The brutal truths of living with an everyday illness.
A tradition is the words I use to articulate my moods, the imbalance of emotions that flow out from every vein as I try to contain the evidence from the witnesses around me,
The bitter sadness and regret of unfulfilled potential that haunts my everyday whenever my mind decides to remind me the expectations I fail to live upto in the microscopic of detail,
The elation of passing the milestones that I’ve marked to help me better understand both myself and the role I have to play in all the stories I find myself acting in,
The confusion of never knowing what is reality or fiction due to the uncomprehensible nature of my expectations when allinged with the realisation of what is really happening around me,
My strengths are my weaknesses and my weaknesses some of my biggest strengths, the tightrope of mental stability is an everyday occurrence I wear behind this unconvincing smile,
My anxiety coexists with the heart on my sleeve, in a never ending battle to keep my hopes high enough to see another day, I’ve survived every end of the world thrown at me and walk taller then I’ve been,
Pass not a judgment on the everyday battle some of us fight behind the walls we built to keep people out just as much as to keep our own demons in,
My empathy for everyone that has loved and lost reaches far across the oceans I always write about and know that none of us are truely alone, a losing battle is never always the end of a war so let’s stand together and keep on fighting.
Never Tattoo a memory on an eyelid.
Thoughts that have been buzzing around my head for days, the nights are never ending because every time I dream you always decide to steal the show,
I feel like I’ve tattooed the inside of my eyelids with a portrait of you at your finest and even when I blink I’m reminded that however much I tell myself otherwise that version of you at one point was reality,
The taste of you still lingers on everyone i kiss, to get over by under is a myth that I keep on proving true, searching for the smallest piece of who you are in everyone that I meet,
Time is the healer but it’s also the pest that keeps on nicking away at me when I try to force myself on, every avenue and alleyway I try to descend down leads me back to your bricked up door,
I tell myself a few more weeks and I’ll be fine then I close my eyes and once again come face to face with your portrait, but even if I escape for just an extra second a day I know one day I’ll close my eyes and be embraced by nothing.
Knowing who I am and being a stranger to myself.
Introducing myself to this reflection staring back because I have no idea who that person is, diminishing hope I’ve tried to find at the bottom of every bottle, I’ve made a mastery of finding the best ways to make the same mistakes,
Nostalgic conversation and idealistic realisation paint the canvas that would be the backdrop of my life, I am the artist of my own destruction and the ambassador of my own demise,
I look deep within myself and see the change that is protected by my fear, I sense all the versions of myself I didn’t become waiting to see if it’s finally time to step up and look back at me,
Knowing who I am and being a stranger to myself, an internal conflict that I finally decide to confront, turning my own worst enemy into my greatest ally, it’s time I finally introduced myself to me.
I am Wounded, I am Weak, I am Prey.
Time doesn’t so much pass by as it crawls to its resolution, the wounds that have been healed have been ripped open at the seams, the ghost of you has appeared in the visions of my tomorrow,
a circle of salt surrounding the broken sheets I call home does little to stop the onslaught of idealistic terror you pump into my subconscious, keeping me from embracing the safety of the darkness around me,
I hear the monotonous ticking of the clocks developing into a soundtrack for the lonely, the words weighted on my breath harrowingly call you to cease your ill gained dominance of my mind,
this ghost of who you become has become more powerful then the person you ever were, my dreams and reality are a blur of consequence and regret,
I need to put you to rest by letting go of the part of you that I hoped still remained, holding on and burying the hope deep within myself resulted in nothing more then the manifestation of the person you really was,
I am the wounded,
I am the weak,
I am the prey,
these words I scream out over and over again,
i am the wounded,
i am the weak,
i am the prey,
the clocks rhythm syncs with mine as the words gain momentum, I feel a force driving me like never before,
I am the wounded,
I am the weak,
I am the prey,
The figure in front of me places a hand on my chest “let us both be free” …
I’ll eat all my dreams if you bite the bullet.
I collected all my thoughts together, singled out and swallowed my Visceral dreams more times then I could recollect, I stored them in a metal gunshell that I kept under my lips, so every time we kissed you could taste the way you made me feel,
You once bit the bullet and informed me to throw away any thoughts of us because there’s no coming back from where we’ve been, I fail to recall us ever taking a journey let alone finding a destination which you claim was nothing more then a dead end street,
You’ve been walking for so many miles in your own head, I prayed to any god that would listen to allow the words to fall from your lips so I had a chance to prepare our final rights, but your ears are full of the lies from all the times that you allowed them to be feed.
You find it hard to stop and look at the faces of a staircase you’ve abused to take you places.
Popularity is the corruption to the pleasers, their mouths ran dry as the spit to make your shoes shine dissipates and now it only glistens with the overarching sense of neutrality, dispose of these servants that served the purpose as you seek out the higher ground using all the worn out plastic smiles as a staircase to your selfish agendas,
Hear the echoes of the thank you covered in contempt reverberate across the souls of your feet, smother the lips with every step of your ascention, as you maintain eye contact with a starless sky to avoid seeing the footprints left on the faces of those you deemed unworthy of you to survive,
The further you reach the more distortion the world below your feet unravels, your words that once anchored themselves to the souls of the ones that once were a part of the ground of which your walk was worshiped are now filled up with nothing more then the sound of empty echoes.
The mixed signals mirroring the taste of my own reflection.
The Cacophony of your signals leave me perplexed, disoriented by your carnal desires but left disappointed and dispossessed by your lack of emotional structuring, we wanted a spark just so we could watch the world burn,
More then just a notch on the post of your desperation to be accepted as everything we all know that your not, classically trained in the art of distinction between those that could break you and those your willing to leave in your wake,
Your eyes speak to me of the sadness that lay in the void of your irreplaceable dreams, but your lips taste of nothing more then my next mistake, I wish I was strong enough to fight off someone mirroring my own reflection,
I broke myself and then used every piece trying to fix you, now I watch you break yourself, it’s in the silence when I hear you the most, I find myself lost in these reflections, but it’s in this silence that what I fear the most is the truth.
Secrets and stars in the night sky.
Your aesthetics partly half by design and half by the genetic lottery that you garnered so fortunately still has the tendency to render me useless, experience was no substitute for chemistry but science proved more costly then history,
You’ve always been more then the sum of all your parts but you play the cards so closely to your ample chest because disorientation bestowed you more then honesty,
But it was my words that triggered the final act as a desperate ploy to be noticed, and the replacements that we never thought about had learnt all of our lines in a short space of time long before the final curtain fell,
The poisoned silence discharged from your lips is in contrast of all the secrets you let slip when our worlds collided, but now that you’ve colluded with another world all of the secrets and stars that lit our night sky are slowly dying.
Consumerism for the conscious, Nihilism for the concerned.
Irrelevant? Not if you count both sides to the same coin, flip and wait for the results even though it’s evident you want to get ahead, gamble on the choices that are symbolic to your finite needs, dictate the progress through your live streams with irrational numerical based greed,
Combustable? You’ve taken the book without the matches, before you strike out without a flame for the smoke you so evidently wanted to hide behind, You catch your reflection in a two way mirror unaware of its existence as we all watch with our breath weighted down by your vanitys constant need for validation,
Unattainable? Match the predications against the overlays and repress the need for positive action, the negatives are more then a thumbnail on a cutting room floor it’s a belief that is preventing your ascension, longevity is no longer superior to the instantaneous results of the quick fix death of celebrity,
Unavoidable? Living under a bridge but one with the necessity of an internet connection, configure the anonymity to best suit the unkempt desires that fester from the pores that bleed into the liquids surrounding you, vote for worldwide destruction to solidify the unification of a privileged society in a world dominated by unsolicited transactions.
Faded impression of a once colourful photograph.
You’ve gone but you’re still not forgotten, Every morning I wake I still see the outlines of your faded existence haunting the sheets,
this place we called home is now my cage that I’ll never get clean, the stain and the sorrow hang heavy on the air and I’m sick of breathing you in,
There’s a little piece of you in all that I do and every time i open my wallet in which I stored your photo all I see is that it left imprinted a perfect impression of a faded memory,
A perfect metaphor or an impractical remainder of the days that are passing, days that are slowly becoming harder to articulate the feelings that once weighed me down,
The vividness of yesterday contrasted with the dullness of tomorrow, the inspiration that has fuelled me slowly burning up, We were a meteorite that we once thought would destroy the earth that has become just another pebble on the beach.
You wondered why you sat on the shore staring out longingly to the sea, upon infinite memories of everyone that once burnt bright before one day returning to the sea.