Reaching out.

Lightening strikes. The chime bells chime. The chorus echoes. The colors fade. All that remains.
All that's holy. All that's kind. Lost and Found.

This is heaven to no one else but me, and I'll defend it as long as I can be, left here to linger in silence.

What I chose, from where I've come.

The debris of a broken soul.
The scraps of an untamed mind.

The desires which I run to fulfill. And the loneliness I attempt to disguise. The broken smiles to fix to lighten my mind. An unfurled heart to escape this cavern of eddying hope. Alas, the bright light. I walk. Glide into the arms of togetherness and bliss.
I hold its hand and wrap my fingers with its. I duck down and hear its heart beat. It beats. It breathes. The warm breath that imparts hysteria to my cold numb being. The only thing that calms me. The next best place to home. The glinting eyes that motion for forgiveness and benevolence. I believe. I am beautiful. It makes me believe. I am beautiful.

Falling Apart

So this past week has been hurdles all along. What becomes of the next few months, years, lifetime. Who knows? All I know is if asking for what you rightfully deserve is a sin then I'm Damien. It's deplorable. These standards we set for ourselves. These routines we determine which hold no good reason or sense. And to top it all off, the we fight to save it. What for? For a new beginning to more unstoppable nonsense. Why do people get themselves involved in stuff like this? Why do I?

Especially men with their chauvinistic approaches to things and that stuck up mentality that permits no imagination or liberation for that matter. Treat me like I'm human, for Christ's sake. I too may have demands, expectations. And all of that, just gets thrown out of the window, each time they're mentioned. Indeed, this is some one sided story, but My Blog, My rules. My generalizations. I'm so sick of these compromises and these "forever" promises. Let me breathe.

Spotting

Pointing fingers and asking questions to no one in particular. Trying to find the meaning of this bit. Is it just a phase or a little more than just that? Is it just a nightmare waiting to be believed and then to haunt every possible outcome of it's existence?
What is right? Who decides? Since when have we become moral police for just about everybody else? Why is every sacrifice looked upon as a favor or debt? It's humiliating. Selflessness is a long forgotten virtue and yes, we built the void and then, complain. The human way to escape. The sane way to live. Shying away from what is real and cooping up in holes of disguise and deceit. The new way to live. And we live. Lavishly. Luxuriously. Conscience knocks but we ignore knowing we'd have to face reality and oh! that sunshine will burn us to bits. Crawling to protection. Hoping for that one inch of space, which has been traded with that extravagant smile.
Spotting.
The wrong, the bad, the good, the great. Conquering a delusional state and living in it for us. For you. Squeezing in that scrap of integrity to stand with my head held high. Beside you. For you to look down at me and want me. But for how long? Stretching the limits beyond and away. How long do I hold on. Can't be insane anymore. Can't wish for perfection, no more. Perfection closed its door right from when it was ajar and I miscalculated and shut it tight.
Spotting.

Fading.

Extinguished.

Elsewhere...

A ballad that describes my love.

Did Sarah Mclachlan, read my unscripted autobiography and then decide to sing this song. It is for anyone who has been misunderstood, unheard or perhaps done wrong. A soulful mix of pain, hurt and what I like to call, the sweet revelation.

And yes, it is addictive. Like a drug.

Patrick Jablonski Masterpieces.

Speaking to me

When things go wrong, everything seems wrong. And when the little ray of hope shines, all the misery seems so worth it. And yet, we seem to overlook what is the essence of that hope, misery or sorrow. In our own pursuit of happiness we forget what we must truly be grateful to. Everyone has those bad phases in life. when nothing seems to strike a chord with what you really want. In fact, you become so detached that you let yourself go. One hundred percent. It's emancipation- the soul from it's body. You connect. And that's when you know you've seen it all and you could die right then and have no regrets.

Being 18, you wouldn't think such an opportunity would come knocking at my door. It is that time of life when you think you own the world and you strut your stuff like you don't give a damn. Loud music blares in your head and you dance to its tunes like the pied piper's mice. Amusing. Nothing can satisfy or hold your attention for more than 2 days and if it does, then well there you have it- Naysa, miracle of god. The world seems like a spinning wheel of fortune right now. To me atleast. Every spin can change my life and in some bizarre way I'm enthralled by the idea. I'm not a rebel but I don't like convention. I'm not gothic but I don't like the butterflies and the spring. I'm not angry, but I don't like to smile a trillion watts. I'm not a realist, but I don't like imagining my life through. So where does that leave me? In this dark alley that extends beyond life, truth, love, fantasy, existence.Oh, and such are the thoughts that infiltrate my mind all year long. A hard outer covering protects me from the permeating hypocrisy that has taken over the best of us. But inside, it's a whirlpool of delusion, indecisive derivations and mind boggling questions. So who is in a hurry to answer all my questions? I don't think I'd answer all of them ever. The truth about life and death, of love and hate, of right and wrong and all the roads less traveled.

Misanthrope Monolugue, it is

Simple sayings swindle slowly
Mystic feelings choke and gag me
Inhibitions drop down to earth
I fall from grace but it doesn't hurt.

Polka dots, stars and stripes
My veins are clogged blood rushes in pipes
Voices boom, echo and fade
Reminiscing the moment, I swayed.I swayed.

Marching soldiers, dancing dwarfs
Fairy tales and real life both morphed
Smoke rises out of sight
I look above and see a bright white light.

Angels don't sing, the clouds don't part
The light vanishes,the clouds depart
Nothing remotely sensational sails
My thoughts provoked, mind impaled.

Mindless mumbles, blabber and spew
Conscience knocks,fearful reviews
Dejected opinions begin to sink in
I gulp another glass of tonic and gin.

Drunk, stoned, out of wits
Another day, same story remits
No help, no hand to hold and caress,
My life's a series of crimes I confessed.

Here I am now, in a lone corner estranged
Feeling delusional and endlessly deranged
The mind of a troubled rebel recluse
Head spinning free endless torture induced.


And so it goes. The mind of a troubled recluse. What is so torturous? What is so painful? Questions that swindle from one being to another and yet rest in the fissures of nothingness and eternity.

Besides Me...

And all that is left of me is bits and scraps that the old dogs ever so kindly refrained to touch.
For all those times I counted tears that fell in my lap, and the heart that crashed and burnt. For every memory long forgotten and every sacrifice unnoticed.

Nothing completes as well as this. People hear but no one listens as well as this. My drug, my addiction, my passion. And no you don't take this away. Because I am stronger than ever before. Holding on. Passing over. Moving on.

Hated you ever since I cried in your arms and you washed it away with no loving. And you are family, I suppose. Give me the li'l pink bicycle and the purple hoola-hoops, the black worn out sneakers and the puddles of mud in the rain. The backyard swing set. The silver stars. The Halloween treats. The nuzzling.

How would you take it away? the pain, the hate, the lies, the empty promises.

Betrayed.