A long time ago, I used to be a dancer.

I started young

and danced for all passions.

Once I was asked to be on a stage

And so on the stage I was

They gave me the beat

And I danced to the tune

I danced and I danced

I danced til my bones ached

And my muscles creaked

I begged for a break

And they begged for me to continue

And so I danced

For as long as there was a tune

There had to be a dance

And the music seemed to be forever long

I spun myself dizzy

And danced myself dumb.

I split myself crazy

And tumbled until there were none more.

My sweat was sweating

I was dancing through puddles

And puddles became streams

And those streams became rivers

And those rivers became floods

And those floods became oceans

And still I danced

I don't know if the tune still played

But my feet would not stop

I could swear there was applause

Or was it the rushing roar of my blood

I think the sounds were in my head

But it mattered no more

Why I could no longer take off my shoes

They became my feet

And beautiful dance clothes now in taters and attached to me

Glued to me, one with my skin

I was the dancer and nothing more

And so I danced still

The part of the jester

With no other role but this one

A dancer with no music

A dancer now old

A dancer who danced till they could no more

And so when my bones squeaked

And my muscles gave out

I collapse on stage in my final bow

And you'd think it's be over but no

In my place they brought a new dancer

And a new song

And they danced and they danced

They danced to the tune

01/12/2024

Love, oh love, that seed of woe,

The heartless flower that kills me so,

Its wretched scent keeps me away,

But its precious petals ask me to stay

It has me in a precarious grip

Trying to made my worries slip

I bring to you my heart on a tray

On this gorgeous day of May

The weakening of legs

Has me looking for eggs

To make you a sweet treat

Now accomplishing that will be a feat You rejected me oh, so nice

So I asked once more-no thrice

And you said no, more and more

As I stand confused staring at your door

You hold another in your hands

It seems you have other plans

I hate when I am not in your gaze

Such awful feeling puts me in a daze

I depise the way you look at her

It puts my heart into a stir

I wish it was me, you were holding

But it's not, so, my plan is unfolding Make her seem like a slut

Make her out to be a mutt

And while your guard is down

To help to change that frown

To get your heart in my mists

To get that whore off your lips

Just man to man, hand in hand

But you shed your heart where you stand

Throwing it in the trash

Saying her love will be your last

It looks like I took a back-step

And some how worsened my rep

I just wanted your love

Not become the hole in your heart above

04/12/2020

So the story continues with the power team of the dynamic demons that plague me. The triple threat that makes Fear and Attachment look little kids. The easiest to deal with is Anxiety. Her hapzardly chopped brown hair is tossed into a messy bun and her teal eyes are always glossed over. Her eyes dart around as she picks at her oversized knit sweater. She picks at it like the things she chooses to stress about. She slips on her fuzzy bunny slippers when she wants to get cozy and fixated on nonexistent fears and made up stressors. Sometimes they are real but she blows them so out of proportion that they've become entirely new issues. Anxiety always wonders what people think of me, how I dress, how I act, how I talk. But Depression slinks over in their onesie, not because its comfy but because its their only clean laundry. Depression hasn't done laundry in over a month and the onesie isn't even clean anymore because they haven't showered in a week. You can tell by the gross, greasy frizz of a mess their hair is in. Depression sits beside Anxiety to let her know that no one is actually judging me because no one cares. I'm not worth their insults and inquiry. Which only makes Anxiety worse because now she has more things to worry about like envitable death and being alone for the rest of my life. There's nothing like having an Anxiety attack while having an Anxiety attack. So Depression goes to chill in their corner looking into their own jade green eyes in their mirror. They hate what they see in their reflection. Dysphoria glares back at them with a sneer. He slips out of the mirror and stands face to face with Depression. Dysphoria's hair is slicked back but he still pulls a comb from his immaculate suit to correct his already perfect hair. He's too good at his job. He even makes Depression hate their self and they love being a junk hermit. So imagine the grief he gives Anxiety. She goes from bad to worse very quick. But his favorite figure of torment is myself of course. He takes Anxiety's words and amplified them. Worrying about how I dress becomes you'll never pass wearing that. He intensifies Depression making their self depracating jokes into daydreams of conversations of discrimination and hate. Anxiety by herself is an easy person to deal with. But when Depression and/or Dysphoria team with her its a nightmare of never ending hate. I get stuck in my head and its so hard to pull myself out. My smile is sometimes a cry for help I mask as happiness because how dare I feel anything but positivity.

I have two fiends, devils, dastardly diguised demons. They always appear in the most inconvenient of times. There are more of these horrid creatures than these two, but none are as talented in ruining every single interaction I have. It's like they work together to make it impossible for me to lead a normal life. The worst one is called Attachment. He is a complete train wreck. Attachment is great at finding love with his bright lovesick seafoam eyes and medium length wavy light brown hair. And he's such a show off, so he's wearing tight muscle shirts and loose basketball shorts. But he also is great at effectively making people run away from in terror. Attachment is territorial, so he goes to extremes to try to keep people in my life. That's where Fear jumps in and helps him. She, in her dreary loose children's clothes, murmurs "what ifs", "maybes", and "this mights" in his ear. Fear's deep emotionless gunmetal blue resembles the bottomless cavern of phobias that plague my soul. Her flat dead burgundy hair is waist length and represents the ties to people they try to save. But Attachment, a hopeless romantic, vyes to receive love in the same amount as he gave it. When he doesn't, Fear nipicks on the situation, jumping to conclusions. Fear amplifies the uncertainties of the relationship. So he attacks with fervor, relentlessly clinging and driving a wedge in the relations instead of tying us closer. The worst part about it is that I fall for it every time. I fall and I fall hard, hitting every single fear as I go down. I try to build a bridge out of the obnoxious attachment and persistent phobias and fears. I ruin it because I can't handle "too much" space. I can't control or contain the phobias or clinging fears. The sticky grasping hook that I put on people important to me.