Broken Glass

Reflection glaring back at me,

I hate what you’ve become

An empty husk, and broken remnant of ties undone

The wrathful, pitiful, haunting specter lingering on

Wailing, and weeping for a treasure now long gone

I loathe your form, but find compassion in knowing a heart so bitterly torn

Standing over shards of broken glass,

here I am

Cut me up, and bleed me dry

No matter how much I scream and cry, here I am

Standing over the shards of broken glass, the little pieces of me

Even when my body is scattered to the wind,

here I am

Reflection of the other me, the image of no true wealth

A vision of all that I see wrong in myself

The weak soul, unable to crawl

One left wallowing, and pitying after every fall

I despise your appearance, but find sympathy in a mind so depressed

Standing over shards of broken glass,

here I am

Cut me up, and bleed me dry

No matter how much I scream and cry,

here I am

Standing over the shards of broken glass, the little pieces of me

Even when my body is scattered to the wind, here I am

Standing over shards of broken glass, the little pieces of me

Projecting a broken up, and mangled creature

A magnified depiction of every unattractive feature

Standing over shards of broken glass,

here I am

Reflection grinning back at me,

I know what you are

Desperate shade, hiding painful scars

Lacking, longing, empty spirit drifting by

Waiting, asking, begging to truly die

I abhor your presence, but find understanding in a soul left bleeding

Standing over shards of broken glass, here I am

Break me down, a bury me deep

Allow me rest, allow me sleep

Even when the maggots come,

Here I am, standing over these shards of broken glass. “

Spotlight

Spotlight upon me, shining evermore.
It is bright, warm, and awe inspiring.
But despite its glow, I shine brighter.
I am the star, the focus, center of attention.
The stage is the world, and the world is mine.
It is here where I give my greatest performance and steal the show.
I am neither arrogant, nor prideful,
But glory unto my act, and unto to me as I perform.
I perfectly maintain the facade.

I finish, but there is no applause.
No standing ovation, no congratulations, no simple gratitude.
Disturbed, but unshaken.
I have been taught and trained to maintain composure at all times.
I take my bow, but not of my own will.
I am forced down by the weight of insecurity.
The silence is sickening, disheartening, debilitating.
The spotlight remains, and I wallow in hidden agony.

Spotlight upon me, and its exaggeration of my weaknesses.
It is now the glaring microscope harshly trained on my inadequacies.
I am small, an ant under its influence, belittled by it’s taunting gleam.
Left open, and made aware of my vulnerability.
I am naked, stripped down to my most basic self.
From uplifting to scrutinizing at a moment’s notice.
What is left will make my final show,
My last appeal bask in the light,
And receive its love.
But there is none.

Spotlight fades, and darkness rules.
Thoroughly robbed of all I had.
Yet the grasp of the abyss is fleeting.
The blackness lifts as the theater lights fall.
Illumination brings clarity.
With enlightenment I can see the faces.
Everyone in the crowd is the same,
A homogeny of non-existent expression.
Blank canvases all around.
Nothing moved, nothing there.
What was once mine, now belongs to us all.
But only I know what was lost.
The isolating spotlight has lifted,
And this new light is now shared,
But I am still alone in this empty theater.

What

What is it when love is not enough to give?

After I’ve given my time, and have little enough for myself to live?
What is it when these eyes shed more than just little tears?
With the pouring oceans, representing my nightmares and fears.
What is a held hand, in the endless story of letting go?
Just a weak symbol, something as fleeting as the Spring’s snow?
What to give to when the rivers run dry?
Is it the soul? The weakening look in my eye?
Will that be enough when I draw lest breath and die?
Where do I find it?
How do I get it?
What is it, when the colossal effort is just too small?
After a tireless fight, after I gave it my all?
What is it, that thing I’ve forgotten?
That thing I’ve search for, ignoring whatever the cost?
For everything that’s slipped away, and all I’ve lost?
What isn’t, when it’s just not enough?
What is that thing when I’m filled with weakness, but pretend I’m tough?
Where do I find it?
Does it exist ?
What is when love is not enough?
What is the price? Is it too steep?
Where is that thing, the jewel I’m forbidden to touch?
How do I grab it?
How do I hide it away?
I need to know before my final day.

Unraveled|Undone

Bond of blood

Bond of brotherhood

Bonds are broken

Bonds are lost.

Binding links

Like shrinking chains

A short leash

A quick change.

Tying knots

Unraveled and undone

Shattered dreams

Leaving one.

To despair

Inevitable feeling

Fading memory

Imminent fall.

Final song

A sirens call

Departing hour

Biting past

Broken bonds

Where chains don’t last.

Intoxication: Relapse

Stay away I tell myself, but I miss the feel.
I love, I crave.
The sickening addiction I can’t escape.
Helpless, and a slave.

Intoxication.

Through my veins, into my soul.
Clear my mind, and take me whole.
Melt my pain with numbing flow.

Intoxication.

Every hit I feel freed, and chained down as I bleed.
I hate what this does.
But for more, I beg, I plead.

Intoxication consuming me.

There, and back, and back, and back again.
Repetition is comforting, the habit consoling.
But poisons break me down.

Intoxication.

I’m shaking in, all the way to the bone.
Withdrawal leaves wanting, and wanting again.
For the next, I need, I desire.

Intoxication burns like fire.

Filled with lust, disgusting hunger.
Stealing, taking, the things not mine.
Thrown away to quell my want.

Intoxication, I’m suffering.

Inevitable Finality

Embrace the sun, for nothing is everlasting.
In time, all light fades.
No soul, no man, no thing is beyond its passing.
Look to the stars, and know that their light is dead.
Distant, cold and lifeless husks whose legacy is far from the truth. The lie, the hands that are red, stained with the illusions.
Encumbered by the dishonest, and false portrayals.
Into the dusk, all things tread.
The candle, like passion burns brightly in the night air, but burns away at a moment’s notice as if never even there.
Coming into fruition are all the things that were never meant to be.
The simple anomalies, the blatant denials and rejections, an imposed reality.
Culminating ruination speaks as loudly as it speaks clear.
Utterances of the things none wish to fall upon their ears, but the course is set.
Stay the course, and do not forget.
The feelings of the leaving moments, the fleeting nature of all things, and the inevitable finality.

The Lone Star

Distant, the faintest sound.
Alone, and away from the crowd.
Tears stain these sunken cheeks.
Sanity slips, madness peaks.
Starved, and deprived.
A husk left where life thrived.
The star of my galaxy, burned out and dead.
The black hole, the pit of the void left in it’s place consumes all.
Ripping, and tearing even light from the cosmos.
Darkness.
My end all, be all.
My King, my, Lord, and my God.
The warm embrace at night.
The faint comforting words that set me to sleep.
The failed remedy to scars etched deep.
The darkness looms, and is all that stays.
The loyal one in a world of many strays.
Hello darkness, my old friend.
The one I turn to when good things end.
Or rather the one I am forced to greet.
No matter where I run, it’s you I meet.
No arms to hold me tight, to shun the dark, and keep the light.
Distant, the faintest sound.
Alone, and away from the crowd.
The only other star in the galaxy, burned out and dead.
Leaving my weak light behind instead.

Opposite Ends and Separate Flows

The shots come from around every corner.
Whizzing by, I try to duck and hide.
Death is in the air and I’m terrified.
Every step I make seems to be wrong.
Before I’m hit, it won’t be long.
The push away from what good is left.
Letting the broken stay broken in the end.
The shabby bridge I just can’t seem to mend.
No matter how much I suppress myself and try to bend.
It feels like it’s over, but I don’t want it to be.
I’m scraping the bottom of the empty barrel, trying to hang onto eternity.
It doesn’t seem to be working.
My palms are sweaty and my voice is coarse.
My eyes are blind, and my head is spinning.
I keep on fighting, but there doesn’t seem to be a chance of winning.
It’s hard to let go, and then let go.
It’s hard to be good, and not know.
On opposite ends, and separate flows…

When The World

When the world comes crashing down, who will be there to catch it?
When the seas run dry, will you be there to refill them, or will the tears be the source?
When the forests die, how will the world breathe?
Can trembling hands plant new seeds?

When the world starts to fall, who will pick it up and help it turn again?
When the volcanoes roar, will you be there to calm its rage, or will deaths be the sedative?
The mountains crumble away, and the dust spreads on winds that soon die.
Chaos rules, and discord thrives. Order lost with broken ties.

When the world ends, does it ever start again?
Does the void consume all within?
When the darkness wins, who will let the light be?
Will it be you, when it can’t be me?