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.