I'm fading emotionally in such a way that I really feel it's a blend of nothing anymore. I am not alone, but I am beside myself with the settling in of a crisp cold I can only describe as cool company. I wonder if it's just me or felt by everyone, unquestioned amongst us all, sitting and siphoning the calm from what could be peace instead of strategic warfare. No sign of the icy flippant chill that has been slithering restlessly searching for access not granted. Forcing itself up along my jellied spine corrupting the balance I've mastered the art of mimicking and prompting a falsey strong stance while I quake and keep surprising myself into observing it, me in action. Slithering through each cell it makes a path cutting through fleshy unease until I feel it seep into the tip tops of my tastebuds where I bite down fighting back a feeling I don't know. The taste of it lingers bitterly and the force of it has remained solidly sitting at the edge of my words twisting and darkening my tone and lacing each inflection with shadowed highs and lows that leave my head spinning and my eyesight doubled. Drunk from just trying to catch up and hear me, I find my speech is bruised and battered slurring past the sobriety of any given moment. I don't hear the message until it's sinking in with whatever audience got duped into thinking this was just a three hour tour. I'm the one stranded though, castaway in the middle of each landlocked moment looking to a horizon that holds no sign of rescue. I'm taking on water and it's a torturous affair that I can't keep my head above and it's coming close to swallowing my effort to stay afloat. I am just shy of sure that I can gulp a saturated salty astriction. It's never awkward. That's my job. I will divulge diplomacy, if not for the complacent comrades, for nothing at all. The shirt off of my back is much more your style anyway. For nothing else and no hidden freeze , I will make you look good. You just make sure no one is looking. The shit has got to be shut down. It's addicting to burn out this way. With such a silly flit of flame fucking with the idea that a fire escape translates to 'a blaze of glory' when it's all said and done. Politely put it's merely some shattered semblance of little white lies sowed in a viciously tight, filthy, and unforthcoming woven web. An intricate and treacherous tangle that bodes not well for anyone who should traverse; Despite intentions of Ethos. You're better than this, right?
A steady pull dispatched by the very same internal tanks that urged you a first breath of life now vacuums vetted emptiness and hurls you into a harvest of purely poisonous particles, when maniputlated by fire at the bulb of a transparent messenger who deserved a good slaying in the first place, it employs seemingly weightless property as it melts into a liquid that's massive density (The closest accurate relative scale would assume it's weight to be that of the planet earth.) then gets deposited just atop one's shoulders to be carried indefinitely or until it's crushing effect eventually smothers the specimen in any number of different ways, all of which are terminal. However, aspects continue on to enter swiftly and euphorically into a now ever growing ditch where your spirit once danced with casual elegance and sound intelligent comfort a dance only seen through eyes awakened by lust of life. It was just an experiment to know my enemy. It was going to be over before you even knew it had gotten underway. Little white lies. White lines? Who died? It's all true, I made the bed and I know what I'm to do now, but before I live up to my full potential, I will stand up for those who got left behind. Unconditioned by those 'forever is for us' songbirds that sang sweet melodies into each moment we couldn't wait to spend humming happily along. The lovers, family, strangers, and friends that loved us too much to watch the frailty of a looking glass once it has fractured. I wanted you to see something real. All I had to show you was chemical smoke and mirrors with severely compromised integrity. Understandably, I see that you are absent, without word, on this day and also I'll assume each of those to come, albeit unceremoniously presented in this way, and in worse ways until none, I ache to know and excitedly wait to discover if I get to forget you too. I know you're not here, you may be thousands of miles away, I still mourn freshly each time you've come in to stay awhile day after day. Mercy would have you make other plans. I don't complain of you being memorably reliable and relatively punctual at that.
If a girl cries in the woods, and there is nobody to hear her, does it really sound like we should send the search party? Milk carton missing. Vanished from now and removed quietly from all the hopeful uncertainty of if/when/what the future could've held. Disappeared from your world by an opponent masterfully designed to destroy you. You've created your monster and it's bigger than you could possibly imagine. You'll be pulled from whatever regular scheduled programing you should have tuned into and now, if you're lucky, you'll kept wherever you might fit into whoever's .. 'that was then' and possibly squeezed into some of their.. 'I remember that one time'. That's only IF it even gets noted that it, that you, your life ever was at all. You might be as gone as you feel. It's easier to clean up a mess if you forget how to let it sit there and turn to spoiled rot. Easier still if voiding the mess's existence entirely makes it's existence exactly that; A void. In this case, if memory and emotional preservation serve your old 'life', your old 'used to be's', your old 'favorite's'.. right, it's entirely possible and more than likely your glass, no matter if it be either half full or half empty, ever even gets across the memory cupboard threshold. It never wasn't if it never was. I watched as it poured over the edge, spilled silently, and gathered to a barely rippling puddle. A puddle that was to be ignored. I am here. Spilled and barely rippling from what residual drips occasionally remind me it was meant for something. For someone possibly. Maybe just something small that meant anything at all to anything at all. The pulse I feel when these last drops cascade is not my own, it's the beat I missed. It's the stir I could've caused if it all didn't turn into a puddle of white. Instead of paying mind at all I was left. Of those who could see it pour out I guarantee there was not a dry eye in the house. I worry not for each your heart had built. Fear not the washed out windows to souls once connected with, or the flooded streets of familiar faces. See, there are no eyes that burn wet hot and red with hateful heaving waves of reckless loss, there are no moments of impossible bargaining for your safe and purified return and surely there no hands on deck. When it was all or nothing, when the clock struck now or never you know what happened. You saw the turn out. The shut out. I'd say this deck been properly cut and had a fair shuffle and now you get see what side of luck your going to fall face first on. You're the odd man out and both sides of that blade look desperately thirsty for fools blood, and appear to be as sharply outfitted as an opposite gendered co-worker would be. That is, for the lawsuit savvy office friendly type attempting to be generous with kind observation. It's saying goodbye to the person who loved you back. Truth is I loved you enough it shouldn't have come down to you to choose if I stayed in your world, in our memories. If I had stayed there you'd never have to had choose what kind of door I was to slam shut on us. If I were still where I should be I'd have never even let you be so wrong about 'forever'. As the story goes I huffed, I puffed and I smoked until I folded flat to just beneath a shattered foundation. The edifice debris scattered. 52 strong, painted faces, and suits to match collapsed by a familiar looking wolf. I wonder now why this fur wears so loosely I feel inclined to blindly follow what has promised to take me in the wrong direction. This cabin of cards was swiftly dealt and I got my ass handed to me. Who show's up and cries a stranger's funeral, I never should have let you forget me when you think. Bottom line is societal stigmas coupled with certainly deep seeded, but widely known to be true reservations concerning self hatred and the exit to the high way educed a heartfelt cacophony of deep seated silence during roll call. One little monkey jumping on the bed. They should've been there. They could've made a fool of you for wishing them away from your life. Denied that you broke a promise unmade. I wasn't so different at first but now I know I should've listened to you when I was deaf even to me. I hated you for knowing before it got bad enough that you should. I hated you for caring how fast I talked now and that I wasn't hungry for anything you'd ever try. One little monkey and whole bunch of crickets. Chalk it up to hosting a tough crowd. Or likely some tough chalk eating away at it's haplessly hospitable host. One jumping monkey who hasn't gone to bed. My precarious primate skull preparing for blunt force drama. Buoyantly bouncing up, down, and around. Jumping upon unmaid eiderdown, brewing for ice cold bloodshed. For the love of god give me acceptance in case everything should change. Gift me loose change for the things I refuse to accept and hey, I gotta know,what's the difference between 'wisdom' and 'was dumb'? One step; A head. Help, I've fallen and I can't hit it again. Even pipe dreams know when it's time to get up.
It's the most empty way to fill your life with the heavyness of weighing in at less than never.
A steady pull dispatched by the very same internal tanks that urged you a first breath of life now vacuums vetted emptiness and hurls you into a harvest of purely poisonous particles, when maniputlated by fire at the bulb of a transparent messenger who deserved a good slaying in the first place, it employs seemingly weightless property as it melts into a liquid that's massive density (The closest accurate relative scale would assume it's weight to be that of the planet earth.) then gets deposited just atop one's shoulders to be carried indefinitely or until it's crushing effect eventually smothers the specimen in any number of different ways, all of which are terminal. However, aspects continue on to enter swiftly and euphorically into a now ever growing ditch where your spirit once danced with casual elegance and sound intelligent comfort a dance only seen through eyes awakened by lust of life. It was just an experiment to know my enemy. It was going to be over before you even knew it had gotten underway. Little white lies. White lines? Who died? It's all true, I made the bed and I know what I'm to do now, but before I live up to my full potential, I will stand up for those who got left behind. Unconditioned by those 'forever is for us' songbirds that sang sweet melodies into each moment we couldn't wait to spend humming happily along. The lovers, family, strangers, and friends that loved us too much to watch the frailty of a looking glass once it has fractured. I wanted you to see something real. All I had to show you was chemical smoke and mirrors with severely compromised integrity. Understandably, I see that you are absent, without word, on this day and also I'll assume each of those to come, albeit unceremoniously presented in this way, and in worse ways until none, I ache to know and excitedly wait to discover if I get to forget you too. I know you're not here, you may be thousands of miles away, I still mourn freshly each time you've come in to stay awhile day after day. Mercy would have you make other plans. I don't complain of you being memorably reliable and relatively punctual at that.
If a girl cries in the woods, and there is nobody to hear her, does it really sound like we should send the search party? Milk carton missing. Vanished from now and removed quietly from all the hopeful uncertainty of if/when/what the future could've held. Disappeared from your world by an opponent masterfully designed to destroy you. You've created your monster and it's bigger than you could possibly imagine. You'll be pulled from whatever regular scheduled programing you should have tuned into and now, if you're lucky, you'll kept wherever you might fit into whoever's .. 'that was then' and possibly squeezed into some of their.. 'I remember that one time'. That's only IF it even gets noted that it, that you, your life ever was at all. You might be as gone as you feel. It's easier to clean up a mess if you forget how to let it sit there and turn to spoiled rot. Easier still if voiding the mess's existence entirely makes it's existence exactly that; A void. In this case, if memory and emotional preservation serve your old 'life', your old 'used to be's', your old 'favorite's'.. right, it's entirely possible and more than likely your glass, no matter if it be either half full or half empty, ever even gets across the memory cupboard threshold. It never wasn't if it never was. I watched as it poured over the edge, spilled silently, and gathered to a barely rippling puddle. A puddle that was to be ignored. I am here. Spilled and barely rippling from what residual drips occasionally remind me it was meant for something. For someone possibly. Maybe just something small that meant anything at all to anything at all. The pulse I feel when these last drops cascade is not my own, it's the beat I missed. It's the stir I could've caused if it all didn't turn into a puddle of white. Instead of paying mind at all I was left. Of those who could see it pour out I guarantee there was not a dry eye in the house. I worry not for each your heart had built. Fear not the washed out windows to souls once connected with, or the flooded streets of familiar faces. See, there are no eyes that burn wet hot and red with hateful heaving waves of reckless loss, there are no moments of impossible bargaining for your safe and purified return and surely there no hands on deck. When it was all or nothing, when the clock struck now or never you know what happened. You saw the turn out. The shut out. I'd say this deck been properly cut and had a fair shuffle and now you get see what side of luck your going to fall face first on. You're the odd man out and both sides of that blade look desperately thirsty for fools blood, and appear to be as sharply outfitted as an opposite gendered co-worker would be. That is, for the lawsuit savvy office friendly type attempting to be generous with kind observation. It's saying goodbye to the person who loved you back. Truth is I loved you enough it shouldn't have come down to you to choose if I stayed in your world, in our memories. If I had stayed there you'd never have to had choose what kind of door I was to slam shut on us. If I were still where I should be I'd have never even let you be so wrong about 'forever'. As the story goes I huffed, I puffed and I smoked until I folded flat to just beneath a shattered foundation. The edifice debris scattered. 52 strong, painted faces, and suits to match collapsed by a familiar looking wolf. I wonder now why this fur wears so loosely I feel inclined to blindly follow what has promised to take me in the wrong direction. This cabin of cards was swiftly dealt and I got my ass handed to me. Who show's up and cries a stranger's funeral, I never should have let you forget me when you think. Bottom line is societal stigmas coupled with certainly deep seeded, but widely known to be true reservations concerning self hatred and the exit to the high way educed a heartfelt cacophony of deep seated silence during roll call. One little monkey jumping on the bed. They should've been there. They could've made a fool of you for wishing them away from your life. Denied that you broke a promise unmade. I wasn't so different at first but now I know I should've listened to you when I was deaf even to me. I hated you for knowing before it got bad enough that you should. I hated you for caring how fast I talked now and that I wasn't hungry for anything you'd ever try. One little monkey and whole bunch of crickets. Chalk it up to hosting a tough crowd. Or likely some tough chalk eating away at it's haplessly hospitable host. One jumping monkey who hasn't gone to bed. My precarious primate skull preparing for blunt force drama. Buoyantly bouncing up, down, and around. Jumping upon unmaid eiderdown, brewing for ice cold bloodshed. For the love of god give me acceptance in case everything should change. Gift me loose change for the things I refuse to accept and hey, I gotta know,what's the difference between 'wisdom' and 'was dumb'? One step; A head. Help, I've fallen and I can't hit it again. Even pipe dreams know when it's time to get up.
It's the most empty way to fill your life with the heavyness of weighing in at less than never.
