Consequential

Flowing, soft curves
Illuminated skin
Soft touch
rough hands
Hard, harsh lips
brushing my neck
Arched back

Ravenous.

Deep breaths
Mind over matter
Eyes gaze
Penetrating stare
Analyzing my every move

I don’t care.

I want you to touch me
like you mean it.

Fighting Cliches

It’s dark in here.
I never knew the meaning on loneliness,
Until I opened my eyes.

These monsters and horrors
don’t come from dreams and nightmares.
Our mind can create a shallow imprisonment,
all on its own accord.
All we need to do is give it the tools necessary
for destruction.

Tear a person down enough times,
you’ll either get a scrapper,
or you’ll get a person who’s given up.

I certainly have never been known to give up.

I’m sorry, hunny, but I’m a fighter, not a lover
and this fight is carrying on far too long
for me to continue loving you.

The same old clichés,
are knocking at my door.
Sadly, they’re very much reality right now,
and I don’t know what else to say or do.

I just gotta dust myself off and move on.
Carry my heart in my hand
and hope another fight doesn’t come along too quickly,
or it will burst in my fist.

Brush Strokes

My mind aches with longing

A need to hold my breath,

while I think this through.

The only reason I didn’t do it,

Was because of you.

The only reason I stopped myself,

Was to save your situation.

I’ll always be a scapegoat.

I’ll always think about you before me,

Whichever you I’m talking about, you.

You.

I have no sense of self-preservation,

I’m a glutton for punishment,

I’m an escapist in love,

And attachment,

And bindings.

Stuck between not just two worlds, now,

but four.

Four different lives I could potentially lead,

four different paths to choose from,

at least the paths that I see laid out in front of me.

Surely there has to be a better way.

I’m thinking in too much of a linear fashion.

It’s time to open up the waters,

let them flow in and whisk me away with the tide

into the other realm.

Let that place decide where I go,

I will listen, and I will follow.

The ordinary is so plain and boring,

my world is a film of paintings.

Flowing, in and out, of existence and time.

Moving with color and feeling,

the brush strokes create each emotion,

each facial expression,

and each tiny sense of body language.

I want my painting to sing,

I want to soar atop a mountain that doesn’t really exist,

then fly down on the thermals that I paint as I go.

Where they lead, my brush will choose,

and I will never really know.

This mess I’ve gotten myself into

is too much for my linear mind to handle.

Please proceed to ask my painting,

my song, my poetry,

what it all exactly means,

and you might receive an answer at a later date.

At the present time,

I’m flying hard and fast,

to my mountain of solitude.

Self Stabbings

What have I done?
What monster have I created within myself?

I can't allow myself to be content.
I can't let myself live with this.
And just be.

It's always something.

I hate to be bored.

How can I make this stop?

This self-sabotage,

just to get out it?

My mind is moving too quickly,

for anyone to keep up.

No one can keep up.

At least no one here,

no one within my grasp.

I am alone.

I am nervous.

I am scared.

and I admitted it.

Sounding Song

Footfalls.

Breaking glass.

Ping.

Siren.

Breath.

Footfalls,

accelerated breathing,

feel the flow in my lungs.

The pumping of my heart,

my chest rising and falling,

my diaphragm filling and emptying.

My muscles screaming.

Sirens.

Pain is life.

To be is to suffer.

Living is to die,

as Life is to breathe,

and move,

and fight.

........

I don't want it.

Any of it.

I just want to live in peace.