It's a Trich

Somebody call the carpenter, tell him there are bugs crawling under your skin and you need to be resurfaced.  He won’t be home though, and when he calls back you won’t answer. The bugs can be your new best friends, maybe they can weed out the bad blood, give you transfusion of theirs. You’re bound to be the same blood type. You’re both small and insignificant after all. 

Or is this another late night, early morning, coffee driven sailor’s warning to bail out before the storm? Baby there’s a sinking ship and you’re on it, but you aren’t the one who can walk on water, you have to swim. 

Honey that’s a cut there, and the sharks smell blood. They’re coming for you. Why aren’t you moving? Get out of your head and get away, don’t stop now, daylight might be fading but tomorrow’s on it’s way. Just keep heading for dawn. 

Do you remember what a sunrise is? You’re supposed to wake up to them.

Why aren’t you answering? 

There’s a mason out there somewhere who can chisel away at your heart of stone. You don’t have to keep throwing rocks to ripple the surface of the water. We see you. Your head can’t break through the surface. And with all that ice inside no one can hear you scream. 

Not to mention from point a to point b is a poisonous sea of anthrax filled tea because honey scares me. Sweetness turns sour as dawn fades to dusk, don’t forget the warning that you’re not the one to trust.

Stop tugging and pulling and pushing away, breathe, let it out, that’s what they all say. But take the wire scraps just left lying around, See if you can keep your feet on the ground while they poke and prod their way into your skin. Now it’s not just bugs but metal within.

Slowly you’re fading, it’s so hard to see, do you know this person? Or are they just a memory?

But Please, Be Happy

Forgiveness is a medicine of the poisonous sort

The supposed loving but really coarse retort

It runs through your veins like oxygen, a supposed life saver that in the wrong place kills

Then your heart stills

And you’re on your knees begging

Hoping for the best when you don’t even know if this dagger will ever rest,

And every little word you are regretting

Spend your nights lying awake and fretting

Life is a reminder of the deep cutting pain

Despite what Darwin said the weak still remain

Look at all the damn shame and the anger

But maybe someday the passive aggressive undertones will fade, or maybe they’ll just break her

You and me

A freaking poisonous sea

I guess that was another promise I just couldn’t keep

Gosh darn it all maybe that’s why I don’t sleep

I can only hold this green screen up for so long before you see

The manipulation of exaggerations and fabrications that consumes me

And someday soon someone will

Come along and encourage you to spill

Your precious soul

But you just can’t afford to pay his toll

So take one for the money and run for the hills

As it turns out, forgiveness it kills

 

You read like a book but you’re on the wrong line

Suck it up and say it, take your sweet time or take mine

Shine your piteous looks on the stone cold floor

Quite frankly my dear this ordeal is a bore

So please make it worse and all about you

But maybe save the drama for your mama because you know what? I’m through.

 

Rinna-Girl

The best of the liars are the ones who claim with their lips that they cannot be believed in their tale of deceit, they giggle and laugh and every person knows that they speak truthfully. But they are wrong. Because spite flows from the tips of the DNA’s roots in the solid mass called a brain. A thirst for the truth and a mouth spewing lies.

It is a twisted and backwards path to weave, just to pull in each person and make them believe that they are the only reason you pay attention to the world. That you could not possible fathom hurting them, when really it is all a scheme, not a nightmare but a dream, where you pull bits and pieces of each human and take what they give you and play with it. Like play dough. Holy mother of pearl you are a children’s toy, meant to be meddled with, ultimately destroyed, so play with the pieces and perform the final scene, make everyone think your brain is calm and serene. Then start the fire.

Become a pyro. Play chess using minds as pieces. Find some inked teardrops on faces in the crow’s feet of exhaustion and maybe move on and discover they hold the answers to all of the whys.

Curiosity once killed a cat so sorry dear felines but there is about to be a massacre. A full blown escapade into the psychotic. Anxiety, insomnia. Breathe, in out, heart beat, now breathe again. Remember, act normal and smile and talk hug this person and that and hold someone’s hand while you say that you care when you don’t and you won’t and it’s not that you wouldn’t but you can’t. Call it a disorder but maybe that’s the disease. Look it straight in the eye and be honest. Something is wrong. Normal functions the things that come easily to others seem needless and unnecessary just a piece in the game you’re too tired to pretend to play their version, when yours is so much better.

Scariest of all compare yourself to the hated and find the similarities the glaring monstrosity of a scar that cannot be hidden forever; the Grand Canyon doesn’t have enough space, so maybe the universe doesn’t either.

Wrong, all wrong, what’s wrong? Nothing, fine, unknown, tired, overworked, exhausted. More like not knowing what right feels like, how happiness feels on your tongue and soars through your heart, wait for the inevitable as the wave crashes and home is in the pages of a book to be burned because your character may have figured things out but comfort never came.

There is a glitch in the system, lights flicker and go out. Some say the problem is your light is too dim, not enough serotonin. Others say you have too many lights to manage; they conflict and overlap causing more shadows than spots of clarity. Still another may say your light burns too bright.

Maybe the itty bitty details matter for the label on the clouded bottle filled with fluff and plastic spheres, but it all comes down to the empty. Eyes that look like the shark has seen blood, don’t match the expression on the painted face. Don’t believe a soul you cannot see. Try to read the imposed imperfections and every little guess is wrong, or maybe it is right, no one is even sure anymore. What is and what isn’t is an invalid argument when you cannot describe the problem.

There is a glitch in the system.

So lungs breathe, heartbeat, foot tap, leg jump, wrists twist, head burns, eyes blink, and mouth smile.

Accept the lie in hopes of hearing the blood flowing in the background. Gray bleak skies are magic.

Bad days hold truth in their rock bottom pits. Somewhere there is the bit of glass that reflects happiness, all you have to do is find the shards and fit them together. Some say it takes years, others days, some say lifetimes. Maybe this one just isn’t it. But next time, I promise.

In a Sense, Starving

I lie here, shriveled and dying

I’m hungry, still crying

My will disappeared moments ago

Now I drag through the dust

 Only the bits of me that I must

Before I slip into the cocoon of forever

I’m wasting away here

And it is worse than I have ever feared

For I’m hollow, I’m out here alone

The trees hover over me

I writhe on the ground waiting for their branches to open up so at last I’ll be free

But it seems I cannot leave you just yet

I stoop my head and I pray

As I wish to look up into the day

To see the sun poking her long golden tendrils through the green

But the hope that existed is ticking itself away

As from the edge of my vision my world begins to fray

And I’m slipping from consciousness into the great beyond

I was supposed to live long and well

With a lifespan of stories to tell

But here instead I lie broken and beaten

My body can no longer take all this pain

Only the hunger remains

I’ve starved myself to the end of the world

I had hoped I would fail

That someday this would merely be a tale

But it seems that is not what is meant to be

As for me, I will die

And no one will cry

Not a soul here on this Earth

Will have tears to shed

For the girl who disappeared

I ran, I up and left

I took off, tried to escape

My eyes could not see

My ears could not hear

But my heart hungered for love and my stomach for food

I was lost

I had run away from all I had known

With the hopes of finding something better

But instead all I found was pain

I am starving.

For the girl who lost everything, for the girl who took everything, for the girl who couldn’t take it, so her life-she had to break it, and no, she won’t make it past dawn.

Into the Ashes

Flames flicker and leap

Shadows dance upon skin

The fire-it molds me

Its touch my payment for my sin

Searing heat burns the flesh from my bones, I am melting away

Choking on smoke as my lungs fill with cinders

Screaming and piercing the air with my words through all this unbearable pain

Losing consciousness until merely the ashes remain

Skin crawling with fire

Flashing through red hot veins

It glints in my eyes

The heat driving me insane

My eyes flutter open, ‘a glimmer of hope

But engulfed by a new flame

I am burnt out

Out the door flies my soul

My body collapses,

But now I am free

Once and for all,

Forever and always,

Gone from memory.

Upward I spiral

My flesh left behind

Through the skies and the clouds flies my soul

And now for myself

A new purpose I set out to find

Freezing the Shadows

Sick and twisted

Dark and deep

In corridors and locked drawers

A secret she must keep

For hidden in the shadows

Of her swathed dark room

Blood bleeds from the corner

Where a man met his doom

This horror film stars a princess

This romance is one for a murderess

The lies that are hidden here under all of this mess

We’ve left for you to sort out and guess

Under the smile, the favored pink lacy dress

Secrets are teaming

For it’s always the quiet ones

You’d better start screaming

Four days ago

On a dark stormy night

She ran up to him

And started quite the fight

Knife to the stomach

Fist to the heart

She murdered the man

Then turned to depart

But bodies can’t be left lying

Just sprawled on the street

So she dragged him back to the apartment

The feeling of success so sweet

Just now did she realize

What she had done

Blood on her hands and murder in her heart

All she wanted now, was to up, away, and run

But as she could not, she just stood there and stared

Into the cold dark eyes of the man she had killed

As her heart she now realized

Of hatred was filled

He lay upon her floor

Eyes looking like glass

Frozen in time

The look on his face was his last.

The Soul Current

Out the back

Door of the old wooden shack

Flows a river

Secrets in the air above quiver and shiver

-and with time

For the river cuts deeper

‘Tis a storybook keeper

Each year it learns more but never tells

Of each person, heartbeat, tale, and secret that into its depths has fell

-lessons learned,

Some people would say

The river carries the rocks of broken dreams each day

But I find that is not true

Instead I believe that it carries the hope of all things anew

-adventures taken,

For my story is long

It takes turns, climbs mountains, falls down crevices like each heartbreaking song

And I’m happy to know

That my long winded tale, will always be found in the river come rain or snow

-are added to

I’ve lived long, I’ve lived well

Oh, the stories I could tell

But I’d rather that you write your own

So for now I’ll put my words away so that your own skills you can hone

-the storybook

I was born on a bright sunny day 95 years ago

Then as a young one I played and I ran to and fro

As I grew up I learned more and more of what it truly is to be me

And now as my story comes to a close, I know that my soul will run free

-so, when I die

Age does not scare me

So in death let me be

I’m ready to find my peace of mind

Sweet serenity lulled to forever in time

-the water will always know

My story is long, I find the ending sweet

To die after a life as wondrous as my is really quite a feat

I am happy and at peace, I am ready to rest

This old woman’s body can take no more stress

-who I was.

-and with time, lessons learned, adventures taken, are added to the story book. So, when I die the water will always know who I was.

The river-it carries my soul.