Stick

The feelings want to sabotage; 

Nothing sticks, except for the synapses of these re-occurring emotions, like triggers, waiting to bust. 

Because nothing sticks. 

What comes first, love or the fuck? 

And while I know, nothing sticks, 

Not love, so certainly not THAT fuck..

And I am beaten and worn down from nothing sticking, and getting stuck 

Constantly. 

The fuck. Life, is a game, is a cunt, bitch, dick. 

Cuz nothing sticks, 

But I'm always getting stuck. 

The Dangling Vines

I leave my life dangling. 

She knows the dew drops of dawn, as morning tears and sweat. 

She is the devil that rides in cloaked flesh, and given the chance for redemption. 

We intertwine, dangling some more, as flowers become the blossom of our love on two branches. I make anew, where love was, 

As love will ever be, 

And as I will let it fly from me, and fly away, into another life once more. 

A Nail in the Coffin

That was not what he was...

But what life has been. 

The Think

No Dear, 

    I do not work linearly. 

My mind, she is a vast deep, dark whole. 

 Answers to no one, there are claws that screech as my abyss. 

Detrimental and wrapped in paper planes, and the light they fly on. 

  Dreams cost nothing..

And everything, 

All at the same point of time. Point in. Time. 

Perceptions are like masks, but the eyes, we will always see through. 

In a language we may not understand, I simply observe half the time, a mere child- 

     That is all I can do. 

      

Behind the Glass

It is a salivating, 

   worthless desire. 

 Behind glass, 

Chemistry walks away; shields. 

Eyes peak beneath shield's, 

Through character worn like mascaraded delight. 

I am the ball, and the chain, succumb, 

Like numb flesh, and scanty lures never worth the rendezvous.  

The shades will never matter more, than my hands as they peel away masks, 

Looking in

To their soul. 

It doesn't matter, I have learned, with scars from husbands and lovers who had tarred my flesh. 

Scars of death on Woman 

Time and time again, 

And the need to hide it in, 

For inherent, how man, we know, is our enemy. 

Marked by the womb, 

I peel away, the sensation of a world born to find bricks stacked out of houses of cards. 

Fixed, 

I dream into the soul agenda, 

Resting my head on a shoulder that will lean back. 

Love is fond in street lamps and nights, 

Where I have lost many a things upon these streets; 

All the most important to me. 

Man breathes in his notion, seemingly clueless to my existence sitting beside him atop the same flat. 

Against a wall we stare out. 

I know he doesn't see me, 

And I observe the fermenting silence. 

My love has always been one I know they do not understand. 

But for once I would like to be understood. 

Even if merely,

It is by my own self. 

I bind these bricks and put them a lay. 

In ritual, stating my truth. 

"I am from the material but not of it." 

No, I know, 

You can't 

Keep up, 

On the other side of the glass- 

Soul so cold to mine.

On the other side of the glass; 

World looking in. 

Looking out. 

The Fairy

Some moments, I think, 

"I could live this life, I really could...if just still allotted the time!". 

That is, 

Sometimes. 

Any direction turned amounts to just that much more, one could learn; 

I see this now, differently than I ever did. 

It is the age, of the Internet. 

It is the age of technology. 

It is the age of information. 

As well, it is the age of Propaganda, disinformation, and waged war. 

Not in my Country, but in the victims of..

decent lives are left decimated to rubble, and relocation. 

I understand things differently than once I did. I had indeed woken up to the dream and the propaganda sold to me, on the screens my whole life. 

All the things vile

All the things, 

We seek out without knowing. 

It is in love, 

It is in feigning ignorance. 

It is in choosing to turn an unblind eye, 

Or choosing to participate in what we have all become desensitized to. 

I know my world well, and yet lifetimes I have spent these years, 

To still miss the fathoming of man. 

And my "fellow" man, at that. 

The nature eludes me, 

And I am still observing each, with the trace memory notions that "none of them can be trusted". 

Isn't it true? 

Still though, 

There are those moment; SOME

Moments, 

Where I would give to see the coming, 

To be the coming, to live beyond it, into "Paradise". 

I know I am the coming. 

But I also know that this life, and all its notions, are not up to me. 

I watch, observe, and record keep. 

I involve myself time and again. 

Unable to feign ignorance

To this land 

And their ways. 

Nameless

Drifting, under the surface of rings, 

The hand Slips, I reel under, 

Closing my eyes and holding my breath, 

And feeling my body light, and my ears pressure. 

I forgive like another breathe taken. 

Underwater. 

Gulp. 

Done. 

The things that mattered changed; they seem to always, 

And unpredictably so, 

Though somehow I believe the gut still knows in occassions, 

As we ignore reasons to listen. 

Love, 

Does not matter so, 

When in it only a shallow word, no meaning, but a billboard of lies and convenience. 

Still though, 

It is all that matters, 

When whatever the fuck it is, 

Is true. 

You will know when. At least some of the time. 

I forgive him, 

Like eating up something already died. 

I don't expect much anymore. 

I don't expect anything. And would rather box it up. Put it away. 

And really, 

Just let it drown. 

My love for him, 

Needs to remain nameless...

Because he is. 

As so, were we. 

War, Man, and Me

(Dear Man,)

  In me, is a hovering of blossoming insights, though some of them, poisonous and leaking. 

In my mind, it makes more sense in whirling notions, though words slow so, only to make sense of but a mere percent of it. 

I wish to write it down on paper, and organize it as simple tasks; outlines, drafts, for podcasts and informative video posts. Just as quickly as it had come, it was lost, and flashes of only more empathic weight; back again in the flesh to wait, for inspiration to brush, 

And brush over me, as it waxes and wanes.  

My heart has grown sad all in the same day it knew moments on air, of profound peace. I think perhaps it's just the processing in me. 

So much comes into my consciousness like reconciliations and ideas vast. Like memories, and visions, and impressions, ever passing- An Antenea; the aerial kind. 

I will pick up where I resume, ever still in an ever changing middle...draft. 

Like the draft in veils. 

I feel the death and haunt in my bones and chest, like breathing in a sinister age.

It is an age I was born into. An age now, I know all too well. 

Around me, things are burning. I'm talking with my spiritual eyes too. We are sucking up and eating complacent empty luxury for the cost of lives, and freedom bought, and brothers murdered at our Money-hand. I have been trapped here since I got here. I knew it too. But not everybody else did. It really is like "waking up out of the matrix"; and some people are just born to sniff out it's falsehood like a mere mirage. 

I am an eager girl, and yet more stifled by  "the everyday normal" than my peers seem to be, or at least than they are willing to admit. Not to say, I almost have never seen a time where someone won't admit to it; being stifled by what today's 2015 "Norm" is, around the world. 

Sometimes, at the end of the day, the only thing I know how to do...is go back to the drawing board; start again, carrying over what one wishes to, from the previous operations, to the next. 

I have since I can remember, done this many a time, and each time, gaining insight, yet still paying the cost of my decisions. There is indeed a "karma" on our decisions; not a "Judging" superstitious energy,  just a consequential, inevitable, energy reaction. As I pass "through the gates" of my choices, and my choices anew, I learn just a little bit more about a world I thought I knew. 

It is true, I believe, that greater intelligence may very well be, a gateway into insanity, especially in the world we have all been born into. Today, we have to assimilate more information than ever, just to keep up with everyday tasks, real news, hidden agendas, cititzen duties of knowledge, being "well educated", running our own business', and the etc. There is so much information and energy input and output to assimilate daily, without the proper knowledge context to sustain peace, health and solutions in a rapidly expanding information-war era. 

I have married the insanity that is genius in today's modern world.  As I write my inner most thoughts to address before a judging audience, and as I confess of the depths I have plunged into... I would like to think that I am but ONE person, writing on behalf of the many who feel outcasted and misunderstood, for caring, or even just being different. You see, in today's modern society, Psycopathy and complacency are being bred and programmed into our everyday culture. Fear mongering, mainstream media, Hollywood industry, television and video programs, are teaching us more and more to identify and glamorize the "bad guy"; the sociopath, the Psycopath, the "vampires", and to make them the "hero's" of our Hollywood narratives. 

So empathy, concern, patriotic citizenry, and "Big Brother Watch" are practices purposely kept repressed until to play on empathy is the goal of the establishment, as in the case with the SANDY HOOK shootings and the UCC Oregon shooting just this month.  What was the first thing out of secondary witness testimonies? Leading statements on needs for gun control out of what sounded like stammering rehearsed crisis actors. Notice the first three letters of the word control: CON. But our government would never stage a hoax, drill or false flag, right?! Yeah...

It is a darker morning, on the third day I take to finish this. The light is in and out behind white clouds, turning something grey all around, for any given many moments at a time. I hear crickets out' my window, and the water of my mother showering. Cars pass on the street now and again, and I am tempered here, with Genki beside me. 

Work is soon. 

And these thoughts, they are mine- 

  They will not go away, nor would I want them to. 

I can tell, in myself, as I stir a little bit more today...where the angst is in my body, my gut. I let everything sit, and rest, as I have for many, many days now. 

  I have become a different person. 

The archetype in me lives; she is many many shifts and faces...some of them more depressing and dark than others. 

Nonetheless, what I have become is an evolution that can never go back; a version of myself, almost a doppelgänger.  

  I search now daily, as perhaps I always did, out' my eyes and through a lens that views a world completely separate from me.  There is life all around me every where I go. There is also static, and invading frequencies.  I look out, as I always have, assimilating ever still with just as much unknown to me, than ever before.  In a world where you are supposed to grow up, I have easily become only more lost, enveloping myself so, to the empathic weight of what is sad and atrocious around me. 

And that which has also been done to me. 

  As for what I have done to others, I make my peace everyday. As so, do I make my peace with what is happening in the world. Perhaps even, this will be my greatest feat as man. Perhaps still, who's to say? I have lived such a life, I can't begin to imagine which feat I could hang my name most upon. Was it my Love? 

My perseverance? 

The feat of staying alive. Around. To still attempt to live?

Perhaps in my motherhood to a small animal, or in his training of me? 

Or in being the friend to some that I know they needed? 

And while I would like to say that none of that matters...I don't believe that it is so. I believe in fact, it all matters. Very deeply. Most impactfully, it matters. Like "the butterfly effect" rippling AS history, and as the conscious decisions and actions we have made and become throughout our lives. It matters very much, for it must; it is man's evolution. His Story. His purpose. Without this, would we then have lived in vain? Without our comprehension of it all? 

I have looked out, and analyzed my whole life. I can not say, that I like what it has made me. But maybe I do. What is destainable is the weight it has put in my bones, and the ache in my chest from running a maze in an illusion with sleeping people all around like zombies, to the stench of death and burn.  Unlike them, I process the death of the living. I feel the tarred flesh. I die, without dying, only to do it again, as my brethren around me suffer, to no avail. As so do I.  As so I have. And as so, it does continue.  The slight change in me now-a-days, is the warrior within that burns like a Protective Lioness to her cubs. 

The cause is my cub. The people. My loved ones. And our liberty from tyranny and murder. Without her, I might have nothing. Because everything else just hurts. But it is in her, within me, that forges the fire of anger to win victories after all. It is a Loving, angry, and wrathful fire, but one that burns with a heart for justice. 

If perhaps I have changed, it is that I have become more willing to lay down my life for the cause. What more, could one ask for of a life of torture anyhow? 

Torcher is screaming out in pain your whole life, and nobody running to you, and no end in sight. Torcher is remaining invisible while feeling everything imaginable. Torcher is not being loved, or loved "right".  

So what more could I ask of this life, but to give cause to that which matters most? And "the light" can not win until the "darkness" is exposed and understood for everything it does and creates in this world; for as long as it is here, I die, I find. It takes me, in bits. 

I am indeed, unraveling. But at least I am grasping at the world as I go, and screaming out my last messages, until perhaps they catch. No...my work is not done just yet. And I have fled from this, and begged God to release me...but...it is not so, and it is not time. 

So my life has become a surrendering. A grasping. A waiting. 

Anything good within me left, I do not trust to remain. But, like an elder to a girl, I grasp my own hand, and guide us on a hike to find water. 

In this case...the water is the hope that remains. For life. For new life. For love. And for Peace.  

I can not save the world. 

I do not know if it is worth it to die trying, or if it must be so. 

Peace would be my dream. Something I have almost never known, not really. It is a dream. But it would be my dream. 

And if the world can not have it before I go, I wonder, if I could just a bit. You see...my life has been the sacrifice; The whole of it. So when I ask, "can't a girl be done?", it comes out of thinking "I must have served my time"! "When does it end?" 

And it hasn't. 

So I surrender. Wake up each day. And wait. And do. Lost, or Alive. 

Hand in hand, with fate...waiting. Waiting. 

And nowadays, pretty blind. I believe we as man have reached the stage I was born to see my whole life. Now that I am here, I am lost. And found. Ready, and not. The step outta' bed and the breath in my thinking are contracts with God, that I am here to remain in purpose, even if I do not understand what it is exactly. 

Whatever it is, it drives me, in compulsions, in endless analysis..and in the insanity it takes for discovery. 

I may be a lost cause. But choosing hope and magic and miracles are the only way I can prove that to be a false notion. I have no reason to believe that I can be anything more than I am...except of course that hope could be the only way through. 

Writer. Idealist. Lover. 

Artist. Healer. Thing. 

Lost. Caged. Pain as insanity. Genius as difference. Cop-out excusing away anything greater. 

Greater action left by our own illnesses within, and at home. I am man, trying, and merely losing hope. Documenting the journey. Looking for peace. For a miracle. For a way. 

It is a long evolution and yet none at all from the girl I was as a child. We are the same warrior. The same archetype. The same disdain, love, and melancholy. She is a spark. 

And somewhere still...so am I. 

Knowing this, is different still..than making the way; than walking the path. It becomes many things between then and now; things we'd never heard of, and couldn't have imagined. And you get lost, you do. You can. 

Now that I have traveled the lands and back, darkness sits in my soul from what I have seen. The inner landscapes were the worst Hell to dislodge anything good left to keep from the madness. 

So the madness overtakes you. 

And gives you new eyes. The "Eyes of Death"; a blessing... And a curse..if you are anything like me. 

Reborn. 

Again. 

Always. 

Still. 

Again. 

What remains and comes again, is this Warrior. She is almost, Not me. 

I...

Am some other love, some long-haired version of peace. Ready to pass. But we are bound. And so I stay. And so I fight. 

Destiny bound to this other form, as me. 

She is ravenous. And Done. With all states of things. Destructive...but purposeful. My light bound her. 

Just the same, 

She binds me. 

Regurgitate

I am trying to spit out your memory. 

To regurgitate the thoughts on repeat 

That seem to revolve in my gut. 

To forgive and forget, through the lost notion of being disregarded like flesh and sex, 

When it was love and honor that brought me to you. 

 

I 

Am trying to throw you out, for you have already gone, but like a music box, 

We play over and over in my head. 

 

You lied. 

And pretended to be clear in conscious. 

And took...

While never feeling the same. 

No explain argon, but a coward's. 

No sanctity, replaced by what's stolen. 

Precious memories, like cakes and circuses; never genuine; 

How do I swallow that? 

When I swallowed you? 

The Seed, the Mirror, the Man

The words, they will mean nothing

As I box away our memory, 

You and I. 

Like sand leaking an hour glass, our hour has past, as like your words, 

We can never get back. 

Like a bubble popped, 

Dreams quickly become blighted realities. 

I was real to the possibility 

Of waking up; 

And allowing you to shake me, up. 

It was no more real, than I imagine cheap words would render; 

Things said without half the integrity they deserve, 

And other things almost blatantly taken...

Had I not been so willing to give them up. 

I pulled your hair, 

Like it was me, gasping for the breath our touch would take from one another. 

I let you pass. 

Because you said you might, and so what more have I, but to bow-  

A loving respect as I suck up the blow. 

Tears blocked. Locked up. 

Too, I allow you to pass once more. 

It is a loss I can take. Calculated. And still lost nonetheless. Rather today than tomorrow. 

And there will always be, 

Your slight memory. 

As much as I'd love to bury it or set it aflame, 

It is a seed now, I journey from. 

A goodbye. 

A knowing, that I must walk away. 

And so I shall. As so shall she. 

Angry Johnny

Dear Johnny...

  The wine, she invites me, as I sip, just sip, and think of the picture I saw today; Kyra's face was a sweet memory to the one, I had long forgotten.  Abuse changes so much, including the way we remember things. 

Nothing could take the love out of her face though.  Time came back. It breathed to me once more; told me

I was worth loving- showed me

I was worth loving. 

The tragedy, is not just that...but what followed. I died in ways she'd of hated in me.  Gave myself over to those who'd only see garments for flesh, and hearts for prized tales to be sold amongst circles of friends. 

I became barren after Kyra's love; perhaps broken by it...
and then squandered to wonder, like a lost soul, destitute and increasingly frail. 

My white knight never came.  Instead, life kept building up, and pressures caved...
But no...
my light never came, but in pieces;
pieces.

I am the saddest chords playing, and the sweetest of slow crying violins painting me as midnight masses; wretched I cry all over the sky; weeping in silently heavy rains.

You are my God, Johnny. My goodbye, and my invisable, wrapped all in someone I can way my woes to.  Fabricated, I need you.  I need to tell even the face of my journal.

It all means nothing to me, as men gain momentum with my heart, and I remember why I never dated them at all.  I am already stripped, but here I remain cold. I can not love like this.
I can not love like this. 

And I am doing everything to see differently. But how un-good-enough even that is.

He did everything, said everything...to push me away. I stayed, and came to... and came to...
and came to.... until I realized how trivial I am to this man. How trivial I'd always been.
I can't do it again, weeping on knees.

Dear Johnny, oh Johnny...

Won't you take this pain from me.

A Wish Far From Fair

"A Wish Far From Fair"
                  by Ariel Dresser​

I melt. And I mean, drip all over; they're gonna kick me out.
I have wilted to a way-side disposition; stepped aside to watch all my happiness's quite simply, just disappear.
I breathe, sure...tucking away every tear that well up to greet me.
I smile, but really just stay silent in my mind...turning over memories and thoughts like I'm on a search I can't refuse; search for what?

What is a face that smears?
Or one blank?
What is a map of the stars, if merely it reveals that we are stranded?
What is the spirit of a broken horse?

Sure, I can gather up the lies the make-up creates,
but how can I cover or paint something that is losing form?

I am a heaping mass of dying beauty,
no longer, from the battle I have done.
All, to win nothing accept for decency.
And that is it.

But in the process, I have exposed myself,
in what are purely indecent inscriptions, for how many will look and think,

"she is broken"?...I know I do.

Like starring at myself in the mirror every morning,
my lie is that "I can make it okay".

It keeps me going, so I can smile, and release myself from the pain that wells, amongst strangers I must repress...most days, having completely lost the point of this all...

Because it is more days than not...
where i think, "it is just not worth the Hell"...

and it isn't.
So I subside. Die another day.
Paint another sad face...and pretend everything will be okay tomorrow.

Every upon a moon...
something even helps me escape this pain...

But it is not today.
And I am seeing what it's like to live with it;
and to let it melt me.

There is nothing I want to care about anymore;
A wish Far from Fair. 

The Wild Mane

The sugar elates 

As chocolate and nuts 

Sweet with cream, crema...

      Fathomabity eludes me 

As my senses engage 

And I tame, attempt, the wild and disgruntled horse, beneath my mane. 

I get wild, 

And let a calming hand tame me...

Gentle, soothing, 

I am quick to realize where I am...

Once I'm touched upon. 

Like memory sweet, I am in the grasses again, resting. 

They are green, and there is shade, 

And there is no place I'd rather be. 

But alas, 

It is only a memory, 

Til the hand of God 

Touches me. 

Gunhandling

The dark barks..incessantly, as a form
from as far away distance as the kitchen, to a backdrop of direct TV in the front bedroom
of the house I grew up in.

I dodge, the bullets, that would "wound' into me
as I pace my mind over the analysis
of the bullets instead.

Love
is the ficklest, scariest, most contradictory creature;
as magic as it is deadly,
I refrain
from gunhandling while imagining it in my hand, and how heavy the metal would feel; how the bullets and metal would look, how the paper target is perceived, how the shot, itself would go. What the purpose of it is?



I am analyzing bullets
with the mind of the Buddha.
- He is a simple man. a Wise one. Knowledge is mostly just a gut response with a life-full of thought around it.

I mean...
     I'm sort of in love with Life;

says this girl who battles suicidal thoughts upon days and days of chronic pain, and mere beg for release.

"sort of in love with life" might explain a lot of things-

things like the bi-polar love and hate of just what it is, love
     is and brings,
what
     it is and brings.

I am afraid, because my heart already set sail....and I am simply trying to manage a ship I'd known I'd surrendered control over.

I fear, the worst;
A voyage doomed.

I love him...
like seeing the Sunrise of the Hawaiian shores; an ocean's view, looking back as perception towards foaming sands, and twilight hues.
I love him like Heaven's singing the song of my life...
and him walking in tune; Silence is brilliantly melodic
and when I met you, we shy-ed to the cue; a melody like sweep,
I was afraid to believe
That you might so seemingly, be hearing it too.

I dodge wounds like bullets, and bullets like wounds.
It attacks me, I try to see it.
love it.
Leave it.

It challenges me, and I sniff.
I pace, tail out, cat indeed.
I learn very quickly,
but am forced to heed;

but I always knew I loved you.
And I was afraid to admit what I knew would be true;
I have a knack for these things.

I saw it coming, and gave up long ago.
as tempted as I am again now.

still...
maybe simply I can not.
Afraid to lose,
and then afraid to lose...

I calculate around how
I'm afraid to lose...

but step out now.

I step out,
like a quick slow motion on a busy highway;
step out and watch them drive by, the bullets and analysis, like
wounds and trains.

"Fuck" is the word of the day,
she says shaking her head, to herself, the smile of curiosity already sealing a deed.

I am the bullet train,
and the train is me.
Slight, slight it to will,
but I do not will to Love him...
simply, fuck, that I do.
simply,
I do.

Gunhandling.

Moon & Shadow

  I pull up. Breast bare to the open air; 

Ropes squeezing, as my breath portrays in frosted air..

It is as though, the light, a midnight electric hue, is my soul essense rising from me. 

 

Breathe, excretes from me, like smoke signals into a night, starry, 

Eyes tied. All senses baring, the brunt, 

Of my Dominant's Side. 

Cold, baring, shivering, 

Excited, until maps grow outdated. 

I have been one thing, wild in air 

and adjacent minors keys, and off notes. 

Wailing, ties me, to bondage, 

And shadow lights, 

Of being completely a slave, 

For freedom, 

In the dark of night. 

I know the things these creatures bare, and watch them look in...

Undressing me, 

As we see things we never imagined in others. 

Bring out my god, and I will bring out your sadist; heaven is merely the gate between. 

Take me hand and tie, me. 

It is the only time you will see me, 

Give up my sovereignty; to be fully in Your trust. 

In our lust. A shade. Between you, and I, creature baring. 

Hide. And I will go on living my life...

Wrath In fingertips like rains, 

And soul fire shaking mantles. Earth's crust breaks my body open, 

but inside You will find core light;

The place you may render in me more deeply.... 

Navigating this lost forsaken world, I do not believe all shadow is a sin. Won't you dance with me there, showing you things in me, you might never imagine. 

Holding up a mirror, 

To everything you've never surrendered to so that you, 

May surrender it all to me. 

Lost, is sometimes the more longed for sight, but I'd rather you maintain a light, 

While we walk down this darkened off-road. 

Tide's Coercion

But I fell. 

That is...

By the time I got around to feeling strong enough to save the world...

Strong enough. Wise. Ready... 

I fell. 

The days would leave me exhausted, without reprise. I would find energy, but only in spurts and breaths. 

I had by that time, 

Grown tired...

A little too deeply. 

So it was, that by the time, 

I could finally stand on my own two feet...

I found I couldn't stand anymore at all. 

It was a fall. 

An invisible one. 

As bed became my enemy, 

And friend once more, 

As I would once again learn; 

That all my existence ever is 

And has been; 

A mere surrendering, 

Ever changing, 

Ever forming 

Tide. 

Hail Storm Halo

I was glad when you showed your colors; 

Needing an excuse was all.

It was always in my nature to love you...but it's true I have grown an armour I couldn't even have before; 

The restaurant industry would do that! 

Loving people like you, in consciousness...

Would do that! 

They succeeded magnanimously! 

I see now, what a fool I had been. 

Your brother treating me better in 3 meager days what I had given you years for. 

He never called though...

Even for a great date, I wouldn't expect him to. 

I didn't mean to. 

But you were so mean. 

And I guess, I decided...

So could I be. 

Besides...

You straight up said you don't want me. 

So...

I let you not have me, and shared myself instead. 

Mostly because I loved you, with Haunt. 

In insane love only, did my actions make sense. 

It is one or two years later..

And him with me- 

Not about you. 

But I thought about you, didn't i? 

Reflection. 

And words like sociopath, counteract drunken I Love you's and "never returned". 

Your birthday passed. 

And although I am glad we are not together, I know our Kharma burns. 

You treat me like I'm trash, 

So I let myself be trash to you, 

While I adorn myself in Goddess amulets, and allow the distant worship of far away men. 

In reality, 

I leave you all behind and focus anew. 

Love, 

Is love, 

And there are certain things it wouldn't do...

So u forgive you...

But I will not forget how you have met me. Without asking why I looked like I was dying, while I was going on, 

Living for you. 

But I am glad I see your smokey tongues, and gel, like tar, as words that stick without thought. I deserve to be loved, the way I love. And while I was willing to be consumed by you...I have laid her down- the teenage lost soul, that would sell any part of herself for a little need. 

Love is scarce. I accept that! 

Knowing, it is on me, to create. Spread. And find. 

She had been a crazy hail storm, and I'm just trying to aquaint myself better this time! 

The Brick Road

The Life I had set out to lead; 

Instead she had led me. 

Meanings I'd chosen to place words to, now only know words as their meanings.

I loved a great many times, 

But it was man I loved, 

Intertwined with his divinity;

And divinity cracks. 

And we are pools, and puddles, but rarely solid rock. 

I...

Take a step back. 

I...

Thought I knew what it was to love, 

Until I allowed so much to be stripped of me. My social niceties slipped away like robes. My Baren womb, I'd cover up, wilting to the dreams our generations were fed. 

Children are starving, 

And I would be feeling our hunger pains in the plains of my back, 

And the vallys of my gut...

Corporations eat our disease as the money that pays for their breakfast. 

I had been told, 

My whole life...

How much I mattered. 

And how much I didn't. 

Which do you think I was inclined to believe? How long have both beliefs been battlting over sovereignty in me? 

When I pulled back a mirror today, 

I saw myself in your place. 

I had believed you...could...maybe...be...

The...

But...

Then the fear pulled curtains back, or placed them cleverly, 

And I can not tell, 

If merely, 

It could be as easy, 

As letting you from me. 

Who is he? Your friend you love? 

And who are we? 

My shrinking stature, 

Has drunken, Alice's juice, 

And you, 

And you, 

May as well be the Walrus to my Oyster. 

It is only belief that would suggest you will not hurt me. 

Turn me. 

Eat me. 

And swallow whole, with shallow regard. 

He did that to me; God...through the arms of men, 

And women, 

Like Hells reaching claws. 

What will you need and how long will you make me bend? What will you NOT give in return, 

As I attempt to Love myself, so much, it means letting no man love me? 

Even if...

The magic spells, like serendipity...

Life has taught me a great many things...

Most of them requiring so much time to gather the words that will only contradict themselves, as they sing harmonies of truth singularities, 

Making up stacked points, 

Like dimensions.

And time. 

And this moment now. 

And everything that wiw think was lost, how it can never be. 

I am used to loving. 

Letting in to love me...

Is where I hide my face so tears freefall the quickest to dry. 

I can love you vastly...

But it is not out of greed. 

Otherwise I wouldn't be so lonely, 

Loving, 

On a one-sided street. 

The Shakes

When she gets a day off, she doesn't know what to do with it; angst com-Pounding 

In her gut...

And erupt, 

Until all Melts down- 

Cools again. 

Once the ego subsides, 

She notices her hands shaking, assuming it's from the 

Coffee and excedrin, 

Coffee and excedrin, 

Coffee and excedrin, 

That riddles her heart and mind. 

Headaches undo her, 

As if she has always been broken, 

Though we know I am not. 

Or I am. 

Or I am not...

But, when, if, and...

Life goes on, days go on...

And we find strength in each other 

If we can focus more on just that. 

I am not broken, 

Though I have been broken, 

Over, and over, 

As if to disassemble me, only to find the one, that lay underneath, 

A now rumbled location. 

Clearing, 

Clearing, 

Debris, with breeze, and motion, 

And life, and dance, 

And love, 

And 

  Letting go. 

Of everything we've thought to have known. 

My hands tremble and I watch them. 

Life has shown me a path, and I have taken it, 

Heeding now..

Whatever it is, that path should be. 

Fear. Love. 

Balance, like conservatism, like health. 

Martyrdom...rested some days. 

Somedays, the very vein of all I do become, and sometimes, 

Love takes over me. 

This is life. 

We sacrifice. 

And Hell, is this our Hell? We we ever be able to tell, 

What doth indeed, lie beyond; Propoganda-less. 

What of God? 

As simply, I look now at Billboards as if they are implanted programs. 

I stop. 

I see. 

The headaches come. 

I rest. 

Repeat. 

I adjust. 

And create defeat through love. 

Balance. 

Peace. 

Harmony. 

And not forgetting to take any of it too seriously...

Because already, 

There will be too many days, 

That simply, I will. 

Life's Breath

Night turns, 

In one moment, 

As looks confess everything, 

And I just wish I was home, 

Being loved. 

Instead, 

I watch my surroundings; living...

And watching the living, sinning; is that not, I swear, what we do best? 

I have vowed, never to love 

As a mess again, 

Yet is it not the way I love? 

And do I simply calm all calamity in me revolved around, 

To understand Love, 

At it's secret distance? 

Because respect and love seem to go the most hand in hand, so I wait, patient now. 

Or so trying; aren't we all? 

I find my self at a 3am Dine-in. 

Escaping what I walk away from, and revelations constantly. 

I am afraid of loving someone 

Who will only be so into me. 

Who will lie. 

Who will abuse. 

Or neglect and remain distant. 

And any, and all, 

Of the above. 

You see...She...made me wait. Charmed me into hypnosis, a snake. 

Beautiful. Alluring. Alarming. Quick. 

And then there was Atom. Who lied, defacing good man's stride to what I felt I could trust at the time.

And Mr. Texas. Only sweet enough to "get this" but never called...

...no he refused to call...after months, of us playing, his game. 

You think I need another name? Another "pretend me" all the way, 'til I have nothing left in me anymore?

I do not want to love you, 

Simply because I do, 

Whoever it is, that you actually are. 

Who ever it is, 

That you actually are. 

You see, loving you, 

Will only cause in me, anguish and wait. 

Like it always has. 

I have waited for you since the day we met, 

And since them given up. 

You do not need me, when I will most certainly need you. 

You will need your space, when I will need to be understood. 

Held. 

Loved. 

Yet you being here, 

Primes me for disaster. 

I can not imagine that you will ever love me, the way that I could love you...

Yet still, I can not be apart of a world 

That holds no jewels...

Or can I...

Just to feel loved? 

I would die, only to be deceived. 

And that is why you intrege me. 

To the depths of perpetuating any securities I previously had...

and straight to the beliefs that you would never love, 

A creature like me.

See...

Creatures like me, burn and ache...

But always on our own.

Because it is not in many any a man, to battle with us, 

What we take on. 

Sure, you wear that armour, but your vulnerabilities deep- a place I'd like to be, but would you love me there? 

Could you? 

Silly thing. 

Silly thing . 

Silly thing...

The Unsaid Writ

When you opened the door

I had been telling myself I wasn't ready

I had waited a long

And waded

Assuming the worst

And living the worst

In all the time, before and after

That we would meet. 

You have been, a face in my air, 

A rhythm in my beat...

And while yes, I have many, 

There was never a time, 

I didn't breathe you. 

You. 

And only you. 

Far away, 

As the piano bends and sways, 

I listen and find floating revelations 

In the transcendence- 

No longer what was...

I await to walk through, 

And declare....

That my wretchedness, simply melts away, 

Into the twilligjt evening, and the dancing stars...

And the far away things, 

That have always been ours...

If we but just see, 

And let THAT BE. 

In cinder, 

I cry, dis-shoveled, shaken, 

Trying to quickly shrug off 

The imbalances that had already taken. 

We breathe. Beat. Hand to chest, your bare there, and I let you see me. Afraid and all. Streaming. 

Afraid and all. Dancing. Keys. 

And ready....

For when you say no, to flee. 

Pretending I am not broken. 

But the beauty always entices me...

Right on back, to enrichment, 

Like a fairy beholden some cosmic magic, 

I am a moth to the light. Curious. Reborn once more. 

    Still human. 

And that is where the pain will always remain and pull me away. 

Still human, alas. 

A blessing and Majesty 

With Travesty inevitably built in. 

It has been the thing we run from of generations, 

And it has also been the porcelain layer of our ages, 

In women's hearts and faces...

In man's emotions and nuances...

To love thee. 

...to love 

       Thee. 

And never to put, that part of our face down. To deny thee. To deny me. 

Would Mean to put my love for you down. 

And while I don't want to love so much, 

I do, 

Too much. 

That is my lot. 

And you had caught my eye, so very long ago. First time, and all. 

And again. 

And again. 

And yet...

Again....

Howls of the Forest

I long to begin to scream out,
at the epidamy and beyond of my lung capacity..
at the breaking points
being hit
too many times
and again.

I can't tell if I am in a becoming
or dying,
or a "find yourself all over again,

as my wings tremble,
and I make like I am alive..

because I am.

As the world actualizes around me,
and this little gutter rat grows up, watching the world change...

after a while, realizing it didnt change, so much asit was always a trap...
and education...
just the illusion of something.

I will tell you what is tangible though...
Hopes.
And dreams.

They are tangible because you can feel them INSIDE YOU,
underneathe
just beneathe,
the surface of everything

you will ever do.

As I approach my brigde...
I observe a worn and tattered persevearing limp.
I still have my eyes, legs, hands and feet-

They have not killed
me yet.

The hope of something big...like comfort..
or safety...
and love...

They die often, but always transmute back into itself.
When I collapse...

I collapse into Love...
Into everything it has taken for me to get here...

At this marker on my journey..
Where no way, is yet shown,
and yet still,
I have been summoned to wait.

Screaming would free, like tribal howls,
the damage I have stumbled upon...
across the earth..

and within the universe that is me.

I am pieces of who I used to be, when I was strong.
Remnants lost so many generations ago.
My knees are weakening, and chest breaking....heaves, from the screaming of my soul

to just "please let me go; please!!
let me go!"

I am a prisoner.
Unlovable in my own detainment...
As i tiptoe through bacteria and simply shade out the existane of the Demons.

Did you know,
I...

Love..

But I can't see his face.

and it scares me, as much as falling in love,
the beaten path,
of a beaten woman...
and an ignorant bunch around to the sacrifice she always bore to example by leadership;

we were always a gluttonous race; 

 a gluttonous race... 

And maybe I'm too Gluttonous for your perfection. Or maybe, that is simply what's fake. 

What is not fake, is the bruises. Or lack of calls. Or crying. Or the lying, that you had nothing to do with...

And neither do I want you to. 

But the world is twisted and I have never been a girl unburned. 

You will burn me to be selfish, because that is what I have been taught men do. 

And I will continue to die a slow death, 

As I have been taught too. 

And together, I may never know your love, but instead a distant memory. 

And I will be strong. 

Because I have to. 

On the Mountain

I am not perfect

Ever between worlds. 

I have washed my hands in the many black sins, liquids that eat and tear down our minds. 

I am scared and coping inexhaustibly 

As words sink in; 

I'm running from a gas already caught me. 

Delicate and frayed, is there any way I can be loved without indeed martyring myself? My ears ring. 

My heart gets wet and tears leak, dot .. 

  Drip. 

Inexaustably weak, 

I must stand on my own two feet, compounded chest caving, and that girl rising the best she can, has been taught, 

She will never be loved, the way she had deserved; 

And so, as youth dies with me, in me, as me, my bloodied death, a body 

As my inner child weeps, for a last time on her knees. 

This child does not know the mommy to whom she dies against, for they are incarnate souls...

And they didn't have a chance to fully re-connect. 

Her mother will always be more brilliant in her 5 year old eyes, 

Than the teenager in her, ever knew she'd be. 

I stand now. 

At the Rubicon. 

In me, is indeed the deathly hollow, of such the fate, that is before us now; 

So and so much, 

Is at Hand. 

I would fall in love, and watch the world topple if I knew it would bring me peace. 

The same I would fight til I die, if it meant peace for another. 

The notion of Sacrifice is a Long-Human wound; it is both, still prevalent, and one of many archetypical seasons of the tarot, which reflect the many passages of life, and "initiation" cycles. 

I tremble. Nerves a little rigid. Can't escape fast enough from the crumbling away of society, 

As I keep watch, 

And wait to ring the bell. 

Home-stress' Shaking Joints

She couldn't have meant much; you never called. 

The men in our generation, too busy falling, 

To help a tired young woman up. 

Who am I, 

But nothing? 

a festering silence, 

Unheard. 

Ears perched, 

Heart hurt. 

Eyes, around. 

My dirty hands, continue hauling. 

My worn out chest; 

I am tired of showing you my mess. 

Tired of attempting to love ever again. 

So intrinsically sad, from the years already spent. 

From the lies and the hands, and please, by all means, 

Use me, but don't love me, 

Said no woman ever. 

Save the world

No more than I can save the wretched oozing pieces of me left, 

That even should they remain lovable, who then could qualify, I ask myself that...

Unable to comprehend, already forfeited...secretly hoping...

The next game, 

Will yield. 

Yield. 

Yield. 

Fawn of Innocence

Please, Dear Child..

Find me a heavenly ground! 

My spirit is forsaken, with the stricken of what is to come, while I alone, am merely, 

The Watchman. 

There are many of my kind. 

I hide, 

In your delight so; 

The reminder of the sweet things I may have today, and tomorrow, 

But likely there will be a time, those things will come to pass. 

Maybe even, I may live long enough, to see their return. 

I stay hidden, 

In the fine essence of the meadows, 

Where my soul will always know life once more. 

Around the Nazi Camps arise, 

But I will forever sing the songs of my people, in my heart, as I go on. 

We wash. 

And wash over...

And I come to somehow once more. 

I am lying on the floor 

Unstricken with blows. 

There is sanity, 

And safety, 

In you here, Dear. 

In you here, Deer. 

The Far Away, Beat of Life

I stand, they peel. 

Peel away. 

My layers fall, and open- ignite. 

Music starts up as I feel a soft presence against my cheek; gentle lips, sweep. 

The stars rise up from the ground all around me, like firefly's... 

And all of the sudden, 

In goes: the dance is the universe around me. 

Music sweeps up....taking me in dreams to all that is awake within me. 

Day Lullabies. 

The universe is weeping and dancing 

All in one sweet, ever changing melody and drum beat. 

And sometimes, she comes to the calmest of calms; the kind right before the night sleeps only to awake to mountains ruptured like Dragons and bombs; 

One night 

Can change so much. 

Like Love and Psalms. 

Like death, and loss. 

Like the notion of a dream, or miraculous creativity. 

Steady though lay ever present, 

The music surround. 

As it dances the star's like fairys

As I fly afar, and stay. 

I am here.

Where they see me. 

But still miles and veils, 

So sound away. 

Slowly Losing Grip

When it might as well, 

Have not meant anything. 

I hear your voice, lulling me. 

You took me in, promising. 

Promising it would or wouldn't mean anything...

Refusing to tell me when...

When it would. 

When it wouldn't. 

Until I asked; until I stopped NOT wanting to know. 

You gave me chills, and now your memory, distant and cold. 

Lost out their in a wonderland. 

I feel you..

But I am not so sure you will ever feel me...

Quite like that. 

Miss you even- a good best friend...

Til I realized it might have meant nothing to you. 

I wouldn't know. 

And I couldn't. 

You never wanted to love me like that-

Won't. 

But you were a sweet growth..

A moment for me, 

Til I realized I was watering something that simply doesn't need that much. 

Over emphasized. 

Lost. 

You float in the cosmos...

And I kiss your hand slowly, 

And say goodbye. 

You may never know, 

What I had in my heart for you. 

And these tears hit my palms, 

I watch myself spill them for you- 

Barely glanced my way. 

Barely a person in my own right, 

Accept for a body in your night- 

My heart sinks. 

That, 

Was the one hard thing to accept. 

In all my giving, I'd started to see...

I was the only one. 

So I said a bittersweet goodbye, 

Before you came and swept me away, 

For one last sting. 

You will never know, all I saw in you. 

And I will never know, how you could have loved me...

Though I had longed to. 

Merely...

Merely, 

A ghost, now. 

We are only memories. 

And you choose

What you choose...

To hang to, 

Just as I do. 

I actually miss you. 

I always did, once I'd walk away; 

Once that would proceed not hearing from you. 

But life stings, as she always does, and I wipe away my tears, as I shove down the let-down 

From yet another "friend". 

"Heh", I roll my eyes to myself- "friend". 

That's a word, 

That I wished 

Had more meaning

In today's world. 

I loved you. 

It really hurt, 

You chose this. 

And now we choose this, 

Together. 

Never. 

Ever. 

You have become the night sky's; 

Never supposed to be mine. 

Teenager Again

Tuning out 

The voice of my mother, 

The face of ignorance placed in front of me, full lifetime's worth 

Of ignorance, 

I Begin to bob my head, 

Feeling the freedom 

That the smoke inhalation rests in me

As I breathe out, 

And listen beneath the headphones...

Her lips move. 

My head bobs, eyes observing the different silence; her silence..

Lips move. 

I move, 

Relaxing down 

To the chillax beat, 

Resting me; 

She stresses me

Illogical 

Illogical 

Fallacy 

I can not teach this one; 

I need a break- 

I'm learning I need a break. 

She doesn't stop talking, 

So I found my headphones. 

Doesn't stop antagonizing, 

So I found a miracle for getaway. 

A walk away. 

Can't stand her for too long. 

Something gone, and long gone. 

I suppose, reading this, could make it seem like I am the cold one. 

But it has been breathed into me, with her, 

Competitive aweful air, chasing me down in dreaming shadows forsaken.

My mother always had a way of taking without me quite being able to put words to it. I'd like to say She doesn't mean to; 

But sometimes, it's almost certain that she does. 

Like a child. 

I was wild. And free. 

And although she didn't mean to, 

I felt she's always sought to chain me. 

She doesn't mean to. 

But then I look around, 

At the sick state of affairs; 

The animals, 

The wretched plight of those tried to live in this house; 

We are enduring, 

But far from functional. 

I made it out. 

But it is sad what it is here. 

Not for her, but for us; them; 

Her kids- kitties- kittens. 

-the dogs. 

And me. 

Somehow I made it out alive...

Still somewhere in between though. 

I've got fight...

With many under treated blows. 

Cloud Change

My skin tingles. 

I let it take over, as the feeling arises

And the memories come from the unstill morning, and sun's rise..

And I wonder still, 

If you could ever love me...

The way you loved her? 

Could you even love me more? 

And will you, I wonder? 

The clouds move; they come and go; 

And change. 

And change some more...

It was somewhere here, 

Where I

Met you. 

It was somewhere here, where I found...

Found, I loved you. 

There was a shy gaze, 

A stare she'd glance through...

It was somewhere in all of this, that I watched you; held back...with calm. 

Calm. 

I know, Babe...

That the world we walk in...

Is one cruel. 

Maybe you don't need me. 

Maybe you do. 

I know, that how I must see myself, is 10x lesser than perhaps you do..

As I sway gently to watch my own tides, like fear, and love, excitement and the deepest doubt, thrust and rush, then find peaceful bends...

Peaceful bends...

And THAT...

Is where I, 

Still found you. 

I sway. 

I sway...

Believing you will fade and go away. 

I sway...

But I do not want you to leave. 

What you have impressed upon me, like my own gentle shadow- 

A mirror between our nights of telling and spilling forth, before we find silence, in pretzeling bodies. 

Today I missed you differently. 

I missed the man, 

I may very well be falling in love with. 

But I did not NEED you. 

And it made me hope, 

That you will not sway away...

Away...

From this changing in the clouds 

Between me and you...

You. 

Reluctant to declare my love for another, I hear my heart singing. Feel the wings I once had upon my feet, and I am light again- easy. 

And although I do not want you to leave me, it is not fear that binds my heart. 

I think what we have between our masses is art:

Our dialogue, their own burning candles into the night. 

Our shadows dancing, and our bodies giving... And our hearts receiving...

And it has been somewhere here, 

Between all of these clouds changing so, to our highrise...

Was it not there you met me also?

Was it not there you met me also..., 

When indeed...

I did call for you? 

 You.

You. 

And it is there.. 

Here, inside you...

Where I am simply..

Loving...

What you have allowed to spill over. 

And I sway...and watch the clouds change...

And it makes me uneasy...

But somehow you help me to feel 

That it's okay. 

And I like that about you; 

Like yesterday; 

Like never too far away...

As I wonder, 

And still sway, 

Watching these 

Clouds change. 

Two Lovers

Breathing in the backbeat, 

Of a beaten backbone, a drenched a rock that keeps me safe. 

The wind is harsh, 

And I feel blood in it, 

And I turn my head, eyes, and ears, 

But leave no more, 

And ever.

Ever leaving. 

I sweep my backbone, 

Over the land, in winding escapes, 

Of breeze over desert heat and carnivorous things, 

For even the Sun, ever, 

A great enemy, 

In lands so strategic. 

I bow down by nightfalls 

And moons 

Each night letting the death of the day sweep off me, 

Or whind down with me. 

Sometimes carrying it into many many more days. 

My ancestors breathe through my roots, 

Up and escaping, 

Vines flamboyant and draping, 

Reaching towards yet another dawn's day. 

I die, 

I arise, 

With her; glorious! 

The Moon, just two sides, 

Of the Sun's face. 

They are lover's 

Never, 

To meet. 

Tears for Atom, 1

It is as simple, my friends, 

As this: 

Life. 

Every moment's capacity up until this point; critical or not, 

Or and as always. 

It is as simple as this: 

I found my tears for Adam. 

And moments burst..

And change...

For moments, 

And moments 

As they pass. 

I found my tears for Atom; for man.

For Adam. 

And in them, resided quite overtly, 

The Love that there-in dwell, 

As my testimony to him. 

And his honor 

And mine, 

As our Karma- this "love body" 

Between this man 

And myself. 

But I cried it out. 

And crying for him, 

Made me figure some things out, 

Like love. 

And memory. 

And life, 

And overlook, 

And the question that I found as several: 

"Where was I, then?", remembering...

Exactly the things that boggled my mind, 

When this man, and I had met. 

I know where I was; I just don't know why. And now, I'm left wondering if indeed we both had overlooked and who's guilt renders more betrayals. 

Do we even deserve OUR LOVE? 

Have we wronged eachother? 

And yet, we both know, it is the only love deserved, the only way, 

Even if it is not our's 

To the other's 

To "see through". 

"So tender, Dear, 

But not here, 

And your heart indeed seems so true. 

But action always a telling language, 

A one, that usually unglues." 

Ever Since I Met You

It didn't make sense. 

When I "met" you; 

Interest and curiousity peaking

Through openness, and no great expectation, 

To laughter, compassion, 

Re-sponse...

To 

Understanding. 

I ruined it. 

She broke up with me, 

By breaking my heart, 

And I left her, we split...

And the thing that was left craving and vulnerably Hot and sad, 

Deeply cold, 

Wrecked, 

Was me! 

I fell on you. 

Changing things, 

In one night. 

That's all it took. 

I can't say that anything we had previous to that, 

Was anything of substance now knowing what I know of you; 

Still, it was a strange series of events. 

Strange indeed. 

Strange even until now. 

And to think ONLY YOU 

Would make so little, of everthything odd, 

I'd obsessed about since I "met you"

...since I "met you". 

So, yeah, it changed. 

It was fun and exciting at first. 

And all I remember from then, is how less and less we'd talk, you calling upon occassion...

And then you ruined it. 

The smell of hate, started to seath in the air, underneath your breath, 

And words. 

I guess maybe even, you became them a bit, those that I had loved previously; 

The women, who were good at throwing blades. 

I don't know what kept me, beyond some point. 

And I know that when "I left", it had become long overdue. 

And I know, that even though you told me some secrets, there were several more you wouldn't dare touch with me; 

And I know how much I've wanted you to. 

I know that even though I left, I'd thought about you, almost every day since. 

And I know that upon occasions, when I would open my door up to you, 

You would typically close it on my toes, 

In rants, and puffs, 

In lies 

And some sadistic form of pleasure 

Truly enjoying hurting me; 

Or hurting me back, I could never tell. 

Still, 

I have loved you. 

Faithfully and faithlessly, 

A caged bird, 

Open cage, 

But nowhere to fly. 

No; 

I can't say that it ever made much sense. 

I can say, years later, 

I think it was because 

I loved you. 

I loved you quickly. 

Saw your shady as quickly as I'd ruined our formalities; 

I didn't know the can of worms I was about to unleash. 

 

I simply did not know. 

And although you laughed, 

And I knew you would, 

I called it love, 

Because that it what I supposed it was; 

What it felt like, 

That odd sense of unknowing for so long, 

And yet longing, 

Pulling, 

Like nothing before. 

And then you ruined it. 

That's when you became good, 

With hurting. 

At hurting me. 

So I did what I was supposed to; 

Not what I wanted. 

Cuz all I wanted was to see you. 

Was to enjoy us. 

Was to stop time for us; even if just for moments. 

But you fought me, every step of the way.

And I can't make sense of what has become. 

Obsession, always a forefront with you.   

Always a back thought; 

And now, coming to realize the things you'd hidden; 

The things I'd failed to see. 

I ruined it. By loving you. 

And wanting to know you. 

You ruined it. 

By showing me, you didn't need, 

Anything I had to give; 

That in fact moreover...

YOU DIDN'T WANT it. 

I got the point, 

So I picked up, and turned around. 

And I've thought about you, 

Ever since. 

And ever since, 

I met you. 

Time Travelers Journal: 1 : Native American Planes

I go into the black void; 

Premonitions width, 

And an earthly walk, 

And indeed, for now, I walk alone, 

Though armies trail behind; 

I know this. 

I journey, 

Footsteps in mud, a lonely traveler, 

To find where the lands are plowed, and just what it is they have in store for us; 

Never, would I...

Could I, 

Have imagined this! 

 The Industrial Complex, like extra-terrestrial city technology. 

Would the tribe believe me? 

I stayed, to observe, torn, about going home, as I knew once I'd arrive back, the real problems would begin; 

My life would change...

And I had to tell them what I had seen. 

So I did. 

And life went on, 

And it was long, 

But I knew one day, they would come for our children's children's children. 

And they did..

With the same avarice as I'd seen in their cultures decades before! 

They came with a great fire, and a great vengeance, and no warm left in their heart, but from the fire pits of hell. 

They came. 

And to this day, we not only work for them, we submit to them. 

And they hide, their monstrous appearance,

 behind glamour and media-lore of twisted untruths. 

They smile, 

And all the while, 

We sit down to dinner, while our neighbors are hauled away.