Other Writings
If I were to die this year, a pleasant end to misery,
It would be knowing I was never loved by whom I loved,
And that is fine by me.
For it is better to have professed it, even rejected,
Than to deny the chance at all, to disrespect it.
And it is better to be lost, to have found nothing real,
Than to be with someone who professes what they do not truly feel.
No wine, no bears … no sincerity.
Ah, yes, I was the devil, the madman, the creep. Yet, I was only what you made me, dear, what you needed me to be, and I stood for my transgressions, punished, and remain so. You rejected me for lies and lack of possession, then damaged my ability to attain those things. Did you not know it continues to this day? It has not ended. But you have never answered for your part, scot free, and I know I am not your only sin but you’ve atoned for none of them. What...
In most instances what’s bad is not the act,
But the motivation.
I hear you judge …
Calling my condemnation hypocrisy.
But my impetus was your deception,
And I only used what was freely found, not altered.
Not me … you weren’t that lucky.
A desperate plot to lead your melodramatic vindictiveness astray.
No, you have no right to judge,
You with your lips sealed to the truth.
You who altered history to bend minds against me.
You who did not really suffer.
And what true harm did it inflict?
Nought....
Enjoy the kiss of your slavery,
As my blood runs cold.
My heart has grown weak and has stopped.
I have grown tired, grown old.
There are no new times,
For you hold no truths.
I only seek sleep before an empty day rises.
In a way, she had tried to kill him, hoped he would kill himself, as she projected more than once, needing to sell the drama and remove him permanently. Spoiled, arrogant, and vindictive … everything was about her. She had not told them that he had done exactly what she wanted … left her alone, let her off the hook from having to pretend she was his friend. She had not told them that she couldn’t stand it when he did, that she needed the control, nor that she had refused to leave him be and,...
Lights too bright, burning aura that hurt the eyes
Soundtrack thumping in her mind like some ghost’s wailing,
Throwing off her balance, making her head feel full of air
Faces known for decades now stood blurred, smiling but impersonal
10 … 9 …
The bubbles fell flat upon her tongue, the liquor bitter like her heart,
And the room swayed as if it were breathing, but not from inebriation
Something was off—an oppression upon her soul, unbearable emptiness
Growing as the seconds ticked away, a...
Where are we? We dwell upon an island surrounded by what we can never hope to fully understand.
What are we worth? Nothing. We are dirt and sun, and return to cold earth to be warmed by the sun once more for something new.
What is the soul? If it exists, we only have intuition of it, and some have none or it is dark, feeding on deceit and ego … and for what?
All our conceits, all our vanities,
All out routines and obligations are meaningless, invented for safety that we have allowed to take...
Do not pray for me,
With your feigned faith and lack of loyalty.
Do not use me as your excuse,
To forgive your guilty conscience and lack of truce.
You could have made it all go away,
Healed the wound, heard me, and chose to stay,
With forgiveness—a hug, a kiss, a note, a letter,
But vengeance pleased your ear much better.
You locked me in a cage, an iron fetter,
To match your encaged guilt, no humble regretter.
You moved to have me banished,
Stabbed, drowned, and completely vanished,
While...
Just an excuse or just can’t count? Same decade? Gotta stay in that lane? But that’s insane. Time doesn’t work that way,. It’s an arbitrary division. Coming of age in the ‘80s. After ‘83 that decade was all but static ‘til the 90s. That age gap had no effect. We both fell into The GAP. We’re the MTV age cohort. We’re the arcade, Valley Girl. Same experiences, more or less. We’re the New Wave. Tiffany and Paula Abdul, not much difference. But those before, maybe born the same decade, but not...
Invasion of my mind,
But no trace of you near me,
Teasing torture, left behind,
Wicked dishonesty.
Nor trace of me in you,
No thought kind, no dent,
Not even fleeting memory,
All my time misspent.
Warmth around the fire,
Under the mistletoe,
Disingenuous smile, hiding heart,
Past lies no one will ever know.
The clock tolls twelve, move in closer,
False motives and champagne,
A lying heart, intent upon using,
The little demon knows no shame.
No truth and no conviction,
Content to play a part,
A murderer of love,
Celebrations of a false heart.
He saw nothing.
He heard nothing.
Her world was an opaque wall to him.
But he knew anyway,
Knew what she would do,
Knew her mind.
He could just feel it, sense it,
Feel it through any wall.
It was a connection she never allowed herself to know,
A gift from her own god.
But she dismissed it,
Ignored it,
For applause.
If he were poor would you be there … in that car … in that bed? Is there any subtance to him without it?
It should have been an aphorism if it weren’t. And that is to say that a man knowns when you’re with him for his money. You’re not fooling anyone. And, if he doesn’t care about that, and especially if he knows that you’ve lied egregiously in the past, even though you deny it, then he knows your profession and what he’s purchasing. It will never be anything more than a business deal.
Enamored of bullshit,
Bathing in it,
Sleeping with it,
Breathing its fetid breath.
A false existence you know all too well.
What have you achieve by it?
What facade have you settled for?
What poison have you allowed under your skin?
What have you done to yourself?
Love cannot dwell where lies still lay,
No matter the denial, there can be no ray,
For whatever illusions are thought to elate,
The lies all connections do permeate.
So those words of want are spoken untrue,
Because falseness has never been admitted to,
And all love becomes yet another ruse,
By tainted hearts that seek each other to use.
And interest that comes from out the blear,
From one known for years without being near,
Is just a ploy without sincerity,
A grasping need for control of...
If she’d ever been able to sling written words with passion, building monuments from them, she had lost that ability long ago, given it up, like her salvation, choosing to dumb herself down, mentally and morally, for men not worth a damn.
Though superficially the envy of others, how bad must her upbringing have been to turn her into someone with so little sense of reality, so little that was real about herself, actively choosing a perpetual childhood enslaved to a surrogate father not worth a...
Cold falls upon the world,
And the average person curses it.
Not because it stings their flesh,
Though that is their excuse,
But because it is like their hearts,
Exposing them, their insides reflected back,
Dead, uncaring … cold those parts.
So they wish to run to warmer climes, using arms,
Where the sun, faked feeling, is the guise they hide behind,
Kissing their skin and cloaking their ice.
But the sun asks a price,
A price of damage—spots, deep lines,
Marking their ruse, though they sought...
I still remember you, my little dude,
A friendly greeting every morning,
Absent attitude.
A pleasant purr, a lover of scratches,
A gentle soul, even in rough patches.
And though you were used by a faithless heart who feigned to care,
You were always true—you were always there.
Until cruelly taken out of the blue, as nothing remains permanently,
You were sent away into oblivion, like so many others,
Snatched right from me.
But I remember you.
Soil my name for eons,
Smash my face,
Cut my skin from my bones,
Break my body until there’s nothing left to shatter,
And burn the remains.
I feel none of it.
I am as empty as your honesty, as empty as your love.
Let me escape this drudgery.
I am so tired.