I Wish I Could’ve Been Myself

What was personified and what was genuine

Are so terribly mixed, I’m unsure.

That which bewilders is beset

With doubt between what’s real and pure.

Make-believe and masquerade

My many truths beffudled in mystique.

A sample of a splinted soul

Shrouded in saturations oblique.

Deciet drawn with smiles

To distract from fractured truths.

My naked self encased away

In case of breakage or missuse.

Secrets so nobody knows

The depths of misery I contain,

The shame and weakness

I consume and in my fear sustain.

I wish that I had been myself

But being myself, what a mess was made.

A look beneath my stained visage

Betrays the oceans I’ve kept restrained.

It’s coming soon, I must confess,

My will and levies are going to break.

So when I finally be myself

My tears might drown away my aches.

Maturity

Maturing day after day,

“Act your age” is just a phrase,

Natural action happens regardless

Of any percieved phase.

Growing is a pain,

Transition and change strain

Established habits so well

We almost break.

So laying awake,

Dreaming of a peaceful state

Like youth in love with death

For innocence’s sake.

The world shapes,

Hyperactivity anticipates,

The mind trys making sense

While feelings ache.

Some things fade

And sometimes we come late,

But forevermore ageing

The Act remains the same.

 

Streaming Life Anywhere

Judging value

In indiscriminate measure

Through the process

Of identifying constants

Amid variable personas.

Chaotic babble

Interwoven with emotions

Clouding personallities

In insepid debate

Signifying little.

Introspective hell

Latching onto safe platforms

Expressing the darkest depths

Of existential dread

In idle whispers.

Entertainment

Like an inconvenient memory

Signaling dire warnings

As questionable information

Presents itself in lace.

Daydreaming watchers

Wondering within access

On the possible implications

Of life on Mars

Or anywhere.

Complexity breeds

As simplifying destroys.

Any and all answers

Wither on

Or grow away.

To Never Be Preyed Upon

To never be preyed upon

I learned

Either hunt or be hunted.

Be the breaker or the broken.

Swallow your sentimentallity

Or suffer.

Locked away in vaults

Of cold cruel steel,

Behind bitter dispassionate bars

Biting empathetic hands

I live

Looking out

At everything that’s kept away.

To never be preyed upon

Is to sever all your heartstrings

As each one tugs your veins,

Pushing them away

Before they draw you out,

Exposed, vulnerable,

Easy prey.

And every broken heartstring bleeds

In the buried vaults unseen,

Untouched by any hand

The writhing wounded psyche

I identify as me.

To never be preyed upon

Is to never be free,

Looking out to see pleasures

I wish I could’ve been

Open and tender

In such a way as to be

The delicate flower

I’ve sheltered to keep

From being preyed upon.

I weep

Behind locked steel doors

Ashamed of myself,

Afraid for myself,

In solitudes keeping

Too weak to be anything but

Never preyed upon.

 

 

 

Familiar Folks

Familiar bonds deep engrained

Exclusively expressed in obligatory superficiality,

As unspoken words of affection

Felt and understood in every awkward glance and gesture.

Lifetimes of re-enforced sentiment

Spent in care-free novelty and tumultuous tribulation.

Loyalty in our devoted blood

Rewarded only in our collective facile interaction.

 

Incapable as we are

To satiate our needs for attachment,

We gather nonetheless

To empower our familiar bonds.

Between our solemn personas

We’re tied to chains of intimacy,

Holding us together

As our identities are weighted down.

 

Persona and Identity

Persona vs Identity

Both more or less complex

Patterns, habits, and daydreams coalesce

Conscious acts and sub-conscious desires

 

Stare into the abyss

Reflections of war-like aggression

Jealous and sick with obsession

A stubborn will and icy heart

 

In paradox afflux

A Soul sensitive to touch

Brittle, and broken too much

Weak and crippled with toxicity

 

Accordingly and as such,

Conflicting passions run amock

Madness in emotions stuck

Paralyzed by determined chance

 

In trance or thought

Passivity mingles with distress

Shameful needs be addressed

Compelling, or just dwelling

 

In purer moments

All complexities relax

Heart and mind re-interact

And passion kindles brightly

 

Failures fall away

Proclaiming my essence

Assured of my vital presence

I’m deliberate, I’m awake

 

Pieces all in place

To know and love what I’ve become

To realize and overcome

Re-associative embrace

 

Accepting my entirety

All my fragments in contradiction

In defiance of definition

Thriving as chaotic force

 

The Whole vs The One

Many millions may there be

Maybe none of them are me

Or maybe it doesn’t matter