trying to figure out how I was persuaded. This situation doesn't feel right. My lungs are becoming too tight There's a flash of a distant memory. Then the current pulled me into the sea, kicking and splashing, gasping for air Out of fear I begin to swear. My life is now flashing before my eyes. Still screaming, with no one to hear my cries I start to see what could have been. As the water rises above my chin, losing sight of all my romances I drown in an ocean of missed chances.

Beauty From Pain

I feel like I'm slipping away. I feel like a doll. Watching from the sidelines, except the only difference between me and the doll is...I'm real. Most of the time I wish i wasn't. I wish I could be that doll with no heart to get stomped on. With no real tears to cry. No feelings whatsoever. I wish that more than anything in the world. "A dream is a wish your heart makes"...Well what they don't say is what happens when your wish is over, and there's nothing but nightmares to haunt you with. They don't tell you what to do when you get dragged back in against your will. You suffocate. That's what happens.All that's left of me is clinging to the promise that there will be a dawn. "There will be beauty from pain"...Where's my beauty from pain? You told me you never meant to hurt me. You told me you made the wrong decision and didn't follow your heart. So tell me something...If you really meant everything you told me, why did you want it to be such a secret? Why didn't you want me to tell anyone? Why couldn't you tell anyone? Well, I'm not as naive as you think I am. I now understand the fact that I just wasn't good enough for you, and you'll never admit it. So stop trying to pull me back in, because as much as i want to be your rag doll still, there's enough marks on me from you already. You've had your share of "fun." You go on everyday pretending everything is fine. Pretending you don't even care that you ripped me apart. Well I'm still masked. I guess I'm back exactly where I started. Haven't you had enough? I have...I'm done! But no matter how many times I say that, I never mean it. It hurts too much to let you go.Which is why i am letting go. I'm finally letting go. Where is my beauty from pain?

Reflections Of A Past

I look out my window seeing the reflection of a past. A little girl happy as can be. Big hazel eyes taking in her surroundings. She doesn't have a care, a care in the world. Her hair flows in the summers breeze. The life she has is at ease. I turn to my mirror only fragments of that sweet little girl are left. Those big hazel eyes tell a different story, an unhappy being is left inside her. The ease she once possessed was swept away with that summers breeze and I ask how did that little girl become me?

The Truth Behind Her Eyes

The truth behind her eyes, will never be revealed. Like a letter posted away, with a stamp concealed. She has never shed a tear with someone there beside her. She has lost all her hope believing there is no cure. Her walls she has built are slowly breaking apart. Everyone is rushing to find whats left of her broken heart. They all stand in line her eyes, they glisten. They all want to ask her why no body would listen. She looks away as a tear filled her eye, and she softly whispered,"Because no body knew i wanted to die".

Soldiers

Off to war with their heads held high. Scared of course for they know they may die. But each brave soul stands their ground and aims their gun to take the next round In each of their eyes shines red, white, and blue for they know there destiny and that's to fight for me and you Each letter they receive drives them hard because they realize we believe, and that's bravery. When you lay your head down each and every night you can sleep soundly without any fright. Families may miss them but they are also proud too for they know the duties in play. They know what they're there to do. To fight for justice, freedom, and rights. To go to limits no country has gone. To show their strength and drive further on.

Smoke of Death

Breathing in this smoke of death. Thinking it relieves the stress. She pops another pill to block out the pain and downs another shot to forget again. A little dizzy, she trips and falls but no one hears her pointless calls. Her heart is broken into a million pieces and her bitter pain only increases. The taste of sweet death is at her tongue but how can she die when she's so young? She grabs the knife and stammers to her feet because now her sorrow she can defeat.

The Mist Takes Me Away

Walking trough the darkest night while wind is covering my ears. Containing whispers drowning me with sorrow and deepest fears. The yellow lanterns clearly projecting my shadow on the street. The awful cold making me shiver and penetrates my soundless feet. Rustling sounds created by the wind coming out the nearby trees. Pulling and shaking until they finally drop there colourful leaves. Slowly zigzagging through the air and end like rustles on the street. Where I now walk alone in the dark with cold penetrated feet. The windy whispers keep on whispering slowly driving me insane. Salty tears roll down my face drip by drip falling on the ground. Slowly gliding on the wind falling down the leafs without a sound. To ease my deepest fears of dying and finally stop my endless pain. A pain created by the imaginable wind from high out of the sky. Quickly coming down to form dark scary whispers around my ear. Speaking faster and louder slowly forcing my eyes to draw a tear. Confusing me and threatening me and telling that soon I will die. I keep on walking while the yellow lanterns now got out of sight. I now walk carefully trough the darkness of this endless night. Clouds start to form a barricade. On the enlightened darkened ground. Laying themselves down one by one isolating all threatening sound. Wind now stopped blowing and the whispering voices left me alone. I decided to get some rest as I sit down on a cold grey nearby stone. I feel engraved words as I start to read, wondering what it might say, I shiver when I read "R.I.P." while the mist is slowly taking me away .

My Poetry

Here's another poem just for you to read. I hope it rips at your heart and makes your flesh bleed. Watch the mascara glide gently down my face. Trace the dark circles under my eyes they've taken place. Watch my heart beat, hear my skin scream. Hold my emotions and see if you can dream. Take my life squeeze away my voice. Take what you will have, anything of your choice. The only thing I want is the only thing you can never take. My words are my own. The only thing not fake. My poetry sets me apart. My poetry sets me free. Take that away and you've just killed me .

The Heart Of The Eyes

Eyes burned with tears unshed. Stubbornness won't let it fall. It hurts from what it sees, and blinded by what it saw. Heartaches glisten its lashes. Thousands of tears kept at bay. Saw all the painful scenes, but no strength to look away. The sorrows of yesterday, reflected brightly in its shine. Its innocence and loneliness became one as it entwine. It never thought the pain it felt would ever fall. Until the heart cried and broke its only wall. Blinking it away a single tear rolled down. Hitting the heart at home. Slowly it begins to drown. Pitter patter of the eyes crying for a dying heart. Posture broken down, emotionally torn apart.

Without Struggle There Is No Progress

"Without struggle there is no progress". See to struggle is to learn and to learn is to live. To live is to gain and to gain is knowledge. Knowledge is power and power is change. Change is progress but progress does not come without a struggle. And struggle does not come without pain but pain leads to love. And love leads to understanding. Understanding is compassion and compassion leads to freedom. But freedom does not come without struggle."Without struggle there is no progress".

My Most Obvious Weakness

It's long night spent with my most obvious weakness. I'm breaking down in the worst way. I am red, violent red. My hungry and angry eyes are now hollow. I'm not hearing anything anyone says. I can't ever leave. I won't ever get too far from here. Everyone is making damn sure on that. So I'm going to take this medicine to kill my hunger. This is getting harder to fight by myself. Does anyone see the life I lead? All I do is hate now. I just want to bleed this poison dry. This feeling inside is going to keep me up all night. I need to do something, go somewhere, see someone, anyone. It is so hard to see when your eyes are rolling in the back of your head. It feels like I'm being punched in the throat and stabbed in the chest. All I can do I scream in this empty room. My days are bleeding together. All my smiles are getting harder to fake. I'm watching my aspirations fall to the ground. My heart keeps palpitating missing beats. All of you knew this would kill me but you carried on with your selfish shit. Hope has left me fucking shattered. I'm so strangulated by my worst fears. Are the images of pain cutting right through you now? One can only feel desolate for so long until one starts to change into something the mirror doesn't recognize. Who will hold me after all of this? I'm just swallowing the pill and thinking of myself no longer. Am I being too cryptic? Am I being too obscure? I don't even trust myself anymore. I guess this means the pills are working. Right now five Vicodin, sleeping pills, diet pills, beer, and a shot of clarity. I've realized that nothing can hold you back when you're not holding back a thing. This struggle is consuming me. I'm going to be lying dead from drinking and nightmares. I can't wake up from this. I want to be able to tell you what led me to this state of mind, but I can't. It is my dreams that permit me to be this insane. I'm screaming for no apparent reason. Words are no longer making sense. I'm trapped inside my own body. It's a result of this nightmare.

Falcon Collage

Let's sing a song about smoke and flames that burnt down our lazy yesterdays. Let's pretend this poverty is fine and sit on our front porches like we do it all the time. Go out on these mean streets it's all the same. I watch my shoes while they take me on my way and I step to the beat everywhere I go. All the televisions screaming out these windows. And we're just waiting for the end. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say living is a lot like dying. A lot like dying. All the buzzards are circling overhead. Nobodies crying cause we're already dead. I sold my days off, now I sit around like every other waste of space living in this town. This is the only chance we have. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say living is a lot like dying. A lot like dying. Your Jesus, he cannot save you this time. Your precious savior is laughing while you die. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. Your Jesus savior won't save you this time. Your precious savior is laughing while we die. Ain't nothing worth watching on the TV today, and I can't stand working, and there ain't no shade. Prayer is for weaklings. I'm banking n luck, this city, my looks, and not giving a fuck. It seems like these days we're all sinking fast. These days turned to weeks, now we're too weak to last. Little Triggers, how to you do? I've been waiting, waiting for you. You look around, the sky is dead brown. The remnants of the work week are scattered around. I hear it's raining on the outside. Well these veins are burning this gasoline tonight. Remember the hippies? Well that's us these days. Hang another flag on this watery grave. It all went down and it's still going down. Yeah, it's all going down.

Prison of Sadness

Behind the laugh, behind the smile there is a side that is dark and vile. Behind this artificial glee there is another side of me. The other side where the pain travels through my road-like veins. A place where pessimistic shadows hide along with morbid thoughts of suicide. I keep it hidden deep within locked up with a safety pin. Confined within the dreary gray the walls grow higher day by day. On these walls grow vines of barb-wire separating these thoughts from their desire. At the bricks they violently pry as I slowly begin to cry. In the back of my mind amongst the darkness is where I hide the prison of sadness. Locked up it will forever be hidden within the depths of me.

Chained to Fate

There's so much to a story that can never be summed up in simplicity without having embraced the essence and vitality of the content; that which dangles in the paradox of conceptual existence. If the experience and the process of sensory cognitive analysis of these fleeting moments are slept away; they are cast into the big empty. Possibilities and enigmatic anomalies fed to the vacuum of life unwritten. The absence of any relativity incubates the manifestation of illusion. An empty shell of a hollowed conclusion. In hypothesis, the very understanding of life then hangs in the gallows by a futile noose; a shallow compensation for idle contentment. A mausoleum of consciousness; abstractions of papermache memories. It's not all that it seems to be... but everything that it ought to be. Come join the masquerade. There's divinity in simplicity; though adorned with irony; is the beauty in tragedy. Living the divine comedy. How does one get to truly know another? What's invested through time and space, development and deconstruction of preconceptions? Anonymous interests tangled and shine in a web of sub consciousness run through the mind like a silent film. Engraving fragile images of fleeting glimpses of what could and will never be.I'd love to get to know you, but it seems so cliche to trickle droplets of substance when there's an ocean of existence within. Do we put ourselves on display, freshly packaged for the meat markets? polished produce... shiny red apples? At least in a market you can breathe in the vitality of the recently deceased in which we feast... (Let's dance by David Bowie plays softly to my left), and I say I'm not like the rest, but who are they anyway? All in all we are one but all in all we're none. "there is no modern romance..." so its been said, and what happened to that Shakespearean copulation in which we've read? No soap opera dramatic interests that's been spoon fed. Are you of kind that twist and unwinds paradoxes? Abstractions of the abstract mind? Do you wash away your sins in the light of the sun just to do it again and we do it again and again? When the only certainty in life is the rebirth into death... there's nothing to fear but ourselves. "And now I know how Joan of Arc felt..." Eloquent linguistics lull in my mind. They resonate through the evening as the physical image manifests before my eyes; if only in subconscious lullabies. Offer your fiery flavors, anticipation that burns and floods the reservoirs of desire and ideals transpired. A flame is born and spawns hopes for a day. The time in which our eyes dance and play upon and within one another, and skin abound flesh vessels that envelop our souls. Beauty as deep as bone; conceived from abroad... you carry the life and culture and you shake it well. Feed me the truth and the truth from your hand is the bread upon which I'll feast. And I reciprocate with the modest offerings of me...as long as the world spins round and round. In this life there will be sweet sweet sounds, lowest of highs and the highest of downs. We'll float towards the sky before we're lowered beneath the ground, and in this carnival of chaos we learn to swim or we drown, walk tall through darkened streets and vanquish sadistic clowns. Within and without the sweet sweet sounds still lies as we lay still... beauty as ever and always profound. Thus we strive to stay alive and keep our minds clean. Wake every morning and scrape our hearts from the ground, we make a better day for tomorrow. For the world will still be spinning round and round and round and round and round and round. The greatest of people won't hesitate to leave you there by yourself chained to fate...

You Could

You could worry yourself sick trying to be a better person. You could spend a thousand sleepless nights trying to figure out how to live decent and honest. You could cross your heart seven thousand times with your eyes shut tight. You could cut your thumb and pen solemn vows on a rock with your blood, then throw that rock into a river at the stroke of midnight. But, from somewhere unknown, some nameless catastrophe would swoop into your life like a hawk on a rat, and turn everything inside out and upside down forever.

Void

Void, cancelled, simply annulled. Endlessly aching, unconsoled. Life without you, cause without reason. Touch without sense, time without season. I face life now facing a cancerous sore. A sordid parasite that eats at my core. All that makes me whole, all I keep deep within. Leaving me lifeless, or at least not living. A shallow face, anguished and marred. An empty space, scaled and scarred. Sweetly abiding to a cynical charade. Secretly hiding behind a fictitious facade. Still lost within this heart of glass. In this fragile yet unfeeling mass, lies the remains of a love that glowed. The gift to you I once bestowed. But, honor and pride now bereaved - by your love for me so inconceived. Ripped from my inner depths, impeding - mind, body, and spirit bleeding. Now crushed to sand by your ruthless hand. A cold stare I just can't understand. I feel that somehow, somehow I'm dying. At least my soul and all that's underlying. A simple void, is that what I've become? The hollowed sphere on a pendulum swinging back and forth, emotion to emotion? Never once stopping, nor slowing the motion. No reason, no answer, no justification. The creation of a sterile imagination. Just passing through time as time passes me. Merely a nothing - nothing merely left to be. Sightless and soundless, unseen and unheard. Mindless and boundless, obscure and absurd. All empathy lying ungraced, unemployed. I live my life dying, unembraced, a void.

Plugged Into A System

Safety rules to calm us down. The want to sustain the teenage town. A culture created by the young. An anthem that will always be sung. Recommendations written in red. I never heard anything you said. Media blurs and propaganda haze. They all try to say it's just a phase. Casting out society like it's a religion. Hit me with your exact precision. Insanity that comes and goes. An endless poem that never flows. A social life shot to shit. On the curb is where I sit. Trees that grow out of seeds of madness. Sinners that try not to see the worlds sadness. You've thrown out a paradise. The drugs that will never suffice. A blood thirsty race to make your brain stop. I stare at the building and watch your form drop. The factory pipes lead the homeless people that they feed. From this fatal system I want to unplug. To weave myself out of this conformed rug. Our society built on a lie. They teach the people not to ask why. What's the use for a treble clef when the whole country is turning deaf? Talking to a simulation. Friends of your own imagination. A forbidden story of forgotten love. The memory of what supposedly lies above. Processing words to remove insult. The jury attacks like a mad cult. Falling in love without saying a word. A vision of the future becoming blurred. Maybe we were doomed from the start. The stained brains piled in a shopping cart.

Wounds of Wrath

The yelling, the screaming, it never did cease. She was in a realm of pure rivalry with no chance of peace. Her childhood involved neglect, her adolescence entailed contention. With all this in mind it was no wonder she turned to self mutilation. In a turn for the worse she turned to the blade. She lost herself in cuts as her rationality continued to fade. In an attempt to release inner frustration she would cut herself and relinquish all bottled up tension. Again and again she sighed sweet release as that razor glided over her wrist with the slightest of ease. Little did she know this was only the beginning. Never did she expect to be so far from winning. On one particular day she made the mistake of looking in the mirror. She witnessed her own doing and she let out a tear. It was then she realized she was the cause of her pain.

(In the end you are ignorant if you think you could never be in the place I was. Realizing that we are our own biggest enemy isn't the easiest reality to face.)

Remember This

For every person feeling pleasure there is someone feeling pain. For every person who is normal there is another going insane. For every smile spread across a face there seems to be a frown. For every up to life I find there is a down. For every lit up corner there is one hidden in the dark. For every jubilant child there is a shattered heart. For every tear of joy there are twenty tears of sorrow. For every person looking forward to the next day there is someone that dreads tomorrow. For every perfect home there is a broken one. For every kind word spoken there are a hundred said and done. For every pleasant dream there is a haunting nightmare. For every loving person there are a thousand that don't care. For every jumping child there is one broken on the floor. For every person enjoying life there is one wishing to live no more.

Why?

I lay in the silence of the darkness and hear the echoes of the night. Laying next to you I hear you breathe. In the shadows of the moonlight I want you to embrace me, but I can't stand your touch. As I feel your body close to me, the pain is just too much. The aching of my body and the bruises on my skin. How can you sleep knowing the torment I am in? This pain you have inflicted I cannot understand. How can you say you love me with the palm of your hand?
Silently I get out of our bed and tiptoe to the door. I then slip into the shower and fall silently to the floor. Crying as I try to wash the filth from my skin. The memories stay to haunt me of this terror I live in. Curled up on the shower's floor, crying my silent tears. I try to wash my bruises and escape my fears. I wonder why you hurt me and say that it's love. Why take away my happiness and all that I've dreamed of? As I wipe away the tears I can still feel the pain. What is this need to punish me over and over again? You promised to protect me, but I can only wonder why the same hand that embraces me is the same that makes me cry. As I crawl out of the shower, I had hoped to clear my head but all I felt was hopelessness. As I return to bed, as I lay there in the shadows listening to you breathe, I'm wondering if I'll ever have the strength and the courage to leave.

Manic

Manic depression. The sudden obsession. The reasons are lost in the course of progression. The causes fly by like a bullet train. Fraying the beauty in the lies of the pain. The denial consuming the flower that is blooming. The chattering rattling of fluttered frustration. Resonating with the echos of your words revelation. The wishful thinking that keeps me on. The regret that's left when I am gone. Just flick the switch and dull the lights. Dim the color and shade the sight. Blur the vision and hide the truth. The truth of youth. Shroud the crimes. Divert the eyes. Dodge the blades and inside die. Left alone with droning tones. My only company, the demanding crone. The wilted rose. The tampered perfection. Purple skies fade out with the prick of injection. The subtle and cold sting of infection.

Passion

Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting. And though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open it's jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments: the joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow: empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead.