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Weak And Starving

I know you’re starving

Your supply of love has withered

And you’re craving for affection

But pretending to be indifferent.

I know you’re scared

Who could blame you if they knew

After all that you’ve been through

Asking for love would seem precarious.

I know you’re hiding

Wearing a mask to protect yourself

Concealing your needs from the vultures

And projecting your strongest face.

I know you’re tired

Exhausted from playing these games

Hardening and freezing your heart

As it begs to open up and bleed.

You’ve learned how easily a tender heart can wound,

How anyone that loves you knows just where you’re weak.

People forcing people to shelter their desires,

Preying on each other for that taste of love we seek.

I know how well you’re guarded, I recognize the signs.

I know the risks involved with trying to score some love.

I know we’re on alert for any weakness in another,

Waiting for our chance to steal away some of that drug.

I understand, I see you, and I know we’re all afraid.

I really need a taste myself before I fade away.

If we could call a truce, set our fears and worries free,

I’ll lick all of your wounds if you’ll do the same for me.

 

Lay Awake

Stillness and restraint,

A body bound in ruffled sheets.

Living, but sedate,

Concerned only with its dreams.

Needful little wishes,

Faintly nibbling at perfection

For unresolved conflicts

Shrouding comfort in their impression.

Disassociate the brain,

In separation from the ache

Of toil’s jagged teeth

Dragging steadily while awake.

Restore and repair

The imbalances in the night.

Feeling and fantasy

Flowing inward, mind alight.

Purest completion,

Sheltered from the pangs of life.

Inverted creation,

Eyeless sockets stealing sight.

 

 

 

 

There Is No Path

Maybe no one is truly aware

As much as we aim to be.

Living, growing, transformation,

Post-stagnation apathy.

A step forward is learned

As all mistakes are lessons.

Lack of use atrophies

Like love does in depression.

Lost in some quagmire

I’m watching you flail

With the confident notion

I’ve passes where you fail.

It’s pitiful to see,

But each life is its own.

As much as I’ve flailed

Is as much as I’ve known.

But even one step

In your chosen direction

Could lead you astray

In an open-end question.

Answers are elusive,

However much we must learn,

But even a fragment

Of perception is well-earned.

 

My Recurring Themes

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.

Aspirations, Confessions, Anxieties

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?

 

Enough, enough.

Speak in slow, delicate tones.

Gardens, streams,

Mountains, flowers,

Poetry, books, and music,

Love, sex, and fragrance,

A dream away,

A lifetime.

For No One To Find

When you can casually bleed

While your psyche screams,

Congratulations,

No one else will ever see.

Your imprisoned esteem

Only needs to breathe

Once in a while

To keep from getting free.

At persona’s relieve

Feel free to release

In humbled bursts

What trembles underneath.

As awful it seems,

It’s only a need

Left unsatisfied

By conventional means.

Carry on incomplete

In your vital deceit

Until maybe one day

You’ll be eased.

 

Blissed

I’m saving for a life,

For the prospect of better moments

Outside of time wasted

On boredom, sleep, or pain.

Exposing every injury,

Exploring my faults and fears

To the very roots of consciousness

Proves essential to progress.

Dilemmas and desires cross

Like first-loves and jealous lust,

Eroding us internally

Until we bleed them out.

Our most blissed moments

Exist long enough to be missed,

As in, yearning for whole hearts

After they’ve been severed.

Perfection is ever sought,

Though most agree it’s impossible,

So we live for those moments

When we can’t feel any flaws.

On The Ledge Again

Surrender myself to chasms deep,

At odds with mortal terror.

Survival instincts contradict

Material or internal needs.

Last year’s leaves encircling,

Burying me in a peaceful sleep

Until my head starts swirling

And I fly for ledges to leap.

River valleys with shallow water

And jagged rocks like teeth,

Attractive like the sudden spurt

Of shivering flesh in sweet relief.

Spread my placid, brittle wings

Against the pummeling of my heart.

The whispered words within my brain

Inhibiting my space to breathe.

Falling, laughing, painful happy tears,

Giving scars a chance to bleed.

Awoken from the fallen leaves

Asleep, again, perchance to dream.