Saturday, November 1, 2008

Where I Was

I've been rummaging through my old writings/journal entries/poems/etc. recently; in doing so, I was reminded of the past seven years of hopelessness... and how absolutely dramatic I was about it:
This is no thorn in my side; my bowels have been thrashed out, my lungs scarred with breathlessness... yet my heart, they did not break the beat.
My heart melts with grief and loneliness. My mind burns with fevered emotion and confusion. I feel as a wounded animal with naught but encompassing predators. Light, which should spawn hope, only seethes further fear of hunters. Am I to die? Will my wounds be healed and the predators’ drool held? Will the light be that of friendly eye or hungered mouth? Where is my shelter?
Father, lead my heart to comfort’s keep. My burdens make light that my melting body might be made strong. Soften my crumbling heart and in its softness give me the strength and means to love.
I can’t seem to want what’s right anymore. I can’t seem to want what’s wrong; I am trapped in a limbo-ed hell. I can’t take one step more; I am too weary. I fear my hardened heart has given up on all that I once believed to be true. No more hope. No more trust. No more faith. No more sorrow. No more shame. No more pressing forward when forward brings only pain. No more darkness. No more light. No more thoughts of revolution; the world’s a stagnant place. No more freedom. No more peace. No more fighting for things that will never be... no more me.
God, I pray for a reason for me. Otherwise, let my organs cease, let my breath run out, and let my soul fade away. I seek not ‘freedom’ nor ‘happiness’ but the damnation that is mine anyway.
Everything is silent. Even the noise is silent... hollow... empty. Everything I touch is silent. Insanity pervades around me. Do I drink it in and drown? Do I tread the stormy sea of sanity until drowning is the only choice? The further I swim, the more lives I touch, the more damage I do... even the clicking of this pen against the paper is hollow.
I am exhausted, and in such exhaustion the doorway to insanity grows more vivid. The world fades and slows around me. The air becomes an unbreathable void, lacking of anything save aspiration. If I walk, I walk too fast; if I stand still, the world flies away. I can naught but sit and stare and wonder why all I see is null. . . why all I am is a prince in a ‘world of void.'
No monthly payments;
Debt will always pile on. . .
I am naught but spent.
(Although applicable to my then financial situation; I was referring to love.)

My bitter-seared eyes
Spawn tears of chartreuse envy
And burn my stained cheeks
More conflicted hues
Bind the brightened dew of hope
To murky puddles
Thus nailed to my cross
Feel I no more God’s true Light
Only seething blood
One star’s touch to burn
Yet no star’s touch lights too cold
Sun’s death touch is want
To leave may seem free
To stay seem a lesser choice
Yet turn not can I
Mirrors reflect him
The man standing where I stand
And nobody else
Despite strong stance
The roots of this tree wain quick
As but a breeze blows
The lake an honest maid?
Her waters taste sweet save held
But held is “the way”
The Order of the Violet Rose
They, the Order of the Violet Rose,
They taste the light through darkened rows
They’re asked to understand
That though they know the love, they never touch
As touching taints the dew

They, the Order of the Violet Rose,
They know the sorrow noone knows
They’re asked to all-withstand
That though they feel the love, they never touch
As touching wilts anew

Few are they, and lone are they
They, in silence, stand
They, the Order of the Violet Rose,
Will ever know of pain
For they, in silence, lone, and few
Must hold the violet stain
Crumpled Paper
I live my life like a
Crumpled paper
Tumbleweed-ing in the wind
Crumbled idea
Wadded up and thrown aside

How I wish for
No more wastebins
No more fire
Robin Hood
Forlorn and long distraught
I stand with calloused knees
I stand with calloused heart
I look the winds before me fall
In shades of black and grey

The humbled heart ‘once bled
Now bleeds but numb and fades
I aimed to please
Now please to aim
No more the helpful man

Help is not what world seeks
But lies and thieves, their guilds
Noone would have an honest man
For if he befriend an honest man
He, honest, too, should be
Honesty, a heavy shawl,
Shall surely weigh him down

So join the guild, and turn your back
On honest hands out-held
But when you see my jaded eyes
In th’shadowed guilded halls,
Be warned:

The honest man I hold as friend
So steal I not from him,
But those whose hearts of greeded blood
Bleed “warmth” from guild-within

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