Giving

my mixed up, scrambled-egg mind away, I'm running out of reasons to say "hello." And I'm afraid, always that I've become too transparent to hide my silly emotions. I remember obsessing with the scented lotions, you would caress me and I wanted to be your perfect drunken pin-up girl. Now here I sit, messy and disheveled, trying to keep somewhat leveled but I'm so afraid of you now. And I'm trying to work out how I ended up in this lonely place but suffocating, whilst in my old chaotic ways, I always breathed so easy.

Today I endeavored

to converse with my inner child, and find out how she stayed so alive. I dug so deep and tried and I tried, but no matter what, I couldn't find her. I am not mine, I believe, I've been stolen and changed. What happened to variety I wonder, 'cos every day has become the very same. I have a tendency to volunteer to be a hostage, "take my freedom if you please." Only to regret every second of this time spent so repressed and far too at ease. Too often I wonder where I, myself wandered off to. Maybe somewhere too far to retreive. Maybe sunken so deep into me that I'll never actually be. One day, somehow some way, I'll see the day that I'm able to say "I'm free." But until then I'm silenced and small. Unless of course I've been that way all along. Sunken in and blended with all the rest of the billions of sad, silent people. I just sink deeper and deeper until I'm only someone else's shadow, faded to help them radiate their own light, just feeding off of mine. And in time you'll be beautiful as I once was long ago, before the drought and the loss of everything I'd known. You'll be a supernova, and I'll be your glow.

Begin a revolution...

and call it "Me." You know your soul is almost trapped and you must keep it free. Kneel before no one and call out no name but your own. Hurt nothing and no one, and hold me like foreign languages possess your mind and nothing is owned. Words are away; if there's anything to say, and your mind falls astray and your body hasn't a clue who I am. You're my favorite enemy and worst lover, Best human being and ex-undercover. Least ashamed is all I am and most afraid is all I'll ever be. I can see in this blind world but am blinded by all I see. Love is blind and love it may be. Love? No; love and so much more. And if I could ever speak another word, I'd never say anything I've ever heard. No, no you're nowhere near worth it, but a thousand times more. Do you see where you've led me to go? Do you understand the things you've exposed? Of all I've wished it would be you and now that it is, I've got no one to blame and everything to lose. All I want is everything and all I need is always. You're the world and universe, and all that's around, and if I could ask you for anything, "don't judge me; I'm corny and please stick around."

 

The flowers

are blooming underneath your shiny skull, but don't speak. I can see the color and the light inside your head, beautifully painted with shades of red. I know the story but it's still unfamiliar to me. You can see the train wreck from miles away, smoke and fire high in the sky with no doubt that there were no survivors. But it's okay, in a way. One day all the pieces will be used for something new just like your flowers. Until then, I'll be rummaging through the mess, scavenging what's left from all those hard collisions and crashes and hit and run accidents and it'll be okay. After all is gone and lost, who will stay? I'd like to say you wouldn't be one to walk away from a lost cause but I could be wrong, I've never asked the question, and even then it's only hypothetical. And theoretically, there's no reason for you to stop and play the game a little longer. It would only make the good-byes more somber and might not do any good at all. But risks are what make life worth playing and without any mystery there would be no point in saying all I've said. Love until the very end.

A passionless heart

is no heart at all. Where was I when my world came to fall? In my youth it was nothing to cry for but in these reminders of my emptiness I weep. Blankly I make my way through all of these lonely crowded places, no questions asked with no story to tell. All is meant well, but perhaps our good intentions destroy us in the very end. I've got nothing to offer except for myself and nothing to give but obedience. Where is father time taking me, I can't help but beg "Are we there yet?" Because even with no mind to the destination, I wait and pray for the journey to end.