Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Knfe Prty

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” 
― Kahlil Gibran

How do you tell that person that lingers in your every thought a few simple words?

I saw him. The man who wishes to speak.
A cold stare in a mirror, trying to let it all go. He watches the tears leave his cheek and hit the old basin where his beard shavings reside. Tears in a suit are usually reserved for funerals, but this is just the start of his day. His work day, the only thing he holds dear.
He is dying to tell the story of the girl that believed in him. The girl he believed in. The once notable notion of what he thinks was true, but the sheer feeling of happiness is long forgotten and much like love, he feels it was all a cruel dream. A life he once cherished, now a burden to bare.
He is living a life he knows shouldn't be his.
This is not him. He has spent so much time on a love that clearly wasn't his.
The lines on his face may disappear with a single smile.
A real smile. A phrase he no longer knows, much like the emotion's sign. Being the guy before the right one comes along wasn't something he planned in this journey.
A broken person in this mirror. He occasionally feels some excitement for what may be fun, what may be her music. Cold reality comes creeping in. This is not right, he says. This is not me, he thinks.
He falls to his knees, in the back of his mind he is slightly worried about dirtying his suit pants. He knows not why.
Living has become somewhat a chore. He looks for paper and pen to write the letter they need to read. He has no interventions and no shinning suns. Hands are shaking and the words just can't find the paper. If he does this he will hurt his mother and... he stops and thinks. He can't think of anyone else who will be truly affected by his departure. This life is a disaster and it stings.
He composes himself and realises he must go on. The White Pony runs through him and calms his nerves. One more digital bath and the change will happen.
The reflection gathers momentum and takes his thoughts. It reminds him of how excited he was to see her. It reminds him of her silly faces and beautiful eyes. He thinks of the last time he saw her out the front of his parents' home. It was not a goodbye.
He wanted to thank her. She brought joy into his hollow life. A love that was unmatched and memories that he will cherish forever.
As time passed the fact that the time neared that he had to let her go was bigger than he thought. The closure for him was evident but also very final. His reflection spoke again.
It said the truth he has avoided.
You had the chance to truly love. You felt something many people dream about. Open your eyes to everything that doesn't involve love and find comfort in solitude.
It's time to be alone and die alone.
The writing was always on the wall, time to choose to see it.

Monday, July 15, 2013


When the night comes I think back. I lay in a hollow bed that I share with someone who is a passenger on this vacant ride. I look at her and think of someone else. The intimacy doesn't exist and the tension grows daily. This routine has become habit and plainly put a disease. I just closed my eyes and saw you and wished I had held you more and reminded you I love you each and every day. We wasted so much time and this situation and feeling are a result of me and my actions. Just one more night would let me rest in peace, just one more night to tell you the millions of things I miss. I don't know why and when but it went wrong and I ache not daily, but in each minute I ache. You can't change what has happened but it's doesn't hurt to wish. Just one more time in front of you playing music..for you.

Monday, July 8, 2013

My Sense Of Reality

I can't remember the last time I held a microphone in my hand. The beats that once resinated within my core have vanished. Stories that were once my trophies have now become burdens I live with. I close my eyes as I lay alone. I think back to it all and how a smile felt. A real smile has not graced me for longer than I can remember. 
Lines on my face multiply with time, sighs and tears. I once was the fun guy...now I'm the forgotten. I chose a bitter path that won't end well. I often look at the speed on the dash. How fast until the flash of light. Too late to go out on a high. Each room is always dark and cold. Where did the moments go? Is life a series of days passing until the next disappointment?

In this moment you are you. In your moments I was me. I don't know who this is anymore. 

I wouldn't want to know me, so why should I blame you all. Misery waited a long time for me and it found me. 

It's time to avoid myself.