Untitled (2015)

Writing

You’re not going to save me.

Lie to me, rely on me, tell me I matter so my mind doesn’t constantly tick and make my heart scream.

Sometimes jumping doesn’t mean I want to lose everything, sometimes I just want to fly.

I just want to see if I can fly. I’ll see wings Pierce through my skin and I’ll finally be able to soar like I’ve been told to.

I’ll escape the dark and fly into whatever is ahead. Maybe the skies will still be cloudy.
Maybe ill suffer a fate like Icarus. I’ll escape these dark skies and I’ll fly into a blue sky and my wings will burn from flying too close to the sun. Just like a heart filled with too much love, my wings will burst and break apart. I’ll plummet to the ground. If only I could fly.

I know these wings won’t appear, I know I only find solace in the dark. I know jumping from
The top of the mountain of fear I’ve built will always just be a test.

Another routine I suffer through occasionally to see if
I’m truly breathing, to check if all the lack of sleep has killed me yet.

But I’m always breathing. Haven’t seen the light at the end of any tunnel.

Everything seems bleak when you live in darkness your whole life
Now I just want to run to the end of the path in front of me.

If I jump right at the end, will my wings appear or will I just plummet?

I’ve never been blessed by priests or sprinkled with holy waters.
Why are angels the only ones allowed to fly?

Demons follow us our whole lives. They don’t go away, we spend our whole lives battling the thoughts we attempt to ignore. We fight every day to keep ourselves sloppily put together.

I can see the darkness in the eyes of the ones who care the intelligence that I do.

The type of genius that can’t be measured by essays, tests, and quizzes. There’s intelligence that is unmatched.

People who are just as brilliant as I, no even more than I . They suffer as I do.

They see the truth
In the world just as I do.

Do you want to jump too?

Take In the ripe air and with eyes closed leap through the dark with all hopes that these wings aren’t just a dream that maybe we could fly.

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A thank you letter to everyone who has ever listened to be babble and complained or ever saw something in me.

Writing

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where I am really attempting to go in life, I haven’t found any answer, I really wanted to simply thank anyone who ever listened to my ideas, anyone who took time
Out of their lives to offer me advice even if I didn’t follow it.

I am nothing, without the people who have done countless things for me.

So I sincerely thank every single person who had been there for me.

I love you all.

I’ve always felt like love was supposed to be painful then sweet.
Love that I first remember felt like a needle in the arm and that band aid afterwards was so tender.

I feel as if love is the pain I decide to accept or even give out. It’s a life long lesson I’ve been trying to master my whole life. When my brother moved out and left me and grandma years ago, he called me a week after his departure and told me he loved me, even though he was causing me so much heartache by leaving me behind, cause I wanted to grow up together. I wanted to have a brother always around. At that moment, all I felt was hurt so I began associating love  with pain  for years. Maybe even before this instance but it’s one I remember this one the best.  That people hurt me because they love me. I caused pain to people because I love them, because I loved them I hurt them, even if I didn’t mean too.

But that is not love.

Love is far from that.

Love is the sensation of caterpillars crawling in your stomach and nuzzling away in cocoons that keep you warm and giggling at night when the conversations never
Falter.

Love is the empty space between words where silence feels like a million words have already been said, so it is okay to fall into one another’s eyes within those silent moments.

Love is accepting everything and growing together, and when the cocoons hatch. Those butterflies will have all the messages you’ve struggled to send,
All the words you’ve failed to find written ever so clear on their wings.

It took me a long time to disassociate pain and love.

But I’ve had a sunflower and a circle of friends who have shown me that love isn’t shown the way I that I’ve thought and that pain is just another apart of growing.
Eventually we all get hurt.

Pain is just another part of life we experience,
Love is the experience of life.

Never Forget to love, Learn to forget the pain and grow.
I know this is confusing and makes 0 sense to many but it’s just how I’ve been feeling for the last few months.

I wrote this while intoxicated and it’s gonna be apart of the book I’m working on. Yeah the book is in progress. It’s just gonna take a long time

Writing

I’m stuck in this mind set that I’m alone in everything, I feel like I’m just grabbing people’s ankles and shackling them when I talk about alone I feel. As I attempt to talk, I see the demons appear, silhouettes disguised from plain sight. They dance while holding thick rusted shackles. They dance around your ankles, you can’t feel that weight being applied but I see it. The smile that leaves your face when I respond to the simple question: “are you okay?” ,

All you needed to hear was a sound “No”, but I was tired of lying so I decided to be honest, I chose to tell someone, anyone that I wasn’t ok. I thought it was going to be ok, I thought this wasn’t going to ruin anything. I took a sharp inhale, closed my eyes for a moment, I curved my mouth and said: “No, I’m not okay. Every day I feel like there is nothing inside of me. It’s like I’ve fallen in love with my own demise and all I can do is keep falling. I feel like a joyless book where all the pages end with me jumping onto a of spikes. I don’t think I ever recovered from the loss of my mother. How can I go on with life? How can I accomplish anything if I can barely bring myself to get out of bed most days and face the world? I used to feel like I was in love with something, with someone. Those just became distractions upon distractions as I attempted to forget about the things that bounced back and forth in my cranium.”

As I finished talking, there was no longer any happiness in your face, there was no tentative glance in your eyes. The demons had already shackled you and began pulling you down before I even got the chance to say I’m sorry for bringing you down. I am sorry, cause even I don’t want to hear myself cry through these words. Every word Feels like an annoyance to me. Just another sadly written self loathing letter to myself. Every time I speak I feel like I steal the light out of you, that light was all I wanted. Not for myself but to share to bask in your light. Whenever I speak I just waste it. Then you become as empty as men

The thing is, I’ve always had a hard time talking about love. Telling someone how much j wanted love. Simply because all of my chances with love. Make me feel like an undeserving child who has been spoiled with too many things he hasn’t earned.

I’m terrified because it feels too good, how can I know this pleasure when all of the joy I get it just gets snatched away from me?

There will be times where I just feel this immense light beaming down on me, it feels as warm and embracing as my mothers arms. After a while this horrific feeling crawls up my spine and I feel like the happiness is just a facade.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore

Questioning myself during a crisis. (Unedited)

Writing, Writing

What if the girl noticed the boy staring from across the hall with heart filled eyes? what if the girl finally introduced herself to the introvert? What if
That girl with the Wry smile and eyes that never left a book got
The prince she always read about? Maybe the world would stop, maybe love would finally
Mean something more than just a simple text message with a few hearts and winks.

Maybe passion is appreciated.

Maybe I’ve been keeping my thoughts bottled up too often now.

Taking breaths of cold air, lying to myself with these possibilities. I don’t want to spend my whole
Life chasing something and realizing I didn’t want it. I don’t want my heart to stutter thump at every female that smiles in my direction.

Hope I can escape this feeling hopeless loneliness.

Lines dedicated to the person I Hope to become, so I’ll never turn back to these times,
These questions that rattle my brain.
Feeling burdened with the reality of my existence,
I find questions that linger. They settle gently on my mind like feathers, I can’t shake them

It feels as if feathers have fallen into the deepest parts of who I am and have begun to create havoc.

Questions about my existence, my worth, who I really am, if this is the life I’m meant to lead.

As the moon rises and illuminates the sky. The feathers fall deeper and deeper into my thought process.

I close my eyes and get lost in a never ending vortex of questions.

Questions I’ll never answer, questions that will eventually
Awaken the demons that I’ve always lived with.
Chasing trains of thought trying to keep up with my erratic thought process.
What if all of this is just a waste of time? What if I’m writing down the thoughts that I already had? What if I truly don’t exist?

Maybe I’m just another figment of someone’s imagination, another voodoo doll to squeeze and Torture.
Reconfiguring my chemical balance, drinking until I collapse, hiding the obvious cold pain deep in my heart. I’ve been holding my mind prisoner, keeping my mind shut off from a thought process, I’ve grown tired of chasing my train of thought. There aren’t any stops on the tracks.

Maybe I should fall to my knees and scream until
My lungs grew tired and my heart stopped wanting to beat, maybe I could jump into the ocean and let the water embrace me until I finally
Gave myself to it.
What’s more to life than these desperate moments.
I spend the summers trapped in my room and embed my thoughts in the walls that surround me. Assuming if I do so, I’ll answer my questions, I’ll find the passion in my life that I so desire.

Writing down words and phrases hoping to invoke a new beginning within myself.
All I’ve found is more questions, why are we all so easily programable? the grip we have upon or phones imitates the grip the phone has on us. It never leaves out pockets or
Hands.
The worst thing I ever asked of my myself, can I handle life? I’ve always had the one answer of a assured no.

I can’t handle this thing we call life, I get up everyday, and there is nothing.

I feel nothing, I don’t joy or relief that I am alive, I don’t look in the mirror. Not that I fear my reflection, I don’t look in the mirror because Illl look into my own eyes and hate who I am even more.

At night when the television has gone to rest from my constant abuse. I lay in bed away from all distractions and the voices creep from underneath the cloak of night they begin to whisper, from a whisper they become clear voices.

They all sound like me, they are me. They confidently tell me of my wrongs, assuring me that my mistakes were going to happen again, that I have ruined it all. There’s a faint whistle in the air, the small child with four locks of hair dangling around his innocent head.

That tiny voice breaks through at times and will give me hope, hope that the words that people tell me are true that they are believable. That child in me, he takes all the compliments and love I receive and keeps it safe for me. I keep all that warmth locked away for when I hit rock bottom again. Because every day is a tragedy for me, another loss, another failure along the path.

This year alone I’ve ran. I’ve ran from that hope I keep in me. I’ve been running blindly. Feeling empty aggression, rushing forward into whatever awaits hoping to destroy anything.

Sometimes I don’t care about anything or anyone.

Holding onto moments where the air feels pure and the people around me inspire poetic symphonies within me.

Reminiscing on the women I loved, I wonder if they ever feel like I do: questioning about how things are, how they could’ve been. Was I good enough? Was my heart big enough to carry their burden? Or did love just blur our vision and destroy us all?

If laughter is good for the soul, why do we only laugh for a brief moment? When it all ends does our soul go back to crying?

Momentary joy that only lingers for seconds and soon after we are immediately pulled back into reality. No one can laugh forever, no one can love forever.

So why make promises of happy forevers when, the beautiful flowers die after they bloom? So what makes anyone think love is eternal?

I’ve just been asking these questions to myself, to whatever holy figure watches down over me.

I’ve given up on my childish endeavors, I’ve given up on the goal of happiness.

Chasing happiness or even love has always felt like I was running a marathon and the more I tried the further I fell behind. My legs grew tired easily, my heart have out too quick, everyone looked ahead of me and all I could see was the ground right beneath me.
I’ve been asking these questions,because as of late I’ve lost a few things and life is anything but decent.

My heart aches and my mind is demented every evening. My imagination runs past my train of thoughts and leaves behind dark jewels that I know I’ll pick up and be absorbed into the abyss.

I thanked all my friends for being my friend recently, at least all the ones that ever were there for me. I don’t think they understood what happened. They didn’t see the fear in my words. The agony of giving up that I tried to brandish in those words.

I guess I’ve reached the highest cliff and I’ve been thinking is, should I jump?

Spent a decade playing superman for the ones around and yet no one dawned a cape
For
Me.

What about me, what about the lost boy that resides deep in my heart?

Sometimes it gets lonely trapped inside this place all alone, so I created replicas of myself to wander the earth and attain the knowledge of the finest foods, experiences, and the most decadent lovers and all they can offer.

I send them across the world so they can come back and tell me their tales.

The first story I heard, it was about how people always avert their eyes. The truths that they always seem to ignore. What if the truth was always right across from us? But we’re too scared to ever face it?

Why are we taught to run from the truth?
Some days I stare up into the clouds and I want to chase the sunset until I find where it rests in the ocean, I’d drag it out of the sea and throw it back into the sky so everyone could see how beautiful these clouds could be. We can’t mold them but they become these whimsical shapes that we admire.

In this sublunar world of ours, all I have felt and all I have done, has felt empty.

I’ve strived to create moments of irreplaceable bliss for the people around me.

 

 

 

I’ve been thinking about time travel a lot once the clocks strikes the lonely hours.

I’d fly back and relive the moments of embarrassment and shame that linger heavily on my heart.

I don’t question whether or not these things will change my present or my future.
I’ll always be the same self-loathing, thirsty for self-destruction being.

That won’t change. Even if I wanted it to, I wouldn’t travel that far back into they trauma I experienced.

Id fly back into my mothers arms for a brief moment, I would need her warmth to help me make it through the journeys I was gonna repurpose and give myself the outcomes I think I deserve.

The first stop after my mother, it would be this fight my brother had with my grandmother when I was 11.

He had been coming home at 2 am or so from his girlfriend’s house. Our grandmother refused to tolerate it. She kicked him out, after that. My brother never returned here to live. He started what would be his own grand and eventful
Life.

I’d save my brother that trouble, and tell him to just call Grandma. I don’t want to feel the pain of feeling like an only child anymore. But we aren’t children anymore, all these words. Are meaningless. I have such a tight grip on the past, an even tighter one on my mistakes.
I should’ve said it to them all before that I’m sorry, that I’m sorry that the walls close in and all I can do is panic and run to the closest corner and turn tail to my fears.

That I’m sorry that I have no idea what I want or what I should do. I only wanted to see them smile and to make the proud but all I’ve seen are eyes filled with disappointment. I’ve heard the sighs of distaste and the cold silence of regret for believing in me.

In the midst of a tornado all I can do is think about the quicksand below me: no matter how much I struggle to escape. I will never escape.

I am the quicksand. I am my own destruction and problem. There is no running from myself.

There is no running when the only one following me. Is my shadow.

I can scream and yell and swing at it. But I’m
Never going away.

I am who I am. That will never change. There is no special destination that will change who I am.

A period of venting that doesn’t make sense, still full of self-hatred and loneliness

Writing

Maybe I’ll take this broken heart out my chest and throw into your arms so you carry my pain too. I don’t want apologies for the pain I’ve suffered majority of it all was self-inflicted.
Focusing on my conversational skills so my thoughts don’t seem frantic whenever you look me in the eye and speak, my heart heavy and my mind’s weak.

I’ve grown tired of putting my heart at stake for the ones around me so they’ll have a comfort zone when their eyes are heavy with pain and their cheeks flooding.

Attempting to keep
My thoughts in order. Because I everything I write is written in sporadic burst of uninspired angst.

I can only write this dark place and it always feels like I’m trying to empty out a bottomless pitcher of dark water.

I’ve been searching for something in myself for a very long time, I haven’t found an answer or a profound explanation of how things work in my head.
I’ve been trying to find some way to tell people that I appreciate them, that I love them for all that they do to try to motivate me and pull me out of the dark I love so much.

I was never good at making any of you people proud, because I know that just a simple “thank you” would never be good enough.

I’m afraid these words I’ve always struggled to put together will never be worthy of anyone’s thoughts.

I’ve been trying to write something my whole life that would define me, that words that I made concrete could put in place so that I could admired for my art. Even if that art is a failure I want to only be accepted.

My eyes burning in the early moments of dawn as I struggle to construct a moment in these words that worth a glance over by another human being.

When I first started writing, it was all about this one woman who I thought I was in love with,

I experienced everything through my failures with her, I felt joy, misery, disgust, passion. Human nature knew I had enough but I didn’t listen to common sense, I chased cherry blossom petals into a dangerous forest where all the eyes were on the man who never left her side.

My demons say the smoke takes my pain from me and the alcoholic tendencies take the loneliness from me. All in this pursuit to cope.

Attempts to cope with all my losses, the thump of my heart echoes in the darkest hours of the night. The realm in which I exist; the only time I feel more than just a pawn.

Trying to compile words in a way that is significant. To create a lasting memory.

I’ve been really
Afraid of writing for about a year now.

I’ve been just jotting down words, like I used to.

Things haven’t hit me the same way, they haven’t hit me at all.

I’ve pushed myself back into a corner. Where my words don’t give me the same therapeutic sense of relief that they once gave me.

All my words feel forced. My love feels fake, not
To others but to me.

All these sentences and lines used to be my motivational cry that echoed in other people so they could escape the path similar to mine.

I wrote for people who sinned, who felt as I do.

I wanted to play superman and save the ones whose hearts were filled with light but their mind was just clouded.

Now it feels like my cape feels like a noose. Focused too much on the safety of others when i alone felt the emptiest. Overlooking myself.

Cold Spit

Writing

Id been waiting for this moment for so long. This bitter air. The snow would form a throne for me and I was the only heir. I belonged outside in these harsh winds.

The hours, minutes, days didn’t matter because the day was short and the night was long. I finally felt at home in this planet. My breath finally in front of me.

My body still warm i step into the cold and I feel welcomed. I don’t feel alone here.

I am alone, I am low and lonely. But the winter, it brings me such pleasure it makes my heart weep, my lip quiver.

Oh in love I am. I stay out awaiting for the snow flakes to bless me with their gift of beauty.

There are no human souls, there is only the fleeing birds and the sound of my breath as I stroll this desolate wonderland.

I belong here, all I’ve ever done is beg to be alone and then when I finally am alone I beg for someone to save me from myself.

I trap myself out in the frozen forests and slide down the icy paths, no one else is around so I hear my inner voice. I hear the sound of my pain, my loneliness.

I’ve always been so unhappy and so despondent. I wanted to fall in love in high school I wanted to be that guy who got to be with his high school sweetheart. I wanted to love someone, I’ve always been incapable of loving myself. So I wanted to give my love to someone, I just hoped that they’d consider loving me back. I spent so much time trying to love someone. I learned all their flaws and their amazing qualities, I ripped my heart right
Out my chest and threw it on the floor for them and told them “spit on it, because my love isn’t enough for you”, nothing I had was enough for anyone so I allowed them all to just shame my love and my heart. I was tired of feeling empty and alone, but that was just high school. Whenever the winter came, I always found myself outside, letting the cold bite at my skin, the wind tormenting my face. It hurt enough for me to love it, I didn’t feel lonely in this cold. I felt like the earth finally wanted me to feel something. Yet the world didn’t notice that I had died right there, no that I had killed myself searching and seeking out the love that I believed I wanted. I died right in the middle of a valley of snow, just deep enough that my face was submerged. No one noticed it, after a while I stopped concerning myself with coming back from my thoughts.
I pray that it is always cold and the snow always falls and warms my skin. So I can lay covered in its cold bliss, and find solace in my head.

After a while, I didn’t feel a single thing.
I don’t think I can save a single person but I always want to try.

My vision left took my mind out past the andromeda. What adventure would this death soon bring me.

I thought it was good that my emotions were gone and I could feel nothing

While

I was lost in a place where I couldn’t catch my breath:

I had no friends here.

Everything is so much more beautiful when you’re lost. I hate that I can’t stop and stay and learn something new from a life form that people have never seen.

You didn’t realize I died for a little while and you never cared.

the truth

Writing

This is roneige’s point of view on a situation that he and i both were in and it’s the best thing i’ve read and the first thing i’m reblogging on my own blog

roneige

A real man doesn’t have to touch your breasts to know your heart.

A real man doesn’t have to taste your lips when you kiss to know you’re sweet.

A real man doesn’t have to see you bare to love the way you look.

A real man doesn’t have to hear you moan to love your voice ,and a real man doesn’t need to own you or leave bruises on your skin to show that you’re  his.

Remember this when you get into his car tonight and he drives you to his house.

Remember this when he lays you down in his arms and strips you naked of all the truth you’ve even known and whispers sweet nothing in your ears.

Remember when he wakes you up and beats you with the cold truth about how last night never meant anything to him that it meant to everything to that…

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The Book, this is the last time i post it because i don’t know if i wanna finish it or make it better so here.

Writing

Intro

The snowflakes seemed to serenade the skyline’s figure as the descended onto the ground where they created a cocoon of bitter fluff. I find calm in these winter storm where the snow is thrown to and fro with only one objective in mind. To conceal all of our lies: once the snow is gone and the spring has crept up to our noses and barraged our nostrils with pollen. We are offered a new start, a new wasteland. I’d like to think that being born in January was meant to happen. That I’d be evacuated from my mother lovely womb into a world of frozen footsteps at the right time: right when the entire world has to endure its longest nights, and frigid days. Before I became this stoic man obsessed with death and of kind demeanor I was broken and beaten down by the jaw shattering blows that life threw at my youthful, and naïve chin. I still arose from being bloodied and learned the inner workings of my mind and finally grasped the things that should matter to a human being. I’ve always felt the need the need to share my life, and what I’ve endured with the world, in hopes to spark some sense of emotion or something that lit a fire under the tender asses of children who don’t appreciate the spoon that has been placed upon their ungrateful tongues. These are my memoirs, my sorrow, my lessons; these are my pieces of a kid. These are the words that are stolen from my heart and liberate onto paper.

I should’ve died countless times; the idea of death was prominent in my mind. I wanted to be alleviated of my thoughts. I tried to take my own life as a child, and as a teenager. Hoping that I could have a conversation with death about god and what life means, and why our clock run so fast and our lives are always in distress. I had questions that only god could answer but whenever I tried to call upon him my mouth was numb from screaming and and his ears were deaf. As a kid I just wanted my mother back, the names I was called, the voices that whispered about my life, the pain I felt. As a teenager, I just ran from everything, college, life, love, pain, friends and family, All I ever knew how to do as a teenager was run from responsibilities and the ideas of a better future no one knew the pain of these times, the pitiful pride that I drove myself to believe I had and the gritty and raw anger and passion I held in my heart. These stories will come at another time, I just want to remember a happier time, when I was a child and my heart was filled with butterflies and my mind was crayon-colored and the world was just a rainbow that I admired through innocent eyes.

The earliest memories I have are of me being in elementary school and the infamous era of cooties and idiotic diseases that were only visible to our pseudo infant eyes. I was in love with my bus driver, this girl in my kindergarten class, and this girl at after care. I hardly remember the bus driver’s name or the girl at aftercare. But I remember vividly her, the girl who first broke my tiny heart.

I have memories that haunt me, and they’ve been haunting me for years, I’ve never been good at letting go of things and it hinders me, it hinders who I am, and how I look at myself. I’ve never saw myself as a person deserving things. I’ve never truly had a love for myself. I’ve always been apologetic and honest with people.  I’m sorry to everyone for the changes that I’ve been through and how it all affected you. I never knew I’d changes just as the seasons did and that I’d lose so many people. How am I supposed to know that all my demons were just waiting to strike me down? I’ve ignored them as I grew and before I realized it. I had stopped ignoring them and I acknowledged their place in my world.

What’s the point of the sun if it doesn’t create darkness? What was the difference in happy and sad?

Everything had its purpose.  Maybe this story has one as well. I’ve been dealing with my mistakes and my ignorance and my loneliness, I’ve never wanted to admit to being lonely, to needing anyone. I never asked to be the person that I am. I spent a great deal of my life listening to just myself, trapped inside of my head: the only place I’ve ever truly belonged.  I’ve been hoping that all my emotions have been real, that maybe I’ve been in love, that maybe I’ve been heartbroken and felt that pain because lately all I’ve felt is nothing. I don’t know who I am; I used to believe I did. I have no clue what I am or who I may be.

This is my life, in all of its glory, pain, and loss.

 

Mother

I yearned for your presence. You were the massive planet that revolved around mine. You gave my eyes light and my heart warmth. I want to write to you, I want to write you sweet love letters and confess to you of my sins right now as a man.

My mother had just enough room in her womb and enough love in her heart for me.

I’d like to think that maybe she sung to me and her hands caressed her stomach and I felt that warmth.

Five years after my brother escaped , I was conceived, my mother’s belly rotund and her skin was shining with youth and her body weary from the weight that I gave her. I took my first breaths on a frozen afternoon when the sun was high but its rays couldn’t warm up this frozen wasteland we call home.

            As a child, I couldn’t wait to get home from school to rush into your arms and rest my sore body onto the couch beside and watch a few hours of PBS with you. Those experiences meant the entire galaxy to me. Words filled my universe with strong burning dwarf stars that never seemed to dim or burn out.

            Then one day, your star began to burn out. Then the apocalypse came and my summers became as cold as winter solstices. Your breath would no longer press upon the nape of my neck as I used to swing my arms around you for tender hugs.

Your star is burned out. I didn’t know that the next time I’d see you; you’d just be a cold empty vessel. My heart turned bitter as I peered into your new mahogany sail boat to the heavens. You gave me a final heart-warming sensation before we parted ways. I felt your warmth down my cheek as I shed tears from touching your stiff frozen corpse.

I never wanted to get up from the crowd. I never wanted to hear the whispers “what’s he going to do? His mother is gone, who’s going to take care of him? He’s so young, his brother is too. I hope they are okay” or even better the whispers of how beautiful my mother was, or about how everyone loved her. None of these things mattered once you were in the ground mother dearest. You were six feet beneath, it felt like I was thrown down there with you. I daydreamed about it. My tiny hands reaching out for that casket; yet I was frozen, frozen right there in that moment watching you fall further and further from me. I felt like a disgrace. The people around it felt like their constant statements about the “pearly gates” were all clamoring together and it made this obnoxious ruckus into my frontal lobes. As the dirt began to cover you I felt a bitter shiver come over my body. I closed my eyes and played back our greatest memories. The memories flooded my mind, and as they did everyone saw a waterfall that afternoon. Everyone stood tall around me and their arms stretched around my back and engulfed me in their sad bellies.

I’ll never forget the moments that we shared. I’ll never forget your smile or your love.

 

 

 

 

The earliest memories I have are of me being in elementary school and the infamous era of cooties and idiotic diseases that were only visible to our pseudo infant eyes. I was in love with my bus driver, this girl in my kindergarten class, and this girl at after care. I hardly remember the bus driver’s name or the girl at aftercare. But I remember vividly her, the girl who first broke my tiny heart

 

The Music

Ever since I was a child I’ve been in love with the sound of saxophones. My mother played James Brown cassettes when we drove around in her tiny blue bean car. The cushioning on the roof would dance with the orchestra as James Brown screeched into the microphone. It was a live performance recording so I could hear the sound of the audience screaming and shouting with him. When the big payback came on, my body started to move with the music.  I think I’m still alive today because of music, and the effects that it has over me. I only listen to songs that have always reached my heart, when I was heartbroken I found solace and a content sensation when I heard a musician’s heart crying like mine in a song.

There was a point in my life where I my eyes were clouded and my hands were shaking. I thought I had reached my end. I tried to gain entry to hells burning curtains while leaping forth from a roof. My heart wasn’t in my chest it was in the pit of my stomach boiling with acid and screaming for help.

I never made it to the ground; I never got close enough to hell. I was denied entrance it was too early for me to see what lied beyond those curtains.

When you died I thought I was going to go next, I wanted to go next, I thought god was going to kill me and let me be with you and you could tell me the stories we could never share now.

I thought if I jumped off that roof, or dove into that pool. Maybe I’d be next, someone always saves me.  Then I’m just stuck with the ghost of you, your spirit that walks by the corner of my eye and causes my heart to jump. Why won’t you stay with me? Why can’t I ever see you again? There was so much about the world you never told me. You never taught how handle emotion.

I constantly stare at pictures of you because I never want to feel like I’m forgetting you as I grow old and useless. I wondered if the melodies that played in my head would be my muse, I always had little rhythms and melodies that played within my head; I’d hum them and make instrumentals with just my mouth.  I fell in love with music before I ever started my affair with words.

 

 

 

 

 

Violence

            Middle school was all such an emotional thrill ride that I just suffered through. I was just another kid who was looking for himself and never understood myself. I got picked on by these two girls they would always bear their fangs at me whenever we crossed paths. I would cower into my shell because I never was able to grasp the words from within myself. I hid them all away because I was afraid to hurt others. I’d much rather just get hurt myself.

That all changed in seventh grade. Sixth grade was nothing of any importance. Seventh grade is when I finally broke the chains off my heart and the anger finally was useful for something other than self-hate. I clenched my fist and I felt all the words that I couldn’t say. They never needed to be spoken. My hands spoke for me once I swung them hard enough.

I was timid still, but I had my anger. When the wind began to sing and my hollow head awakened. I fought back. I swung violently and without remorse. I never hurt those two girls who hated themselves than me. I was just a target of their low self-esteem. I never knew their names I hardly remember their faces.

It was two-thirty pm and I was ready to go home.  This kid, his name is completely gone in my mind so we’ll call him Johnny, Johnny insulted my mother, and I was sensitive about the subject still even though it had been years since she had been gone but the pain of the loss was still ever present in my heart.  I felt words rushing up my throat “I will kill you!” I screamed at an octave high enough that it felt like I shattered the glass around us. I felt my body rushing forward and my fist pressed against his nose. I felt so many emotions as I repeatedly smashed my shaking knuckles into his face. There were tears coming from my eyes and anger rushing from my mouth. I didn’t let him breathe, I didn’t let him retaliate. I just wanted to destroy something for all of the months that everyone destroyed my confidence and character.

            It got worse as the years progressed I became a part of this gang of tattered street smart soldiers who were addicted to medical herbs and prescription highs. I was eighteen years old. High school was the last priority on my mind. I just wanted to feel the rush of being a sedated, angry and misunderstood youth. Yet it wasn’t much of a rush once all of the sedation wore off and my fists were clenched I wanted more, I wanted my world to be just as slow as my bodily functions, this world was my everything.

The Gang’s All Here

 Vulgar words were volleyed around a few times between my crew and a group of kids who were unaware of the things that were to come. The things that came next I hardly remember my head was stuck in a haze, my mouth dry. I felt anger and power in these elevated off of the ground, there were clenched fist and burned tobacco. The scent of teenage anger infused with various drugs and toxins was the only thing that we inhaled for months on end.  I awoke many mornings for school just waiting to get high before I suffered on the way to school. School was never exciting or really anything to look forward to. I was mocked and taunted majority of my grade school career so I lost the will to learn. I always felt like I was surrounded by pointed fingers and judgmental eyes.

Sophomore year of high school I reconnected, with someone from my past: Steven

Steven was the muscle behind the gang we were going to create. I was to be the brain for my intelligence and my wisdom that I offered, I still got my hands dirty, and I still bloodied the pavement with my anger. We gathered a rough group of neighborhood goons and we all got to know each other and our struggles, I never spoke much, they understood my silence. I never knew that those cutthroats would be my second family, that they would become my support system as I floated through my existence and education.

It all started the beginning of the summer after freshmen year, Steven had always ridden my bus, I’d always glance his way because he was the rowdiest kid on the bus, and he reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago. He finally caught me looking his way that day and asked me who I was. I said “I’m Derwin” he tapped his head and he remembered that we went to the same elementary school; I used to beat up his cousin DeMarco all the time back then.  I remembered that Steven broke my first watch I got as a kid.

            I loved that watch; my mother gave it to me.

Back to the gang; Tenth grade year, Steven and I. we became close knit I understood his anger and he understood my lack of friends and the fact that I had the same problems as he did. We started just us two then James and Zack came along, we went to the same middle school together and lived in the same neighborhood. After we all became reacquainted. We became brothers; we stole together, partied together, and kept each other focused. 

           

 

The Women

My life has revolved around my unprofessional study of women, the way they seek men, their romantic needs, their deepest secrets and who they believe they are. I’ve watched many women fall prey to men who hunted them down and brought them to their backs. I’ve absorbed my fair share of heartbroken tears.  Women have been a major part of my development and who I have become. There are so many women I’ve lusted, loved, and just wanted. I never dated some and still had my heart broken by their rejections and their dislike of who I am.

I know what women want, and how to treat them as a gentlemen but I’ve never allowed myself to be completely vulnerable with women. That’s what drives them away. When they leave that’s when my vulnerability shows and they pity me and either stay or leave. I’m afraid to be left alone, ever since my brother left home, and my mother passed away. I’m afraid to be alone.

But alone is where I belong, but I always find myself  seeking the comfort of a woman’s tender lips and soft skin and the scent of their hair as I lay my head on their chest.  I don’t know what to make of what I want when I come to women so I’m always floating in and out of their lives leaving pieces of myself where ever they allow.

 

      Brianna Cooke.

Brianna was a petite girl with glistening cocoa butter scented hair and a complexion of caramel that had been caressed by a sweet spoon. All of this was often noticed by all the other boys in my school that all had her eyes on her as I did. I’d force teardrops down my chubby cheek to create a friendship with her. I was so petty and indecent to her. I begged for her hand in friendship because the concept of being in a relationship at six years old was ever so foreign to us.

As I stared at the linoleum floor of the classroom I tried to look at her blurred reflection in the ground so I wouldn’t be caught with wandering eyes and looked at with disgust. When recess came around I finally had my chance to make memories with her in the sand and woodchip covered playground, or write her an immature sonnet with her favorite colored chalk on the blacktop where all the kids feet stomped and knees scrapped and teeth were grit. I wanted to make something beautiful for her on place where beauty was ignored.

            Brianna never noticed my hopeless romanticism. She was too busy falling over this one kid at naptime. He was one of the cool kids, the typical cliché cool kid: fast-talking, good-looking. He always slept in the beanbag chair that the teacher kept in the corner instead of using his own blanket. One particular day Brianna was next to him. Her body juxtaposed next to his my eyes didn’t blink I was enticed by their affair during naptime. I was trapped in that moment. I think this was the moment that I realized that maybe she wasn’t all that great that maybe I should give up on her. That boy, that tool, that macho would-be big kid on campus he kissed her. Their lips intertwined and in that moment I felt a piece of me getting sucked down a garbage disposal and shredded apart. He made the only move that I was completely embarrassed to do. He felt the warmth of her lips and how soft her skin felt. I only knew of that pleasure in my head. My heart was broken for the first time. As the ending of naptime came closer and closer, I tried to plot my way into Brianna’s heart. Since I had studied the companions she had made throughout the day, I decided to use them to forcibly persuade her to be my friend. Maybe I could take it from there. As we were putting our blankets and pillow in the cubbies that smelt of paste and melted crayons: I approached one of Brianna’s close friends: Breanne Robinson, she was a taller girl with braided hair and plump lips. I tapped her shoulder lightly with my fingertips to get her attention. She turned to me, as she did one of her braids whipped around and planted right between my eyes. I let out a tremendous yell of anguish, as she tried to counsel me she asked, “I’m sorry Derwin, what’s up?”, whilst lifting her braid from my face,” I was just wondering, could you make Brianna be my friend? She hasn’t been talking to me and I want to be her friend.” I pleaded. My beggar’s way was a success by the next day at recess Brianna was my friend. I knew it was all empty. We were kids how was I supposed to know any better? How was I supposed to know that forcing the friendship of another would just be hollow and nothing true, I would learn these things later in life.

 Too young to comprehend what these emotions were.  I didn’t understand that there would be darker times, I didn’t understand that even though my heart felt as if stones were weighing it down: I could endure.

            After my emotions with Brianna had faded I began to realize that

Irene Gomes

       Five years of her, five years we’ve spent entangled in each other’s hearts and lives. I first saw you when I was a scummy tenth grade burn-out and you were this innocent beautiful woman to me. I admired you from afar and then we became something more. I’ve been through hell and back torturing myself trying to be by your side. How could you not notice things by the way I showed my love to you? How could you ever not know? I was so afraid to lose her, to lose my love, to lose my better half, I pushed her away countless times, she broke me countless times, and we fell apart and ran back to one another.  I chased after her heart and she ran into the arms of men who never treated her like the woman she was. I got to watch the woman you became today; I got to watch you slip away. I got to watch you leave. You’re the only one I ever let back.

 

            This petite beauty, bronze skin, a sly smile, her waist was as small but her back poked out slightly, her voice and hair that flowed in the corridors of a high school that was filled with cliché groups of would-be friends. The eyes that glanced upon your beautiful face, you glanced back with spite in your heart because you know they were just chasing after your skirt tails. When you saw you me, you hardly noticed my overbearing presence.  I noticed you. I NOTICED YOU.

But when I saw you, when I saw you, my heart stuttered my palms got sweaty. I was taken by just your appearance. I was desperate to get to know who you were. It took me months to get inside of your heart.  You initially thought I was just after the pleasure that centers between your thighs, but how could want just that? That climatic momentary bliss and nothing after, I didn’t want that. You were the first woman besides my grandmother whose arms I wanted to crawl into and just feel you. Only off a first glance, I heard your name as someone said it in passing “Hey Irene.”, you responded and when you opened your mouth. My world stopped, the people walking in past me blurred out you were the only one in focus. I watched those plush lips curve and then the sound of a sweet and tender voice dance on my ear drums. From that moment forth I was latched onto the thought of you. My thoughts were strung together by images of your smile in my head.

 A few weeks passed and we finally got passed the awkward “hello”, more so awkward because every time I got close to you my stomach turned to knots and my words became thin air between my closed lips. My brain shut down around you. I never thought you’d even respond to my greetings. I opened your mouth and it sounded like the sweetest symphony.

            There are things we said, things we did that I’d rather not speak on at times but I have no regrets about us. It was never sad to me that I loved you even when you crushed my heart between your fingertips. It was never sad; it was just my way of proving that I thought I deserved you. Remember when I told you I thought I was in love with you? I do and I regret it every day of my life, I’ve never been as intoxicated with one single person as I have been with you. I’m slowly allowing myself to be destroyed by the hopes that maybe one day you’ll run into my arms and kiss me and say, “I’ve always loved you just as much as you did me”, these are just hallucinations that happen when my eyes are dried out and my brain hasn’t rested. The hallucinations happen often since I hardly sleep anymore. I’m surprised you’ve stuck around. I’m surprised I’m still able to love you. I’m afraid I’ll forever lose you. You started talking to one of the people that I knew, and as soon as I saw that there was an attraction I knew you were going to be taken away from my heart and my eyes. , nine months and I still hate everything that you have with him. When it all first happened you tried everything to tell me that it wasn’t going to change, that’d you’d spend time with me, that you’d still love me and answer me whenever I called. You promised me so many things, you wore the shirt I got you for Christmas one year to try and cheer me up. It made me feel special for a moment.

I told you to stop promising me things; I knew things wouldn’t be as you told them.  You started to drift away from me, I stopped speaking, I stopped smiling, and I stopped trying to pull you back. I let you fall from my hands. The honest truth is, is that I never let you fall. I just watched you fall faster and harder for someone that I knew.

Eventually I just let you fall so you could forget me, so you could hate me for not being happy for you, so you could have all the room in your heart for him. I watched as your relationship began to develop more and more and the foundation of ours still was left unstable. I began to feel like an abandoned experiment. I knew everything about you. You couldn’t even remember my middle name, my birthday.  I felt stupid. I felt like a puppet dancing on your strings. My mind was weak and I was victim to insults about you that were spewed out by friends.

            Now you’ve been with this guy for a while I haven’t seen your face in a year or more, I barely speak to you. Your life is going swimmingly, without me in the bigger picture. I used to dream of you, I still do. In the grand view of it all we crashed into each other at a bad time in our lives. I sometimes imagine if I met you at a better time maybe we’d fall in love, maybe things would be as I wished. Then I feel as if I’d somehow ruin our love.  I offered you everything you ever wanted in a man, the affection, the attention, the honesty. It was never enough, I wasn’t enough. You wanted to date someone who was handsome and had veins that popped from their skin vividly. You didn’t want me. You never did.  I always wanted you. Nothing was ever how I wanted it to be. I played coy and sly so my emotions didn’t show and your pursuit of finding happiness in the arms of another man would succeed.  I was never happy for you, because I know that all of the promises you ever made me would be thrown to the ground and I’d be the only one trying to piece together the broken pieces that you and I’d become.

Remember when I beseeched you to talk to me, but you were too busy holding conversations with everyone but me. You told me you loved me, you told me that you’d always answer my calls but why’d I have to beg for your attention? Why was I the only one who had to suffer the lack of communication? 

I gave in, I just left you alone. I knew you’d come to me about your newfound relationship about the things that made you insecure and worried. I was reminded of my place when I finally realized that; you would never love me.

You gave your entire being to him. You broke all the rules for this one man, yet you never broke a single one for me. You never cried over me, you never felt alone because of me. I was playing a continuously losing game; all of my peers told me to stop this pursuit of you. Their words never fazed me because they never knew that I was actually just a delusional sad cretin who just wanted what he wanted.  You never dreamed of a future with me, you told me that you don’t even know what your future will be.

You’re the pilot of your own flights, you had your destinations already planned out, and none of the stops you were going to make involved me. Your plane would be filled with beautiful lovers, and a family that you’d start soon after.  I never saw myself on that flight with you, I was still on the ground watching you take off and fly with a strong heart in your chest. I was always right where you left me, I wouldn’t leave forever I’d leave pieces of myself just in case you ever needed to find me. I hope you won’t ever need me. You don’t need anyone. Not even me. You broke my heart more than any single being has.  You rejected my love, you trampled my heart, and you abandoned me.

I’ll never forgive you…I’ll always forgive you.

I’ll never trust you or believe in you again. You’ve crushed my heart and I’ve allowed my thoughts to be driven by you.  It all ended when you broke promises.

These words are my thank you, to you and everyone for putting up with my and for staying even when you shouldn’t.   There won’t be any vows or promises that you and I will ever share, your heart was never mine, your mind was never filled with thoughts of me, thoughts of we, and it was all of you and someone else. I dawdled too long and let myself think that I had a chance, or that I was ever significant.  I’ve grown into a shell and I’ve hidden from you.  I’ve had enough of our childish pursuit. I’ve accepted that maybe one day we will have our love to be complete but for now I still feel alone.

All the time you spent ignoring me and rejecting my heart, were the times where I felt the worst. You aren’t to blame it is my own fault.

I will never be with you when I want, you will be someone else’s but I’ll always be yours.

 

           

            There was a time where I had Taylor, and you said you felt like I left you, I never admitted to you how good that made you feel, that maybe you cared that I was gone and not giving you the attention. I missed you at that era in my life. You still meant a lot to me, but I thought Taylor could change my world.

            Instead she just abandoned it after I served my purpose

 

 

 

Taylor Brown

I was so positive; you were going to change my world that you were going to give me all the love and pleasure that I had been lacking my entire life. Truthfully I knew we were never going to last. We gravitated to one another because we were broken. You wanted to be loved, I wanted to give love to someone who wanted it, you kept your demons around and you tried to control things in life that were out of your power. You created a place in your heart for there to be an “us” but us never lasted; we were just a phase for us both. You didn’t know what love meant, you just wanted me to fill a void that had just become deeper when you lost the only man that was close to you, your grandfather, and he meant the world to you. I stood by you when you cried almost every night and you needed someone. You were foolish, controlling, but I felt like we somehow fit together. At the end things were violent and it all fell to a bitter hatred. I missed your face at times, and the way you playfully pressed your lips to mine and made me feel as if you truly wanted me, but it was all just empty affection to distract you from your misery. I was just another pawn for you to push over and eliminate from the game. You didn’t believe what we had was true, I doubted it from the start but I was just ignoring the truth. That I was just using you as much as you were using me. We were just two ruined people trying to piece another together. How sad we were together, to believe that we belonged to one another.

For the longest time I believed I was in love with you. You were everything I needed you made me laugh, you filled empty spaces between my heart and I gave you the love you gave me new outlooks on things. You never wanted me to treat you like any other woman; you wanted me to act like I never needed you, to never smother you, to hardly pay attention to you. You wanted to be left alone but wanted love and affection at the same time so you always kept people around who offered you their time and compassion. You hurt me time after time and I allowed it because I just wanted you. I robbed myself of my own mental health, but you robbed me of my heart.

You told me that you left Keith, which meant he wasn’t going to be around anymore. He hit you and threw blows that you hardly returned; you gave your years of youth to him. He gave you love and misery. When you met me, we fell for each other instantly. I once believed that I’d be with you until I died sooner or later. I never thought that we’d end the way we did.

You ran from my arms when I offered you a better world, you told me that you were frightened and not ready for the things that I offered. You ran back into the arms of a man who you had beaten you blue and black, called you out of your name, and hardly ever made you feel like the woman you are.

You ran from my arms, the weeks before I was going to take you to prom. The majestic evening where memories are made unforgettable and we finally rid ourselves of high school guises. I never knew how to dance, but prom night you danced with the devil in two left shoes.

I was filled with tremendous anger; you never gave me clarity that you left until a month after. Until I saw the photos of you and him together again, I called on my brothers, my family of friends, and they comforted me; I gave you my full attention and love, I never really got the opportunity to tell you thank you. I’m not bitter anymore. I learned a lot from our relationship. I admit I still get jealous when I see you talking to other men still because I guess I still hold pieces of you with me. I can say the same for you; you still have my baby picture in your wallet.

You’ll forever be my first love, even when that title belongs to another person when it comes to you. I’ve wanted to taste your lips again, I wanted to soak your pride with my heart and moisten your thighs with my tongue. I wanted to wrap my fingers around your hair and press my ear to your chest, because for a moment, I felt content in your heart beats. I shared moments with someone as demented and lost as I was. I never felt more at home with you.  Missing you is a demon I’ve dealt with; wanting you is just my heart beginning to wonder.

You’ll always be my beautiful sunflower, with skin as pale as snow and hair that was as soft as your skin. Your moles gave your face adorable features. I doted on your face, your hips and your entire person.

I wanted to be with you until we grew grey and our voices were weak. I saw you in my future.

I’m sure at a better time, and space. We will find one another again. I’ve figured you out, your game, your aim in life. You just want to feel temporary pleasure and attention from all those around you so you can just push them away. I offered you a future with me. A place in my heart and you ran. You will always choose the person who hurt you more because you find pleasure in all of the pain and anguish. I always sheathed my blade before I cut you with words; I never wanted to be compared to your past.

In some part of my heart, I hope to see you in the future. I hope to take your hand and tell you you’re beautiful and that you’re going to change the world in some way, and that I’d like to watch you mature more and more.

But you’re just as stagnant as I am. You’re probably even more lost than I am. You’re the only who understands that I’m actually crazy, that I’ve lost my mind and that I lost my sanity such a long time ago.

I figured you out and we will constantly dance in and out of one another’s lives because you’re just as lonely as I am and you love attention and I love to feel needed.

 

 

Brittany Ford

An aggressive woman with hair that was as wild as her. Her lips were plump and full just as much as her cheeks were; we stumbled across one another through ideas exchanged on social media. I was so intrigued by her strong worded short rants about how people of color weren’t respecting themselves. She grew on me, and I grew on her. We became close knit and I found her beautiful and strong. She was more powerful with her words than I believed. She would grab my heart and raise it higher so I wouldn’t feel alone. I never thought that I’d find myself loving a woman that was so far away but felt like she belonged in my world. I wanted her; Brittany was the closest thing to my heart for a long while. We spoke every night for hours without an end it felt like, she sang and I just listened and enjoyed. We’d talk about our dreams, and our families she taught me things about the world that I hadn’t yet learned. I wanted to see her, and to spend days with her just talking about the things and sharing our knowledge. I loved her; she was educated and openly opinionated. She wasn’t afraid to show her frustrations on subjects.

I found myself jealous of her boyfriends and men she spoke to, I was just afraid again. Afraid to lose a special woman I’m always so afraid.

One day Brittany became cold, and standoffish. She lost herself and was confused on her path on life, she was tired of her home life, and she was frustrated with her life in all aspects I tried to offer my assistance thinking I could make a change. But I was told that I didn’t understand and to just let her be for a while. I felt as if I was going to never hear from her again.

She apologized to me and just said she needed to find herself again.

Brittany never liked my disdain for religion, or my weak taste in women of color. She was so proud of her race, her culture; she still loved me for who I was as a whole. She told me I had a big heart, that I had a great mind and that my opinion mattered. Brittany was important to me, to say the least.

Brittany was the angel that taught me how to be compassionate again. We met each other at the right time and I don’t regret our friendship. Thank you for all you have offered me.

 

 

There are so many other women that I’ve encountered, I don’t want to seem like I’m such a victim, I’ve hurt women and lied my share of times. I lost my identity for a long time and I pretended to love when I never intended to give my heart away. I’ve led three or four lives and all of them have just been me attempting to find out what I really want. I’m deeply sorry to the women I’ve ever hurt.

 

 

Identity

For

A

Moment

My heart refused to pump

This useless blood through my body

I imploded and all the sadness and greed and addiction were washed away.

Everything I was: was adrift in the vast emptiness of the space between my thoughts.

Then this explosion of memories and

We have the best things in life on this planet that we are constantly filling with horrors unimaginable just a few years ago.

It just doesn’t matter to anyone that everything in the universe is amazing but, not a single soul is happy. Gold could rain from the sky and every man woman and child would still be just as empty as they are this very second.

I once thought that the person I was, who I am. Were this collection of memoires and a representation of the people I had touched in life, maybe I was wrong.

I’m not sure who I am though. I don’t feel like a human.

Regurgitated words I keep repeating them.

I’ve been hoping to throw my soul into a bottle of whiskey.

The smile that we all have plastered on I’m tired of looking at them.

We all look the same on the inside but we just can’t seem to identify it because of all of these caked on layers of utter Bullshit.

This entire so called book, is my excuse for me to complain. My tragic life is my masterpiece.

I’ve found myself thinking about dying, we’ve never been scared to die. Everyone has a problem living and fulfilling their dreams.

We trap ourselves in rooms, when life is an entire new world for us to live. Just break through your walls and explore.

I haven’t escaped my head yet. But I still see the universe from the places and spaces that I’ve occupied in my dreams.

There were these vivid picturesque

 

NOW

All of these words and a few heartfelt one liner sentences that imitate my life as it were and as it is now.

Now I’ve built a family. I’ve built something I’ve never felt I had at times.

How can truly call them a family when I haven’t told them a third of what actually plays through my mind or the past things that I keep hidden?  My family is unaware of who I am at the core of it all. Past the smiles and the moments of silence; I am just another broken plate on the floor that everyone walks over because they are afraid to cut their hands upon the shards. Even if someone does clean me up, I’ll just break again. I’ve been chasing myself a lot recently; I’ve learned that I’m just trying to get back to the being a kid again. I’ve been just trying to force keys into broken locks. All of these locked memories that I’ve been chasing after hoping to find some piece of me that maybe I left behind. Maybe if I turned the keys hard enough I’d break the lock and I’d just rush into it and open up a Pandora’s box of my own making that I hid from myself because I wasn’t prepared for happiness yet.

 

Summer ‘14

Summer is barreling down upon us. Within two months, I’ve left my handprints all over the murder scene of romances that weren’t even my own.   I always felt the need to somehow help everyone else find the love they’d been searching for; because I never got mine. The love I wanted it was fleet of foot, quick to run away from the things I offered. My heart was shattered a multitude of times but I was told to just stay. To stay hopeful for love, for the future, hopeful that I’d have you one day no matter how much I grit my teeth and push you back, I still love you, I always loved you, and I will forever and always love you. I never admitted how much I hated seeing you happy, because it was all not my doing, I wasn’t the one who got to hold you and talk to you with affectionate poems every day, I was the one who you came to whenever your heart was hurt and your love was ignored. I’ve always been the fallback guy.

Every fall back guy falls for the woman that he supports, because he gets to know and love every ignored crack and tear in that woman’s heart and every unsatisfied desire. I spent my time trying to create a love that everyone wanted. But I just ruined everyone’s love. I knew I had ruined everything when people started to ignore me. When I was left alone and no one was there for me when I was busy contemplating suicide and wondering if I should’ve died.

There was Conner and Kathy; they were entangled in each other long before I left my filthy fingerprints upon their new blooming love. They were the best of friends, two peas in a pod. In High school they always were seen together, I knew Conner then, but we never talked about his romantic pursuits in high school those conversations came about with the form of the brotherhood. Kathy is this woman with a short stature and an aggressive mentality and an honest heart. She loves to laugh and she was into the Gorillaz; they are her favorite band. She loves to dye her hair and she wasn’t very religious but Conner was a man of devote faith.

Conner had this eruption of raw emotion in his chest and the only thing that came out was his affection toward Kathy, she ran away from it and him. This was her nature, and it eternally scarred Conner’s heart. It always hurts more when you open yourself up expecting to have the other person’s heart as open as your own, but your left feeling cold and naked abandoned with your arms open hoping for something but all you’ve truly got is just that empty sensation in the bottom of your stomach.

I understand how Conner felt, that feeling was the worst thing to ever feel for anyone. When the person you care for simply leaves. Conner patiently waited for her return for seven years.

She reappeared, through a friend of a friend, and they found one another again. Yet there was another awkward waltz through words that they barely wanted to confess. Their hearts were both battered and bruised from things that transpired while they were away from one another’s company.

This summer was the summer where Tony lost his compassion all over again. Tony was like my long lost relative. He wanted to save people who were just as lost as he was. He had that kindness that was just as deep as my own. Even when he felt empty and gave everything and got nothing in return he still put everyone first. We had a similar history. We both grew apart from the lives we once led but still held ties there.  In the summer: August to be exact, I spent June and July trying to figure out if me living was worth it, if my testaments to being alright would continue to hold true. I felt more lost than normal, I felt abandoned in the devils womb and no one wanted to help give birth to a new me, how could I ever expect anyone to love me or help me when I can’t ever help myself? Tony felt the way I did; he wanted to get his childhood friend: Tommy back to his happiness.  I won’t talk about the attempts that I made that night, there is no reason to. No one needs to know.

Before this transpired, Irene’s lover told her that he was jealous of me. I have nothing that anyone could want, I don’t have a bright future, or mindsets that will be give me the things that everyone has. I have nothing but ideas that are shot down by my own insecurities and even more so by my families lack of passion to believe in a man who already gave up on himself. How can you be jealous of what I have? A heart full of hate, he got the woman that I once thought was the woman of my dreams. He has her full attention and presence. She made me promises and broke them and hardly kept her word now.  I stopped caring if she ever saw me. I didn’t care if anyone saw me during the summer.

This summer I was afraid I lost her, she ignored me for weeks on end, and she never saw me unless we were getting hammered and watching Conner throw up. Even so, she never spent time alone with me, it’s like she was afraid of me.

She promises to see me and sit and talk with me but, her words are filled with empty promises. Just as they always have been. I never wanted to come between her love life so I never allowed her to be focused on me or my thoughts. I left her be so she could attempt her hand at love with the man she believes is her future.  I grew weary of the way he treated her and claimed to be jealous of me and blamed me for his problems with her. I offered to leave and she told me to stay. I sent him text messages about how I felt but all he did was ignore me. I never meant harm I just wanted her to be happy as I always wanted.

The only thing I wanted this summer was to fade away. I didn’t care to really be anywhere anymore.  I kept hearing the words that I needed to hear. The words that reassured me that I wasn’t worth anything; my grandmother told me one morning “you need to stop dreaming because you should already know you won’t amount to much of anything, that’s a Capricorn for you, always dreaming ideas but isn’t worth a damn thing.”  That was a big enough message to tell me that everyone was right, everyone who taunted me. Was correct, I am not useful for anything other than a few kind words and a helping hand when you’re down.

 

 

 

So many more events transpired during this summer.  I don’t care to reminisce on the entire summer, I hate summer, I hate the way she smells, I hate the heat that she brings and the anger that she caused. Summer has been a devilish vixen and all she’s done is tempt me into harmful mannerisms and self-destruction. I hate summer, I hate the way everyone’s heart is in the wrong place and they just want a quick fix for the pains of the year so far.  I only wanted to hang out with my friends in hopes to get wasted.

I want winter back; I want the bitter winds and the empty streets of winter. Winter loved me, winter made me feel more human.

I don’t want to write anymore, I won’t become an author, I’m not talented.

Maybe my affair with words wasn’t meant to last.

 

 

 

 

Extra Conversations with myself until i can figure out what the fuck I really want to do.

There’s always a train, a train that runs every night. It crashes into my train of thought. My thoughts are crushed underneath the wreckage of this train wreck. All it took was this late night’s train horn to blare to ruin my train of thought as it went barreling down the railway that has been constructed atop my brain. Took years to construct this way of thinking and this railway that supports all my thoughts, but it takes so little to derail and destroy things. That I’ve imagined.

I never wanted to move here, where the trains roam and the people are just as quiet as I am. Grandmother insisted that we needed to leave the old neighborhood, I didn’t want to but I needed to. There was too much history there. Too much violence and heartache that remained there, grandmother just wanted to be secure in her old age. I just wanted to be okay.

But to be honest I’ve always been okay, I’ve felt the things that any being can feel. I’ve ached; I’ve created new lives for myself at the old place. It was best to leave the seven years there and never take things with me.

But the trains here, I hate them but I love having their company at night. I’ve grown accustomed to the sensation of my body being exhausted and my mind over working itself into oblivion.

 

I’ve never loved the words that I’ve written, as I grew. My words started lacking imaginative phrases and imagery. They became just raw emotionally written pieces. I’ve always wanted to paint my words. I never wanted it to be this bland and dull. I wanted to create visions in the eyes of all readers, so when they shut their eyes for a moment they would see the superb painting that I left before them right behind their eye lids as they read my poorly put together words

I never really liked talking about myself, I guess it’s because after dealing with me, my entire life. I’m just tired of myself, the constant denials and lies I spew to myself. My lack of real enthusiasm, I blame a lot of my problems during my upbringing on how I coped with my mother’s death.

It’s such a vivid image that’s still in my head; it’s been over a decade. No one ever gets over losing their mother as a kid.  It’s just really difficult to sit and talk about my life because I have no life that I really lived, I never had a childhood, I spent it in mourning and receiving pity stares from family members who only came around to watch the family that was crumbling crumble more. I felt like a dying gorilla and all of the people just stared and whispered sly rumors from their lips. All I could do was pretend to accept the things they said. Yet I knew I killed her: I killed my mother. It all sounds so grim when you repeat the sentence over and over. The repetition of any phrase slowly begins to destroy your sanity. I repeated it so many times in my head I destroyed my childhood. I never thought my only mother would be gone before she saw me graduate from elementary school, before I got my first kiss.

            But I knew I killed her, I knew I stressed her; I led her to the suffering that ended her. I never got the opportunity to thank you. When you passed away, it gave me the pain to write and the chances to grow up in a way that few people do. I learned truths from a young age.

            I really just wanted to say that it’s hard to appreciate the things that you’ve given me even when you’re gone; because I haven’t ever really appreciated myself.  I never learned to love who I am. I’ve simply been dealing with the changes and adjustments.

I chase after false prophecies that I make up in my head hoping that I’ll feel fulfillment in my life instead of a void.

I once believed that writing and telling people about my mishaps would give me a satisfactory joy. Yet all joy is temporary. I’ve been dealing with my demons because as of late even my demons have demons. And the summer is hardly from over.

 

This is just the beginning.

I want to write, about writing and the process it takes for me to create these elongated paragraphs that only describe a single emotion that I can’t seem to comprehend completely.  I’m ever so envious of all of my friends; they have talents and things in life that I’ve always wanted. They often time have these desire that I wish I had the same passion for. I’m often so listless and morose. I keep myself hidden with a quick fire wit and a sense of humor that hides my frown. The sarcastic demons that crawl on my tongue push people away so they’ll never get close enough to my heart to ever dig in and be settled.

 

 

I’m lost in a giant matrix inside of my head.  Isolate myself from everyone so no one can touch the empire I’ve built in my head. 

Every night I hope the sky falls down and the world gets ruined because this place is going to erupt in a violent uproar soon. Even someone as crazy as I am can see this. Don’t ever lose your mind stay as kind and honest as possible. All you will ever have at the end of every day is yourself and your thoughts be selective of who you let in. 

You never know who can end your world or help create a whole new one.

 

 

 

 

 

Sent From iPhone while walking home.

Writing

I’m staring in the face of a total psychological collapse. I think this book is stupid, I think I’m a self-absorbed, gross human being that somehow hasn’t killed himself yet. I was trying to figure out if I was angry or my heart was just lost in my head and I kept bouncing it back and forth IN my thoughts hoping it’d land back in my chest.

I think I’m just certain a place for me to create a darker path for myself because it feels right.

Recently There hasn’t been any euphoric momentary bliss there are no images in my head of the future. I can’t see myself holding a woman’s hand and telling her I want her for the rest of my life. Ive trapped my self in a box again. Like I did six years ago. There is no light here nor is there a melody for me to create something. I am in a corner, watching my demons mockingly call to me to reach for a door that isn’t there. How can I conquer the world when I can’t even conquer myself?

The mystery of my life, constantly asking myself how I’m still alive.

My family is slowly dying. My cousin tried to take her life. I wanted to show her the pain in my eyes and that her wrist didn’t need to bleed for the world to see it. That she could save herself and maybe her kids too if only she wasn’t so far gone and everyone wasn’t so afraid to talk to her

I choose to carry the weight of the people I encounter upon my shoulders. I want the world to tell me their heartache so I can save it, I Hope there are aliens out there, who visit me and tell me I’m destined to save the Galaxy. I’ve given up on saving myself. I hope God exist outside of my imagination.

I think my heart shattered again as it rattled through my mind. I feel like I lost people who mattered to me, there’s a woman who held pieces of my heart but I think i ruined that all in a matter of complex sentences that confuse my messages. I never got the steps right when it came down to telling you that I lost my mind. I digress onto topics about my obsession with the moon and stars in hopes your mind would venture to the places I never shared with anyone else. I created a void in your relationship. Now you create a void in me to repair it all, in the end you won’t need me and all of the things you’ve wanted will be there for you. You wish you never met me.

I wanted to hold someone’s hand and feel their warmth hoping it would bring me back to reality.

That’s a fantasy I’ve created while my demons laugh in my face.

I don’t think I grew up. I feel like a hopeless child whose still afraid to adventure outside.

I feel the hot breath of hell tingling up my spine as my back is pressed against the dark

To be honest I’ve just been pissed off at myself, and I’m just lost in this sea of emotions that I’ve yet to explore completely

Snippets from rough draft of book majority is incomplete or just ideas.

Writing

Violence

Middle school was all such an emotional thrill ride that I just suffered through. I was just another kid who was looking for himself and never understood myself. I got picked on by these two girls they would always bear their fangs at me whenever we crossed paths. I would cower into my shell because I never was able to grasp the words from within myself. I hid them all away because I was afraid to hurt others. I’d much rather just get hurt myself.

That all changed in seventh grade. Sixth grade was nothing of any importance. Seventh grade is when I finally broke the chains off my heart and the anger finally was useful for something other than self-hate. I clenched my fist and I felt all the words that I couldn’t say. They never needed to be spoken. My hands spoke for me once I swung them hard enough.

I was timid still, but I had my anger. When the wind began to sing and my hollow head awakened. I fought back. I swung violently and without remorse. I never hurt those two girls who hated themselves than me. I was just a target of their low self-esteem. I never knew their names I hardly remember their faces.

It was two-thirty pm and I was ready to go home.  This kid, his name is completely gone in my mind so we’ll call him Johnny, Johnny insulted my mother, and I was sensitive about the subject still even though it had been years since she had been gone but the pain of the loss was still ever present in my heart.  I felt words rushing up my throat “I will kill you!” I screamed at an octave high enough that it felt like I shattered the glass around us. I felt my body rushing forward and my fist pressed against his nose. I felt so many emotions as I repeatedly smashed my shaking knuckles into his face. There were tears coming from my eyes and anger rushing from my mouth. I didn’t let him breathe, I didn’t let him retaliate. I just wanted to destroy something for all of the months that everyone destroyed my confidence and character.

It got worse as the years progressed I became a part of this gang of tattered street smart soldiers who were addicted to medical herbs and prescription highs. I was eighteen years old. High school was the last priority on my mind. I just wanted to feel the rush of being a sedated, angry and misunderstood youth. Yet it wasn’t much of a rush once all of the sedation wore off and my fists were clenched I wanted more, I wanted my world to be just as slow as my bodily functions, this world was my everything.

The Gang’s All Here(incomplete)

Vulgar words were volleyed around a few times between my crew and a group of kids who were unaware of the things that were to come. The things that came next

The Women

My life has revolved around my unprofessional study of women, the way they seek men, their romantic needs, their deepest secrets and who they believe they are. I’ve watched many women fall prey to men who hunted them down and brought them to their backs. I’ve absorbed my fair share of heartbroken tears.  Women have been a major part of my development and who I have become. There are so many women I’ve lusted, loved, and just wanted. I never dated some and still had my heart broken by their rejections and their dislike of who I am.

I know what women want, and how to treat them as a gentlemen but I’ve never allowed myself to be completely vulnerable with women. That’s what drives them away. When they leave that’s when my vulnerability shows and they pity me and either stay or leave. I’m afraid to be left alone, ever since my brother left home, and my mother passed away. I’m afraid to be alone.

But alone is where I belong, but I always find myself  seeking the comfort of a woman’s tender lips and soft skin and the scent of their hair as I lay my head on their chest.  I don’t know what to make of what I want when I come to women so I’m always floating in and out of their lives leaving pieces of myself where ever they allow.

 

Brianna Cooke.

Brianna was a petite girl with glistening cocoa butter scented hair and a complexion of caramel that had been caressed by a sweet spoon. All of this was often noticed by all the other boys in my school that all had her eyes on her as I did. I’d force teardrops down my chubby cheek to create a friendship with her. I was so petty and indecent to her. I begged for her hand in friendship because the concept of being in a relationship at six years old was ever so foreign to us.

As I stared at the linoleum floor of the classroom I tried to look at her blurred reflection in the ground so I wouldn’t be caught with wandering eyes and looked at with disgust. When recess came around I finally had my chance to make memories with her in the sand and woodchip covered playground, or write her an immature sonnet with her favorite colored chalk on the blacktop where all the kids feet stomped and knees scrapped and teeth were grit. I wanted to make something beautiful for her on place where beauty was ignored.

Brianna never noticed my hopeless romanticism. She was too busy falling over this one kid at naptime. He was one of the cool kids, the typical cliché cool kid: fast-talking, good-looking. He always slept in the beanbag chair that the teacher kept in the corner instead of using his own blanket. One particular day Brianna was next to him. Her body juxtaposed next to his my eyes didn’t blink I was enticed by their affair during naptime. I was trapped in that moment. I think this was the moment that I realized that maybe she wasn’t all that great that maybe I should give up on her. That boy, that tool, that macho would-be big kid on campus he kissed her. Their lips intertwined and in that moment I felt a piece of me getting sucked down a garbage disposal and shredded apart. He made the only move that I was completely embarrassed to do. He felt the warmth of her lips and how soft her skin felt. I only knew of that pleasure in my head. My heart was broken for the first time. As the ending of naptime came closer and closer, I tried to plot my way into Brianna’s heart. Since I had studied the companions she had made throughout the day, I decided to use them to forcibly persuade her to be my friend. Maybe I could take it from there. As we were putting our blankets and pillow in the cubbies that smelt of paste and melted crayons: I approached one of Brianna’s close friends: Breanne Robinson, she was a taller girl with braided hair and plump lips. I tapped her shoulder lightly with my fingertips to get her attention. She turned to me, as she did one of her braids whipped around and planted right between my eyes. I let out a tremendous yell of anguish, as she tried to counsel me she asked, “I’m sorry Derwin, what’s up?”, whilst lifting her braid from my face,” I was just wondering, could you make Brianna be my friend? She hasn’t been talking to me and I want to be her friend.” I pleaded. My beggar’s way was a success by the next day at recess Brianna was my friend. I knew it was all empty. We were kids how was I supposed to know any better? How was I supposed to know that forcing the friendship of another would just be hollow and nothing true, I would learn these things later in life.

Too young to comprehend what these emotions were.  I didn’t understand that there would be darker times, I didn’t understand that even though my heart felt as if stones were weighing it down: I could endure.

After my emotions with Brianna had faded I began to realize that

 

 

ISG

Five years of her, five years we’ve spent entangled in each other’s hearts and lives. I first saw you when I was a scummy tenth grade burn-out and you were this innocent beautiful woman to me. I admired you from afar and then we became something more. I’ve been through hell and back torturing myself trying to be by your side. How could you not notice things by the way I showed my love to you? How could you ever not know? I was so afraid to lose her, to lose my love, to lose my better half, I pushed her away countless times, she broke me countless times, and we fell apart and ran back to one another.  I chased after her heart and she ran into the arms of men who never treated her like the woman she was. I got to watch the woman you became today; I got to watch you slip away. I got to watch you leave. You’re the only one I ever let back.

 

This petite beauty, bronze skin, a sly smile, her waist was as small but her back poked out slightly, her voice and hair that flowed in the corridors of a high school that was filled with cliché groups of would-be friends. The eyes that glanced upon your beautiful face, you glanced back with spite in your heart because you know they were just chasing after your skirt tails. When you saw you me, you hardly noticed my overbearing presence.  I noticed you. I NOTICED YOU.

But when I saw you, when I saw you, my heart stuttered my palms got sweaty. I was taken by just your appearance. I was desperate to get to know who you were. It took me months to get inside of your heart.  You initially thought I was just after the pleasure that centers between your thighs, but how could want just that? That climatic momentary bliss and nothing after, I didn’t want that. You were the first woman besides my grandmother whose arms I wanted to crawl into and just feel you. Only off a first glance, I heard your name as someone said it in passing “Hey ”, you responded and when you opened your mouth. My world stopped, the people walking in past me blurred out you were the only one in focus. I watched those plush lips curve and then the sound of a sweet and tender voice dance on my ear drums. From that moment forth I was latched onto the thought of you. My thoughts were strung together by images of your smile in my head.

A few weeks passed and we finally got passed the awkward “hello”, more so awkward because every time I got close to you my stomach turned to knots and my words became thin air between my closed lips. My brain shut down around you. I never thought you’d even respond to my greetings. I opened your mouth and it sounded like the sweetest symphony.

There are things we said, things we did that I’d rather not speak on at times but I have no regrets about us. It was never sad to me that I loved you even when you crushed my heart between your fingertips. It was never sad; it was just my way of proving that I thought I deserved you. Remember when I told you I thought I was in love with you? I do and I regret it every day of my life, I’ve never been as intoxicated with one single person as I have been with you. I’m slowly allowing myself to be destroyed by the hopes that maybe one day you’ll run into my arms and kiss me and say, “I’ve always loved you just as much as you did me”, these are just hallucinations that happen when my eyes are dried out and my brain hasn’t rested. The hallucinations happen often since I hardly sleep anymore. I’m surprised you’ve stuck around. I’m surprised I’m still able to love you. I’m afraid I’ll forever lose you. You started talking to one of the people that I knew, and as soon as I saw that there was an attraction I knew you were going to be taken away from my heart and my eyes. , nine months and I still hate everything that you have with him. When it all first happened you tried everything to tell me that it wasn’t going to change, that’d you’d spend time with me, that you’d still love me and answer me whenever I called. You promised me so many things, you wore the shirt I got you for Christmas one year to try and cheer me up. It made me feel special for a moment.

I told you to stop promising me things; I knew things wouldn’t be as you told them.  You started to drift away from me, I stopped speaking, I stopped smiling, and I stopped trying to pull you back. I let you fall from my hands. The honest truth is, is that I never let you fall. I just watched you fall faster and harder for someone that I knew.

Eventually I just let you fall so you could forget me, so you could hate me for not being happy for you, so you could have all the room in your heart for him. I watched as your relationship began to develop more and more and the foundation of ours still was left unstable. I began to feel like an abandoned experiment. I knew everything about you. You couldn’t even remember my middle name, my birthday.  I felt stupid. I felt like a puppet dancing on your strings. My mind was weak and I was victim to insults about you that were spewed out by friends.

Now you’ve been with this guy for a while I haven’t seen your face in a year or more, I barely speak to you. Your life is going swimmingly, without me in the bigger picture. I used to dream of you, I still do. In the grand view of it all we crashed into each other at a bad time in our lives. I sometimes imagine if I met you at a better time maybe we’d fall in love, maybe things would be as I wished. Then I feel as if I’d somehow ruin our love.  I offered you everything you ever wanted in a man, the affection, the attention, the honesty. It was never enough, I wasn’t enough. You wanted to date someone who was handsome and had veins that popped from their skin vividly. You didn’t want me. You never did.  I always wanted you. Nothing was ever how I wanted it to be. I played coy and sly so my emotions didn’t show and your pursuit of finding happiness in the arms of another man would succeed.

There was a time where I had Taylor, and you said you felt like I left you, I never admitted to you how good that made you feel, that maybe you cared that I was gone and not giving you the attention. I missed you at that era in my life. You still meant a lot to me, but I thought Taylor could change my world.

Instead she just abandoned it after I served my purpose

TYB

I was so positive; you were going to change my world that you were going to give me all the love and pleasure that I had been lacking my entire life. Truthfully I knew we were never going to last. We gravitated to one another because we were broken. You wanted to be loved, I wanted to give love to someone who wanted it, you kept your demons around and you tried to control things in life that were out of your power. You created a place in your heart for there to be an “us” but us never lasted; we were just a phase for us both. You didn’t know what love meant, you just wanted me to fill a void that had just become deeper when you lost the only man that was close to you, your grandfather, and he meant the world to you. I stood by you when you cried almost every night and you needed someone. You were foolish, controlling, but I felt like we somehow fit together. At the end things were violent and it all fell to a bitter hatred. I missed your face at times, and the way you playfully pressed your lips to mine and made me feel as if you truly wanted me, but it was all just empty affection to distract you from your misery. I was just another pawn for you to push over and eliminate from the game. You didn’t believe what we had was true, I doubted it from the start but I was just ignoring the truth. That I was just using you as much as you were using me. We were just two ruined people trying to piece another together. How sad we were together, to believe that we belonged to one another.

BDF

An aggressive woman with hair that was as wild as her. Her lips were plump and full just as much as her cheeks were; we stumbled across one another through ideas exchanged on social media. I was so intrigued by her strong worded short rants about how people of color weren’t respecting themselves. She grew on me, and I grew on her. We became close knit and I found her beautiful and strong. She was more powerful with her words than I believed. She would grab my heart and raise it higher so I wouldn’t feel alone. I never thought that I’d find myself loving a woman that was so far away but felt like she belonged in my world. I wanted her;  she was the closest thing to my heart for a long while. We spoke every night for hours without an end it felt like, she sang and I just listened and enjoyed. We’d talk about our dreams, and our families she taught me things about the world that I hadn’t yet learned. I wanted to see her, and to spend days with her just talking about the things and sharing our knowledge. I loved her; she was educated and openly opinionated. She wasn’t afraid to show her frustrations on subjects.

I found myself jealous of her boyfriends and men she spoke to, I was just afraid again. Afraid to lose a special woman I’m always so afraid.

One day BDF became cold, and standoffish. She lost herself and was confused on her path on life, she was tired of her home life, and she was frustrated with her life in all aspects I tried to offer my assistance thinking I could make a change. But I was told that I didn’t understand and to just let her be for a while. I felt as if I was going to never hear from her again.

She apologized to me and just said she needed to find herself again.

 

NOW

All of these words and a few heartfelt one liner sentences that imitate my life as it were and as it is now.

I’ve just been trying to write this glorious story about how I became who I am; I’m just another person without a single clue about what is really going on. I’ve been through and seen my own personal hell. I’ve burned my heart on the fires of rejection, I’ve cut my tongue with poison knives, I’ve thrown myself into oceans of sorrow.

Right now, I’ve built a family. I’ve built something I’ve never felt I had at times.

How can truly call them a family when I haven’t told them a third of what actually plays through my mind or the past things that I keep hidden?  My family is unaware of who I am at the core of it all. Past the smiles and the moments of silence; I am just another broken plate on the floor that everyone walks over because they are afraid to cut their hands upon the shards. Even if someone does clean me up, I’ll just break again. I’ve been chasing myself a lot recently; I’ve learned that I’m just trying to get back to the being a kid again. I’ve been just trying to force keys into broken locks. All of these locked memories that I’ve been chasing after hoping to find some piece of me that maybe I left behind. Maybe if I turned the keys hard enough I’d break the lock and I’d just rush into it and open up a Pandora’s box of my own making that I hid from myself because I wasn’t prepared for happiness yet.

 

Summer ‘14

      Summer is barreling down upon us. Within two months, I’ve left my handprints all over the murder scene of romances that weren’t even my own.   I always felt the need to somehow help everyone else find the love they’d been searching for; because I never got mine. The love I wanted it was fleet of foot, quick to run away from the things I offered. My heart was shattered a multitude of times but I was told to just stay. To stay hopeful for love, for the future, hopeful that I’d have you one day no matter how much I grit my teeth and push you back, I still love you, I always loved you, and I will forever and always love you. I never admitted how much I hated seeing you happy, because it was all not my doing, I wasn’t the one who got to hold you and talk to you with affectionate poems every day, I was the one who you came to whenever your heart was hurt and your love was ignored. I’ve always been the fallback guy.

Every fall back guy falls for the woman that he supports, because he gets to know and love every ignored crack and tear in that woman’s heart and every unsatisfied desire. I spent my time trying to create a love that everyone wanted. But I just ruined everyone’s love. I knew I had ruined everything when people started to ignore me. When I was left alone and no one was there for me when I was busy contemplating suicide and wondering if I should’ve died.

There was Conner and Kathy; they were entangled in each other long before I left my filthy fingerprints upon their new blooming love. They were the best of friends, two peas in a pod. In High school they always were seen together, I knew Conner then, but we never talked about his romantic pursuits in high school those conversations came about with the form of the brotherhood. Kathy is this woman with a short stature and an aggressive mentality and an honest heart. She loves to laugh and she was into the Gorillaz; they are her favorite band. She loves to dye her hair and she wasn’t very religious but Conner was a man of devote faith.

Conner had this eruption of raw emotion in his chest and the only thing that came out was his affection toward Kathy, she ran away from it and him. This was her nature, and it eternally scarred Conner’s heart. It always hurts more when you open yourself up expecting to have the other person’s heart as open as your own, but your left feeling cold and naked abandoned with your arms open hoping for something but all you’ve truly got is just that empty sensation in the bottom of your stomach.

I understand how Conner felt, that feeling was the worst thing to ever feel for anyone. When the person you care for simply leaves. Conner patiently waited for her return for seven years.

She reappeared, through a friend of a friend, and they found one another again.

 

 

 

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There’s always a train, a train that runs every night. It crashes into my train of thought. My thoughts are crushed underneath the wreckage of this train wreck. All it took was this late night’s train horn to blare to ruin my train of thought as it went barreling down the railway that has been constructed atop my brain. Took years to construct this way of thinking and this railway that supports all my thoughts, but it takes so little to derail and destroy things. That I’ve imagined.

I never wanted to move here, where the trains roam and the people are just as quiet as I am. Grandmother insisted that we needed to leave the old neighborhood, I didn’t want to but I needed to. There was too much history there. Too much violence and heartache that remained there, grandmother just wanted to be secure in her old age. I just wanted to be okay.

But to be honest I’ve always been okay, I’ve felt the things that any being can feel. I’ve ached, I’ve cried, I’ve changed countless times.

We went north, and left behind the sweat soaked boulevard where we formally resided.

I thought it’d be colder, I thought my mind wouldn’t run as much. I was thinking as a child instead of realistically.