the love of a friend

you poor poor miserable being.

life didnt deal you the hand you anticipated did it?
you never quite imagined you'd end up this way..
so young and already fucking wasted my friend...
just take take taking didnt pan out so well for ya aye?..

you poor poor miserable being.

always something to say.

always something to say.

thats just weakness sweeping through you my dear.
your carcass is sad.
your mind in a bundle.
your days in a haze.
the light within me just makes you even more crazed....

you poor poor miserable being.

I wish upon you strength and clarity.
I wish upon you purpose.
I wish away your ignorance and hate..
your judgements and your unintelligent traits.
I wish away your need to only serve others and your true lack of self..
I wish away your mommy, and your friends, and your boyfriend
so you can just figure it all fucking out.
I wish for you to be alone in a room, with nothing but your skin....
looking only at your self in the mirrors, and let the eating hatred begin....


ahhh my dear Im ever so sorry, but from your confining shell Ive outgrown.
I, unlike you, can stand in the glory of the sun, without the closeness of anyone.
I unlike you, can breathe easy and be deep.
be one with the ocean, and sleep a restful sleep.
Ive erased my need for needing.
I washed away my pain.
I stand stronger now before you...
and for that youve become afraid.
I wish away your anger.
I wish away your fake.
I wish for you to be happy darlin
and to find your rightful place.
breathe my name forever sweetie because to you Im already dead.
rememer when I walk by you honey that Im not ever gonna leave your head....
my face will always haunt you,
my success will remind you of when....
carousels, ponys and doll babies consumed your little head...
before your soul was taken
and your heart was fuckin dead.

In bed with mom

terror.
irrational maybe.
who knows.
I sure as hell don't.
my mind used to be my biggest strength
now it tricks me.
hates me even.
takes away my very breath.
lord take me back to my positive state.
The girl I used to be.
the one that could take on the world.
hug away my fears and provide me with a safe place.
kiss me.
I'm sorry.
I'm so very sorry.
Im not who I thought I was.
and I betrayed who I was supposed to be.
But I know now who I am.
I cry because I am not perfect.
This I now know too.
I cry because I don't know the answers.
Oh the many things we may never understand in this life.
The fog consumes me and punches me square in the stomach.
I breathe it all in.
heavy.
This ball of anxiety I cannot escape.
always present, a pit of emptiness, a cavity hole.
dark.
she aches.
here we go again,
she aches.
spirals out of control now and then.
I feel her anger, rising, rising.
spinning and spinning.
cycling out of control.
out of control again.
I try and try to calm her.
Breathe, sunshine, life.
Baby,
Bethanie mae,
breathe again honey,
do it for me.
You're gonna be ok,
no one can save you but yourself.
which makes it even worse.
I can't rely on myself.
I'm weak.
Only temporarily she stops.
Like an evil child.
she waits until she's agitated again to explode.
unexpectedly.
always
 so
 fucking
nervous.
I want to move forward, as I know now all that I have.
I want to live clearly and be present.
Better.
Simple.
Real.
The way I should have been all along.
Its always been right here.
the secret we all wish to know,
Its always just been
right here.
This whole time, waiting to be found.
I pray that its not too late.
Lord, Fill me with your strength.
Heal me.
Because I really need you now.
Fill my wounds and holes..
Cover me with your protective brightness,
and let me live through you.
Because you are safe.
And I will make you proud.

Emergency Fund

All to often, we often feel compelled to sacrifice or postpone the seeds of joy in favor of a practicality that we hope will insure a secure future.....



when you come from debris, a solid foundation in the future becomes an obsession.
In fact, most of your young life is spent in a state of building, because standing on moving rubble is the worst of things you know.
This causes one to adapt and transform into shells or mutations of yourself that are not only unrecognizable but are completely false.

In your head you construe these mutations as a form of strength, or rising above your given circumstance, so you press on, full speed ahead, onward to your success loyal soldier.
salute!

Embarking on this imaginary path though, you invariably lose your way.
You aren't sure you remember what is you and what is shell.
You cry at the loss of yourself almost always.
You cry because you don't remember what is real and you've imagined.
You cry because you used to feel and now you're incapable.

There is a calm that comes from your productivity.


Swallow the fragmented shells and create a stronger hybrid individual that can be controlled and continually manipulated over time, promising success and security?

Or attempt to excavate the remnants that was once your soul and fling yourself smack dab into the unknowness of the fucken planetary world.

Awesome.
Splat!

Probably not.
What's behind door number two?

Why are we so afraid of happiness really?
Infatuation.
Zeal.
Amour.
Provocateur?

Its because real happiness makes us irrational.

Bottom line.
End of fucken story.

A builders biggest angst.

For it takes us off our calculated plan.
Into a place of lawlessness.
And any builder knows a world like that, simply cannot be.
A world of dreams?
Unrealistic.

Builders are very scared people contrary to the popular belief.
They build the most perfect heartbroken lives don't you agree?
The mayberry's of the world, for all to adore.
What awe and respect they are given.
The more perfection, the more heartbreak, I assure you.
Those walls are cold inside my friend.

The irony in it all, no?

Children aspiring to be you.
Empty fragile you.

The rubble people are the ones that truly live, and yet they don't even know it.
There is nothing else to do in the rubble, but live you see.
Only to appreciate the small.

Simple beings.
Wonderful beings.
Artisitic, compassionate, soulful beings.

We builders fear their lax.
But we secretly admire them so.
You know, with their souls and all.

We paint them. Draw them.
Write about them.
Build buildings and monuments for them.
Cities even.
Confidentially fall in love with them and then deny them.
Discard them because we fear becoming one of them.
"what would people think?!"

Only applying yet again, another layer to our own eternal ache.
Building it further.
Denying our selves what it means to truly live.
Keep building.


Destined we are...to live forever in our minds.

A
L
O
N
E

.........All to often we feel compelled to sacrifice or postpone the seeds of joy in favor of a practicality that we hope will insure a secure future.......

New Dawn

She's still.
Eerilly still.
She breathes sometimes, but mostly she waits.
Slowly dying I see.
Tense....
Tense....
Tense.....
Sharp toothed parasites knawing through the tender innocent linings of her gut, monsters inside her surely.
isopropyl alcohol.
poured on her flesh.
anything to make it stop.
she screams.
raw
unadultered
pain.
not even the luxury of a cotton swab.
poor thing, she still is yet to know.

lifeless meat.
she cries.
she cries inside, she cries outside.
once so strong and omnivescent.

now-

defeated.
deflated.
STOP CHILD.
STOP  CHILD AND SEE.

Temporary.
only temporary this sting my love.
Their will come happiness. I promise you this.
The line of your life is long.

Remember young one there is no winning or losing in this life.
There is only attempt.
Bless her heart.

life is here merely to teach sweet one.
as long as knowledge is being gained.
there is growth.
grow my child.
GROW.
For there will come a time when you can no longer.
Your roots won't always be so thick.
grow into all you are yet to be.
A flower taller and brighter then most.
For you know this deep inside.
For no one shines like you, even with the dirt on your face.
Oh sweet one, the things you will learn.

It ails me to see your pain.
but the beauty from the roughage my love, thats when you'll see.
glory from the rain sweet child.
glory from your rain.
may it soak you through and through.
down to your very bones, and follicles in your marrow.
your very chromosomes my child.
let it soak you.
clean you.
may it be hard and impossible.
take you almost until your very death.
For THAT is the environment in which you thrive, my child.
you used to know this child and be proud.
but you've since forgotten your soul's origination.
oh child, such a mistake.
so I politely remind you now.
this dawn.
you did not come from silver my sweet one.
The mud is where you dwell.
Dont be fooled by your shiney things, they are not real.
All in good faith my dear all in good faith.
you know this of me.
so cry, cry, cry your tears.
Feel, feel, feel your pain.
For there is nothing more beautiful then seeing through the rain.