Gone

I was born in iniquity, and raised on lies

I consumed deception by the gallons and immersed myself

How shattered must I be

that I can no longer tell reality from lies

or conjured fantasies from happened mundanity

 So shattered that even the hidden pain I veil

in words and poems and downcast glances

is but a shadow of the mirror of the true pain 

of the true falsehood that allows me to conjure up memories

that never were and paint them brighter and realer 

Words that allow me to slip on a mask and become 

more than average but in the process lose that average

but yet even as I stumble search and seek

hoping to grasp some morsel of wisdom through introspection

even then when I am alone and my heart is laid bare

even then when I am entwined and my heart is stripped

Even then,

the truth dribbles out in increments 

flooded out by the gallons of deceit that spews

endlessly and relentlessly from my mouth

from my carriage from my very existance

Each small drop of truth a unique snowflake soon consumed 

by the sandstorm of life and I am left blind

scrabbling for truth and trading for pennies

searching for the secret place I stashed them

but even as I watch the place I placed them is gone

leaving behind naught but dust and doubt 

Each step a lie is drawn on the sand in footprints

with waves of reality following erasing the marks left 

but yet somehow I am always a step a head 

Searching for a place, a person, a thing

something so much more than me that I can release myself

and be torn apart and rebuilt from the core out

each memory construction reduction reduced 

and re construed to match what truly lies within me. 

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Sticky Note Story: Fragile, Handle with Care

He looked at the dull brown box and read with tired eyes: “Fragile, Handle with Care”. He laughed then, a lonely bark of a laughed that was both swallowed and echoed by the now cavernous walls of his house. “Handle with Care,” he muttered darkly and sneaked a guilty glance at the only memento left of them together. It was a picture, their smiling faces the background and their hands together forming a heart the fore. “Fragile” he whispered. 

Futility

Stagger, stumble, lurch

reach, reach, reaaach!

Step after step after bloody step

Sacrifices your stepping stones

You climb, and you climb

You Body: Battered

You Spirit: Shattered

You Soul:

Eyes glazing over

But squinting, you see glinting

in the distance.

The Prize, the goal, the climax of your story

You are brimming with energy

and you are alive

Alive and overflowing with life

Done.

Achieved.

Finished.

The story has reached the climax

and the cover is about to close

You conquered the mountain

and now there is no more

The energy drains

the crown slips from your gray

gray lifeless hands and lies glinting

in the sun

And the throne is too large

and cold

So you get off

and live a life of gray death

waiting in hope for color