pain

his One

he cares from the shadows –
unknown to his Love.
watching and supporting;
protecting and planning.
sunken into the darkness:
outside looking In.
never a day without thoughts
filled with love and compassion
for the One.
unknown to his Love…
he sometimes allows himself
the guilty pleasure
of thinking about being discovered
and being
loved
by his One.
but,
unknown to his Love,
he feels the torment and pain
of being unknown in a knowable world.

his only comfort is knowing, though,
that his One is living happier than before.
and this is his only mission:
to love a Love although unknown.

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Pain

Red-cloaked and black-shoed:
It strolls nimbly into life…
Not a care but to cause…
Emotionless and cruel;
Hard and cold.
Streaks of blood seep
Slowly out of deep wounds
And crimson tears carve a neat path
Downward lonely cheeks.
It envelopes the insides,
Wrapping itself tightly around
The organ that beats against the force and
Gives life while being given death.
Untouchable, undiagnosable.
Cruel. Cunning.
Sharp-shooting. Deep-wounding.
Full of itself.

Sonnet of Consequence

I am a canvas with a unique shade –
Why do you laugh and stare with such disgust?
This is my life, this is how I was made;
We are born the same and return to dust.
The words break me like stones break fragile glass,
I sink deeper into my own despair:
I fight against the hate in every class;
Life’s face is cruel when you are past repair.
Every time I get up to fight again,
I do not want to be kept down and out!
Hope gets blurred through the strain and pain;
I counter the hateful torturous shout.
Yet deep within I know there is defence:
Karma gets us and plans the consequence.

Blackout

I writhe – convulse – contort
Slick-slap!
Fall, smack!
Face hits concrete
and the blood flows and flows and flows and flows and flows and flows and flows and flows…
I gasp – air!
Blackout.

Lucid. Snap! Reality.
A pain – I search for locus.
In my chest. Pain.
My heart – it beats
and adrenaline soars slickly slither sizzle.
Alertness: cold.
A hand of truth grips my throat;
tightens: hate.
Blackout.

Needles in my arm;
poison in my veins;
evil in my eyes.
Blackout.

Alone, single blue light…
Dull but hopeful…
Naked in front of audience!
I must dance:
I fall. They cheer. I stall.
Blackout.

Save me! From myself!
Desperate screech. Desperate.
Help.
Sinking in hell’s fire.
Drowning in holy water.
Death.

Blackout.

Brother

I stare out of the misted window at the snow
And somehow I see your young face and I know
That you’re safe now away from the pain
Because you’re safely aboard Heaven’s luxury train.
Your smiling face brightens up my dark days;
It gives me strength, makes me brave in indescribable ways.

I can carry on knowing you’re with me;
Through me perhaps you can be.
Even in the salty tears of my heartache
I see your strength and it makes my demons seem fake.
You went too soon via a way too cruel:
This is my motivation, my fuel
Because one day I will heal the scars,
Turning the burnt out souls into stars.

It was the hardest thing to see leave,
But I know that you could no longer breathe.
One day I’ll see you again and we can share
Our stories we couldn’t bear.

In your final hours I felt your soul shine;
And it was then I knew it would all be fine.

Cartoonist

A soft crescent moonlit evening
lights the garden and exposes
the weeds that should have been removed.
He slips carefully into the hammock between
the two trees and sips his drink
as he stares at the mocking moon.

He cries, as he always does, and longs
for his lost love.
All he wanted was the look
she gave his best friend the day
they ran off together.
Instead he got a note on his car window
(it was in the red lipstick he bought her):
SORRY NOT SORRY
His heart wasn’t broken for that implies
the heart must have been intact.
He simply hoped his suspicions were false.

The night-wind flows through his hair
and he puts down the glass, takes a pen
and scribbles his nightly pain in
the form of a cartoon.
Tonight:
A giant half-heart and a bloodied knife,
a simple caricature of his feelings.
He signs his forgotten name below
and goes inside his
empty house.

Apple Blossom

“But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.”

The Song of Wandering Aengus, W. B. Yeats

The way you looked at me the first time our eyes met. We both knew it was something more. Eyes can says a thousand things in a single second. It felt right. They way you looked at me made me feel special… Maybe that’s why I loved you so much… People always look at me with longing, or lust really. You looked at me differently, you saw deeper… You looked beyond my face. You looked straight into my soul.

You loved me selflessly, and you promised that you’d give everything up in the world if you had to just to keep me. (Pause to recollect.) And you did. You gave your life to save mine… You were the one who completed me, you completed me in my incomplete world. It’s hard when you’re a model and your world is built on superficiality. You don’t know who your true friends are or who is there using you as a beautiful accessory. At least with you I felt real.

You were so secure in yourself, that was so attractive to me. You were the one beating the insecurities out of me. (Slight laugh.) Weird how life works like that. Maybe the priceless oil paintings are painted by the most damaged hands.

I can tell you one thing… They’ll remember you forever, and that’s your dream! A legacy, the legacy you worked so hard towards. So whenever I feel lonely I’ll come to this apple tree and I’ll remember this day, the day I scattered your ashes… I’ll remember our first date under this tree where we shared our first kiss and made love for the first time… Where we both felt happiest. And when the red apples are ripe I’ll remember your smile. I’ll remember I’m your apple blossom and you’re my red apple. Because I’m the beauty and you’re the substance.

hurt You

please don’t feel me
don’t feel for me
feel for another
me no

You mustn’t be another x
i don’t want You in pain
pain at my numb hands
and heart

please just walk away
i know how you feel because
i feel the same but please
i dont want to hurt You
time will make the feelings go away
but time will never heal
the scars i’d give Your heart

please run away as fast
as You can
if You see me near
turn away
close Your heart to me
just me don’t let me in

i’m broken
if You step in my life
You’ll step on my broken pieces
and they’ll cut You open
and You’ll bleed out in pain

I try turn away,
say I understand.
“I’ll heal you!
I’ll make you whole again!”
But no…
I must turn away from
this lovestructive force,
but just know I’ll always see
you in the face of those I love.

Because you were my first.

Different

I. Genesis

Under the microscope;
probed and prodded.
Considered abnormal –
in need of changing –
because in this world
if you’re not ‘normal’
you need fixing.
Put through the various tests
and told not to be
good enough for
Society’s expectations.
Finally diagnosed,
as if a disease:
flesh treated as a virus.

II. Passion

Suffering at the merciless
hands of a pack of wild
collective consciousness;
targeted like a hurt lamb.
Ripped emotionally
and taunted like a
helpless puppy.
Each new sunset filled
not with hope and
new beginnings, but
with the start of renewed
enthusiasm on the part of
the oppressors.
They do not even know
what destruction
they plant in this field…
They do not even know….

III. Revelation

Discovery that all
the scrapes and
emotional scars were
all part of the plan
to make
stronger; braver.
Finally understanding that
potential is unlocked once
darkness has been faced
and struggle has been tasted.
After listening
for so many years to
the metallic screams and taunts
of a system wanting different
to fit its mould,
it is revealed that it
can all be overcome.

IV. Exodus

Surviving the mountainous
hurt and strife;
clawing and gnawing
through swine to get
to a place of self-understanding.
Finally free from
the hurt, the pain, the suffering.
Ready to flee from
the pool of torment
leaving everything,
and everyone,
behind.

Tattoo (Stream of Consciousness)

It stains the skin eternally like a love lost that will never return. For if it were to return it would destroy the beautiful pink roses and leave in its wake a wide void of destruction. The tears will roll like the seas and the currents will electrify the skies. The day will come when all the pain fades away… until then the bullet wounds of emotional destruction remain gaping holes for the world to view like they are giant museum pieces waiting for your applause and approval.

As we all sit in the waiting room with the constant buzzing sound and clashing of piano keys in no order or sense, we delve deeper into our meaningless lives and sink, sink, sink in the voids of our depression and mechanical life doings. Singing along to the songs of society that we have been indoctrinated into believing hold the truth, the way, the light, the life, the truth.

Trickling down the side of the statue is a new kind of blue blood which is poisonous but majestic as it runs down into the drain and filters through your tap and creates absurd assumptions and preconceptions in your mind. But you will continue to drink because it tastes so good and if not why not. “THIS IS MY LIFE!” you scream from the rooftops of your own creation and expect people to understand and say OKAY while they sit back and watch you kill yourself slowly, willingly.