Veins of Rage.

Fire red rage,
Pours through our veins.
I wish that it didn't,
Have to be this way.

I love you both,
But all three are wrong.
Now we all must,
Sing this unsettling song.

I have a tendency,
To make blood hot.
Anger gripping,
those who feel shot.

Now I'm hoping,
That somehow,
I can fix what I broke.
That I can somehow mend...

The veins of rage,
Pulse pounding,
Heart stopping,
Fear conjuring...

Rage...

No Truer Words Ever Spoken...

I don't know what you see,
But I hope I'm everything,
That you claim me to be.
So I'll write everything...

I can't say when I'm awake,
I'm so sleepy now, you see.
I am so afraid that I will wake,
Just before, I make you see.

This is so like a dream,
What we have, you and me.
Sometimes I want to scream.
"If I wake, simply kill me..."

I don't ever want to wake from you,
You're the one I want.
The one I need.
My sweetest drug.

In half consciousness,
I've come to the realization.
All of my fears are slowly melting away.
So please, don't ever let me wake.

I won't survive if I do.
If I wake, without you...
I'm not sure life would ever seem...
Worth what it is to me now...

I don't know that I'll have that kind of strength.
To exist without you by my side.
You see, when I'm sleepy,
I say things I do mean,
but could never say when fully conscious.

You're my everything.
I want you and only you,
No one else could compare,
To how you make me feel.


Thank you...

Thoughts at Quarter to Five

As I sit here, on my little mountain of pillows in the corner of my room, I close my eyes as I simply let my fingers and mind type and speak as one. I don't stare at the screen. I sit, with my eyes closed. Heh, kinda bad when you can sit like this and completely type as if you were looking at the computer and checking yourself. Yawning I think of how I miss my one. I think of how my thoughts fill with her name, her face. Her compliments, and compassion. I find myself so incredibly thankful and lucky to have her, I don't know what I would be without her. A friend of mine said this is dangerous love, But I don't care. What's life without a few risks. I can't see myself without her, yet I do not let her consume me. My thoughts frequently drift back to her, as I imagine all that we can be. I haven't told my parents that I've fallen for a girl, I wonder what they will say. I just noticed, my custody papers that I just read for the first time a week and a half ago are still on my television. I wonder how my father is, if he's even alive. I wonder if he thinks of me, I wonder if he loved or ever truly wanted me. My grandmother says he loved me, but if he did, wouldn't he have sent me at least 1 birthday card over these last seventeen years? If he walked up to my front door, I don't know whether I would cry and invite him in, or slam the door in his face. I wonder, are my grandfathers happy. If there is an afterlife, are they watching me now? Do they pass judgement upon who I am and what I do? Are they proud? And how is my great grandmother. I was supposed to go see her this past saturday, that plan fell through when my father took ill. Thoughtless again... I notice, how empty my heart does feel. She is gone, has been for about an hour and a half. But I can still see her gorgeous face in my minds eye, like she's right there. I can feel her arms around me, the safety of them bringing me comfort for the first time in years. I laugh, remembering how protective she is, the other day, when she was so upset because of a small fight I got into with my dad. I love her *smile*. I think to my shot, today. I think to the library. I think of how I am quite tired and kind of wish I could sleep.

I think I will try and sleep... Soon....

Books, Masks and Mirrors...

My life isn't closed.
In fact, it's an open book.
I wear my heart on my sleeve,
Its inside of that little book.
Inside of the book,
There is a hole cut within.
Inside lies a glass orb.
Inside that, my heart.

Bare for all to see.
I wear masks no longer.
Masks hide the beauty within.
And even within me, some beauty resides.

I wear my heart on my sleeve,
I'm an open book.
When I look in the mirror, I'm happy...


Are you?

Tick Tock...

Tick Tock...
The clock continues,
Time resumes.
But only when you leave.

Waiting is hard,
I have to sit,
and watch you fight.
Argue, This, That...

Then you blame yourself,
When it truly was never your fault.
This pain I feel,
Wanting something...

Something I'm not sure I'll ever have.
But waiting for something makes everything,
In the end at least...
Worthwhile...

Tick Tock...
Time resumes,
But even when the clock runs..
Time seemes to simply drag on...

Cracked Reclusion

re⋅clu⋅sion
 [ri-kloo-zhuhn]

–noun
1.     the condition or life of a recluse.
2.     an act of shutting or the state of being shut up in seclusion.


Even the strong break...
Even those who seem happy all the time,
Eventually are brought down by their inner demons.
It is my time now.

The cracks are showing.
In my fragile psyche...
The cracks are growing,
Soon they will shatter.

I hate being seen,
All my flaws are exposed.
My heart is breaking,
Why can't I be in repose?

Reclusion seems to be,
My only answer.
My only sedative.
My only cure.

Sweep Me Off My Feet

Sitting here I marvel
At how easily I fell.
Fell really hard,
For you.

Yet as I fall,
It feels like flight.
It's amazing
How close the two are,
As you sweep me off my feet.

I twist and turn,
Drifting and Floating,
My heart is soaring
As it flies clear past Cloud Nine.

Irony

Funny how you look back on things
And almost wish they were different.
I wonder;
What could we have been?

Would we have flown and shined?
Or would we have crashed and burned?
I think I may have found my first regret...
Ironic, isn't it?

Me; who has never regretted a thing,
The one thing I finally regret;
is the one thing I said;
I'd never do.

That one thing,
I regret saying those words...
"I can't fucking do this anymore, R."
Ironic... Isn't it?


I'm sorry...

The Fear

The Fear is there,
Burning through my veins.
Like a raging wildfire,
It sears and scars my soul.

Right now
I can't be
Everything you want.
Though I try my hardest.

I try to open up,
More than I am able.
Everytime I make a little progress,
I sit there and regress.

Its an endless battle,
Between the small child,
And the "Strong Young Lady",
I've become.

The fire sears my heart,
It scars my soul,
That inner child.

That small little,
7 Year Old Me.
The hurt, scared, scarred,
Fragile young girl...

Still afraid is she,
She sits in a dark corner.
Using the shadows at,
The deepest depths of my mind,

To hide,
To protect herself
From those raging fires,
From the fear...