Asleep in your dream They whisper in your ear As if they were beside you Delicately, dulcetly, in the voice of a kiss "Show us who you are,..." They tear away your covers, And you'll probably awake.
Being loved for me
Without expectation or fantasy
Seems difficult to believe
With my experience of me.
Not so much a wreck,
I survive and reflect
On which parts feel neglect
Like an Art without affect.
My solace is stained,
In my solitude contained
With a sadness ingrained
And expression estranged.
I mumble and shake,
Needs pulsing and awake,
Demanding that I break
Whatever is at stake.
I’ve worn out these flaws,
Dissected their causes,
Accepted my losses,
But still wrapped in their familiar claws.
Quietly, I can express my needs and wants.
A laugh, a good thought, and a gentle fuck.
Judge honestly, but don’t hate me.
I never meant to be so much a pity.
Far enough forward triggers regress.
Love is the idiotic fantasy I’ve missed.
Guilt disturbs not my persona’s visage,
Knowing vanity is only shameful without substance.
Every day is a tedious dream to live unrestrained,
In constant delay and imposed constraints.
Reaching out becomes languidly cheap.
Everyone seems shallow when you’ve hidden yourself deep.
Lived too long and not enough,
Though experienced more than the time was worth.
Years pass and thoughts persist unfazed,
But I’m old enough to be tired of my own malaise.
I would tear my heart open in a second,
Were it not for fear of punishment.
Insults are nothing, but criticism still hurts.
It’s horrific guessing what your identity is worth.
Should I redress my name?
Should I assess my every action?
Would you think I was stealing
If I seemed more like you?
Can angry boys grow up to be women,
And would it make her less man?
Speak in slow, delicate tones.
Poetry, books, and music,
Love, sex, and fragrance,
A dream away,
Ghosts, vivid as any indelible memory,
Opaque characters complex as any pain.
Whispering phantoms of fancy and debate,
Debased to be displayed within me.
Fragments of former friends and foes
Haunting the pensive moments of my mind.
Frequently visiting my somber silences
To stimulate my passive passions.
Enticing my impulses to aggravation,
My bitter hates and petty joys,
And long past my solemn recompense
They goad me into fits of familiar disillusion.
The remembered and imagined coalesce
Into perfect torments for my indolence,
So whatever quiet moments I acquire
Inevitably fill with vexatious rants.
Leave me be, but never go too far,
As long as I need to fill these voids.
As much as I move on, you’re still my ghosts
And I need your stimulation to survive.
Maybe once I’ve passed along
From one sad form into the next,
I’ll fill the quiet with better voices
And forms that leave me better vexed.
Resurrecting past emotions.
A litany of shit and shame
Deliberately targeted on the present moment.
Tangent upon tangent,
Trauma upon trauma,
Surfacing up to swallow
The security of my bondage.
Like the restless dead
Shrieking as their unearthed,
Naked in the light of day,
Tortured by the slightest sensation.
My life hurts.
All the painful memories replay.
This is My Hell.
This is everything I’ve tried to escape.
Wait for everything to bleed away.
Hold onto nothing,
Give it up,
Let it go.
Reality was harsh
Recognition was worse
Revelation was unbearable.
I could find truth
I could accept myself with it
But I couldn’t relate it to anyone.
I could argue
And I could explain
But never enough to satisfy.
I could relax
And I could let it go
But it couldn’t ever leave me.
I want to be real
To be honest and understood
But I’ve learned not to expect it.
I learned to stay quiet
To hide behind an empty face
But I can’t always help it.
I need to let it out
But I know there’ll be pain.
So much held back for so long,
And I know it’s gonna be Hell.
When time passes and slips by so fast,
When I contemplate all that I’ve missed or forsaken,
It pains me to acknowledge my own mistaken steps,
To realize my fault in those moments taken.
To have aged to such a point missing out,
To have lost so many loves I should’ve cherished,
To be floating, numbing myself to indifference,
To have drifted past chances and watched them perish.
Will wisdom prove the worth of my decisions?
Have I lost too much to ever fully recover?
Do empathy and arrogance measure so equally?
Will hiding myself lead anyone to discover?
Choices, to decide what to do, what to be, who I am.
To be, my identity, with vulnerability and shame.
To understand, hidden weaknesses will never leave you.
Emotions leave you empty and cold when restrained.
Too many lost chances, too many disappointments.
Too long living sheltered, pretending to be free.
It feels time to die and murder insecurity.
To live again, opening as wide as I can be.
Past the cellar doors and down the longest stairway,
Down the twisted steps of splintery rotted wood.
The cold and damp walls dripping wet with moisture,
And the dank earthy aroma fills my nose.
Minutes pass before I even reach the bottom.
The floor is carpeted, musty, and filthy with dirt.
It’s hard to breathe comfortably down here,
But there’s work to be done, however bad it hurts.
I tear the carpet open with my bare hands,
I rip and pull it out until it’s completely gone.
The floor is nothing now but moistened black dirt,
And an open pit that was covered so long.
Planks of aged wood cover this open sore.
I start pulling them away one by one.
Dirt and dust cover me, and fall into the abyss.
Slowly light begins to shine through the cracks.
Peering down into the pit I finally see,
I see the creature that was trapped and hid away.
I see it looking out, our eyes lock together.
What I saw down there,.. was me,… but not in just any way.
I shuddered,… I gaped,… My heart’s bleeding again.
So well hidden. So,… cruel and barbaric,… Is that really what I am?
You’re the greatest high I reach for,
One that I could never grasp.
You’re the ideal I hold highest,
I fall short of, I collapse.
Something I should never have,
I should never be trusted with.
Like I shouldn’t look too hard,
But I’m too restless to resist.
Only one way holds respite,
Pain is sure with or without.
Damn me if I reach too high,
Or love me and reach out.
You scare me so completely,
The things I know you do.
Tie my stomach into knots,
And petty lust ensues.
It hurts my heart to think of,
My nerves will jolt and twitch.
I’m not your precious moment,
And it makes my stiches itch.
I drew you as the pinnacle,
I let you get too deep.
Wanting what I cannot have,
I’ll lose myself in sleep.
I feel tired, worn out, and exhausted.
Ageing faster than my mind is maturing.
Unceasing stimuli of sporadic thought,
Insomnia, sleepless daydreams occurring.
I feel drugged, comatose and stupid.
Staring endlessly, seeing nothing outside.
Contemplations rearranging my perceptions,
Creating illusions and epiphanies I must abide.
I feel thoughtful, diligent and wise.
Evaluating and measuring all intuition.
Life examined, dissected and simplified,
Knowing the rhyme and reason of decision.
I feel angry, agitated, and upset.
To be known, disregarded or misunderstood.
Inconvenient, unrealized, undesired,
Willing, but unable to slow if I could.
I feel like friends and family ignore me,
Avoid me for the sake of comfort and peace.
I feel like they cannot acknowledge,
I know them better , and my intuition won’t sleep.
I feel Isolated,
I feel like talking to you and hanging out because I’m Isolated,
I feel like talking to you and hanging out for three hours then going home so I can be Isolated.
I feel like I want to be with you,
I feel like I miss you and that we should never be together.
I feel like it’s a missed chance,
I feel like I’m glad we missed it, we’re better off,
But I still miss you.
I feel like there’s nothing to say,
Like you’ll see what I mean when I’m ready.
Like I’ve been waiting a long time, growing and changing,
And you’ll soon see what I’ve created.
I feel like heartache,
Like if I wasn’t so cold I’d be bleeding,
If I hadn’t been numbed at such a young age,
Like I would be helpless and bleating.
I feel untouchable,
Like it’s almost too late for me to ever feel vulnerable,…
I feel love for you,
And I’m not cruel enough to dismiss it.
If I suffer for you,
I can’t complain for forgiveness.
If you suffer for me, I promise not to forget it.