One of those days...

Days like this, I have no clue what do with myself. I feel like crying, No real reason. I just wish I could. Seems as though crying would make it better. I just want to lay in bed...do nothing...be nothing...feel nothing.

Angelic_Tears

"If I gave to you, a scarlet rose, would you give me the garden?"

A response:

Angelic_Tears come splashing down,
Burrowing deep within the ground.
From which a scarlet rose has grown.
In a garden she calls her own.
Outside this garden demons race,
To steal the beauty from this place.
Willing to do anything to obtain the prize,
Deceitful plans they have devised.
With eager daggers behind their backs,
They spring upon her in hordes and packs.
While tearing at the Angel's wings,
Lies and blasphemous songs they sing.

From the garden's edge a stranger hears,
The falling of Angelic_Tears.
Without a second thought steps forward,
With a mighty cry draws his sword.
One by one, the demons fall,
Until he had dispatched them all.
His armor now drenched in blood,
From the bodies he cut down where they stood.
The nameless man; the last to stand,
Helps her up with an outstretched hand.

She offers the rose as his reward,
For the great peril he had endured.
The man said, "This thing you ask I can not do,
For the flower's beauty comes from you."
"It will not survive long outside this place,
So far away from your Angelic_Grace."
He touched her face with hands torn and rough,
"For me, this is reward enough."


* A man of great words wrote this for me. Thank you. <3 

Untitled and Unlabeled

They think the darkness will swallow me whole.
Because I'm enraged and deranged I will sell my soul.
Because I'm angst ridden and hidden, I'll eat the bullet.
Just because my finger is on the trigger, doesn't mean I'll pull it.

They believe Satan will feast off my flesh.
Because I've neither proclaimed nor denied religion yet.
Because I'm lost and distraught, I'm damned to hell.
Just because my spirit soars free, doesn't suggest I do what I do solely to rebel.

They feel I can't survive the realism of society.
Because I don't care how the public views me.
Because I look a bit different from the rest.
Just because I look as I do, doesn't imply I'm worthless or senseless.

They see a depressed and sinister soul within my writing.
Because I am obviously, nothing more than the surface they reach.
Because it is easier to judge what one cannot comprehend.
Just because it's more diverse, doesn't give way to offend.

I have never claimed the labels placed upon me.
I am not my material possessions or my money.
I am not my style, my clothes nor my shoes.
I am not the music I enjoy listening to.

This is me...this is who I've grown to be.
In money, I see irrational greed.
In style, I find comfort and security.
In music, I feel inspiration and empathy.

My writing is my passion...my expression...my release.
I am an imaginative pragmatist...free and deep thinking.
I view the world in different shades and tones.
I appreciate the poetic beauty residing in the shadows.

Take a look at me now...a real good look.
I am not the worm strung from the hook.
Look at yourselves...you are the insignificant bait.
Simplistic bias minds, bound to one dreadful fate.

3:32 am

Sometimes...I wish you would read this.
I wish you could see all that I am.
Everything that I hide inside.
Every thought...each idea.
My beliefs.
My morals.
My interests.
My intelligence.
My goals.
What it is I hold dear to me.
All that I feel for you.
I wish you to know me.
I know you so well.
If only you could see me in my entirety...maybe...you would feel differently.
Perhaps, you would run faster.
We may never know.
For the fear of you having control...forbids it be shown.

Selfish.
Narcissistic.
Apprehensive.
Neurotic.
Infatuated.
Call me what you will.

In love, lust and loathing...my heart never ceases to burn for you. 

Mike Bohatch Image: Choices

Amazing.

Divulgence

Always reaching for words...to illustrate the infinite thoughts.

Scattered.  Spellbound.  Disorientated...in my head.

Always resorting back...to mindless emotions.

Sorrow.  Sanction.  Desolation...merely dread.

Always coming up short...of what it is I wish to express.

Sardonic.  Sadistic.  Decadence...imaginings I have already said.


I must scale to superior summits.

Once again, enhance my wits.

Dig and search to find...

words to depict the portraits in my mind. 

Him

Sometimes, I wish I never met him. For, my heart would still be my own.

.....

It is when we dare to question out own sanity...that we go utterly mad.

Stale September

I sense you in the September air.
Inhale your essence in the breeze.
The chill upon my spine reminds me.
As if, it was your kiss upon my neck.
The seasons always bring me back.
The song you sang to me echoes in my head.
"Hey little girl...tonight it's just you and me little girl...
I'm waiting darling...don't be late...for tonight...
my heart aches...for you little girl..."
I try to clear my mind.
Slow the beating.
Hush the screaming.
Soothe the weeping
Of the broken lover that lurks within.
It was neither you, nor I.
Merely, a missing link between love and it's fatality.
There is no cure for your absence.
No face to fill the empty space you gave.
No man speaks as honest tongues as yours.
No will left to find he, who will resurrect me.
For each time, it is nothing more than the same thing.
Embrace...enrage...erase...retrace.