Truth Speaker

Tell me what I'm supposed to be
Because you could never tell yourself

Tell me what I'm supposed to see

In this crumpled paper cut-out of a figurine

Tell me everything you want me to hear

Because I'm no longer listening

So, why don't you go on and tell me what you're really thinking?

You Don't Have to Take the Advice

"Consider this a sign."

It felt good to confess all my fears and feelings
My sins and innermost secrets
We laid all pretense aside
And there was nothing left but bare soul
And I've never felt so naked, so powerless in all my life

I never knew there was so much of me my skin could hide

Pepsi on the Side

A boy used to play, used to stay here. Used to roam freely here. I wonder if he's gone away, too. I wonder what ever made him stay. I really used to worry about him.

He tells me about how to start a family. I tell him about how to preheat the oven to 450 and throw that bitch in and incinerate her. I really do still worry about him....He tells me she reminds him of a girl he used to know. Thankfully, I cannot say the same.

I really wish I could explain this feeling, but even if I could, I don't believe I'd want to.

"Make me feel again. Slide across my skin again. Let me uncover you to rediscover you. And I will open up if you promise to give in."

And I make my smooth transitions. Out of drive into reverse and back again. There's something mechanical, automated in the actions we take. Something so seductive. The way your fingers glide so precisely across the keyboard makes me want to vomit out my soul. These spidery motions seem all too natural, and I have to wonder where the line is drawn and where we cease to exist....except virtually, of course. These human beings are dying again. They're simply not listening again.

And the splash of Corona washes over my tongue. A taste I cannot stand. I take mine with a side of Pepsi to cover up the taste.

.

.

.

.

I take my tears with a side of pain to cover up their intent.

"I would leave it all so far behind just to be with you today. So make me feel again. Feel your every breath again. Nevermind everyone. There's only me and you."

A Present Something

"She just wants to love herself."

And maybe she just needs this. Just needs to cry a little. To take another by the coat sleeve in the cold winter chill and bury her heart in a warmth ever flowing. Maybe she just needs someone to listen.

She's been listening to herself so long now that everything feels so overwhelming. And the answers aren't coming. They don't seem to care. It's as if the solution forgot its role and simply allowed the problem to linger uninhibited. She's been listening to her heartbeat every night. Lying, sitting, standing awake all hours just listening to the echo of the blood rush to the temples.

I'm so afraid that someday I'll find her with hands uplifted. A cross attached to a chain around her neck, praying to the east and carving pentagrams into some unwilling surface. I pray myself sometimes. I pray this never happens.

She's listening to those sad songs again. And pretending they don't affect her. She's behaving as though she just enjoys the chorus, always singing along. Somewhere deep inside, she's hurting. And she's masking it well.

I'm praying that someday she forgets her inhibitions and her worries. I'm hoping she lets it go and has her own release session. I'm praying.

She's waiting.

And tomorrow breaks over the horizon again. Just the same as yesterday. The sun sends its rays through half-sheltered windows. The blinds are almost working....I wish they could keep away everything....But the new day still rises. And we can't block out everything forever.

"We grew up too fast; falling apart like the ashes of some flag."

Looking for Purpose

Maybe it's the lack of a stigma, nothing to overcome. I wanted to write "character," but I think stigma is more accurate.

I've met some exceptional people, some truly remarkable individuals. And they give me a glimmer of hope for humanity. But I can't be here for too long. It's far too neutral, impotent, really.

I just...need something greener, maybe? I'm a night person who loves the long days of summer. I've never claimed it makes sense. Maybe it's the diminishing presence of darkness that makes me appreciate it more.

I keep having this dream--even when I'm awake. My friends are smiling all around me. Their closest loves are crowded close by. Outside, unrestrained winds beat everything into the ground, and the Devil eats his own.

Do I venture forth or remain inside?

"When I'm Terrorist Inside"

"At my best when it's all me."

I'm driving right through the eye of the storm. Waiting for it to finish me off or die trying. I absolve myself of all risk in this.

Another chapter closes tonight. Now I can breathe again.

Most importantly, I can still look in the mirror....and smile.

With Claws and a Fierce Determination

An old man dies tonight. He's slipping away, and we all know it. We don't care. His own family just doesn't care. We drive back in these metal chariots twenty kms per hour slower than we would make this trip were we just going to the mall. Somewhere far away I can hear him crying. He's begging God to intervene. He's asking Death on his knees to spare him the sight of darkness. A little girl cries in the front yard. Her face all stained with tears and her heart rending itself open. Small children are always so empathetic like that.

Go back to sleep Go back to bed I heard that he can't anymore I heard him say it I heard the word home I heard it I did

They don't give a fuck about They don't They And I lean my head down now Carve out this pain I feel it in my chest But I know exactly where it's coming from Where it thrives and throbs and pulsates Breeding and ensuring its own survival I want to cut away this mass of nothing I want to take it I want to give it to you I want you to feel this It's getting worse And I know where this is heading Staring Glazed Still driving Feeling somehow invulnerable and yet like the weakest creature Feeling their drugs darting through my veins Telling me Go back to sleep Feeling it tell me things I never want to hear Picking apart my insides while simultaneously making bold statements about stabilization and recovery Bold The pain in my arm tells me I should be on that stretcher It simply refuses to go away

If I could just take this word salad emotional shove it make some sense get life and take a pill remember once a day and PRN I need this can't believe asleep on the couchfloor I'm slipping her shoes flying I hear he hates her he her he he he never told me I hope

I hope

Go back to sleep.

If I could just be ignorant. If I could just be someone. If I could be my someone. Someone else's someone. Someone at all. Why? He tells me I'm the better man. He tells me. He told me so. A better man than he. These poison dreams. I'm awake. I'm asleep. I'm awake. I'm not aware. I'm doing this. I'm not aware I'm doing this. This. The knife will slip right in. I promise, if you can just get on your knees. If you can just get on your knees and pray. I'll protect you. He'll be the one. You'll be OK, protected, OK? Pray for rain, pray for blue skies. Pray for sanity. I'm losing mine. It's going away, and there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. It's leaving me. All I can do is watch the symptoms appear and multiply until it's gone. I've been fighting this cancer in my brain for so long now. But now I know I'm fucking losing.