The Devil

Is my thoughts.

In them, I am tormented,

flayed,

A hundred thousand times

shamed.

The thoughts run rampant

when left unattended.

Their position commands

an authority

that pushes me into places

I have regretted.

There is so much demon fire,

I sizzle when I'm tempted.

The only Devil I've ever

known is myself,

and the rest of existence

need not fear,

She is consumed

In self-indulgence.

How can I fault him?

For wanting to find

Love?

That elusive myth

we all dream of?

The girls don't respect me,

I know. Saying they wish

they were so mature,

but I call bullshit, cuz what grown ass woman would take this shit?

They probably think

I'm such a sucker,

Cuz I have your back,

even when you run away from me

for cover.

But they don't know, baby

(still trying not to call you that

anymore)

The hurt we've seen, the world we have felt...

And even you didn't understand,

how I kept silent,

maybe I enjoyed the familiar hurt.

But really,

my broken bits can't break no more...

I really am broken,

to the core.

And the girls are vapid, and the world is stupid,

And baby,

If you can find happiness,

I'll be cheering for you

Even in the midst

of my lonely Hell.

So, So,

the theory goes,

We are all a part of

Everything Else.

So,

the mind psycher says

"Don't let others define you,

You are your own, independent person."

So,

It is like the Trinity,

Or ingredients in a recipe,

We are human alone,

But humanity together.

So,

If I define myself

the way others see me,

and they're wrong,

And if I define myself by

how I see me, and I'm

wrong,

then myself can never really

be realized,

and is destined to swim in

oblivion and half truths

until I am simultaneously

and paradoxically lost and found.

How could we have known?

The hits we took

the high we flew so long on,

How could we know

what we would become of us

when the inevitable end

came to claim us?

The nights we huddled

together

for warmth,

under the freeway,

where we lived.

How could we have known?

That upon the leaving

of our shunned life,

and the arrival

of all our hopes

and dreams,

we would lose each other.

That what kept us together,

we left behind,

somewhere at the intersection

of Venice and La Cienega.

The crevice opens wide,

yawns; tries to mold itself

to my size.

It's deep,

and it's dark,

but it beckons to me,

wants me,

yearns for me.

And alas,

as I fit nowhere else,

I sigh,

open my eyes to

cry at the worthless sky,

and defeated,

exhausted,

I slide inside.

Alone now

with my music

So the silence

doesn't deafen me.

Releasing myself

into the wild

Of the unknown,

where my knowledge

has always been aware that this

is where the Hope lives.

The scope of loss

can reveal

that there is so much more

to be found,

it just takes a little adjustment,

a little focus,

a little blur,

to break through illusion,

watch your Soul reappear.

Every time I wake up,

I'm someone new again.

I'm losing myself,

forgetting myself,

letting my

autopilot

kick in.

Where is my core?

Where is my Soul?

Where is my pain?

My fault,

Didn't stay in touch with myself

Let time pass by,

goes so much faster

than I thought it could.

A stranger to yourself

is a unique kind of loss.

Doing things without meaning,

Still in Life,

but somewhere, stopped living.

I know there was a struggle,

unrelenting,

never ending.

Is this the result,

my unidentifiable self,

Out of all the unknown,

for which I was striving?