Day 183 of My Prison Sentence

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This house is my refuge on most days, four walls and a ceiling keeping me safe from the sun’s rays. The light scares me now but not as much as I scare myself.

Loneliness, a constant companion, only taking his coffee break when I force myself to sleep. That’s when the changing of the guards occur. In comes the Past like some beautiful monster, tearing me down until I’m left crumbled in a ball of pain, waking to my own screams, bleeding from wounds that have never liked the idea of needles and thred, preferring their crimson red, dripping and gaping like a soundless cry.

And when Morning comes around haphazardly knocking on my door and Day grabs me from the fortress of my sheets, I spend the next eight hours fumbling in a drunken stupor without having sipped a drop of Dionysian delight.

The guards change shifts once again at dusk and old man Loneliness comes back ’round, chains in hand. The night swells as do my thoughts, my body gives out with regret and relief all at once only to be thrown into the arms of the Past. He haunts my dreams you see.  He eats at my heart every night and slowly devours my mind until there’s nothing left but a shell of who I once was.

The Deep Dark Blues

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There are snorkellers, deep sea divers and creatures of the deep. You are somewhere between the first two and while I thought myself a diver once I’ve come to realize I pertain to the very last category.

It can be dark down there, the pressure tight enough to crush a brain to crimson ink. And while I wish to have someone hold me in that darkness, understand the depths at which I feel emotion, it’s not in me to do as sirens do and drag down their victims for want of company.

My heart breaks. More like my heart is broken and has been for so long that the good moments, so small, few and inbetween seem to vanish in the pitch darkness of the lower level sea. My eye’s have grown accustomed to the dark and so few live down here. It is a solitary existence. But what more can I ask for?

In order to have you beside me, to understand me fully and to meet me deep below, your God would have to turn back time, ravage your childhood, destroy your family through sickness like dominoes, have you feel the crushing weight of supreme betrail over and over again until the taste of it in your mouth became so normal that its acidity would no longer make you gag. He’d have to break apart your friendships, kill off your closest comrades all while you watched shipwrecked with no way to help.

Queen Elizabeth I stated, “The past cannot be cured.” So what am I grabbing at here? Nothing. Just the fact that you’ll never dive deep enough to reach me because your heart was never torn to pieces so many times you forgot what it felt like to beat in tune with the universe. Leaving you a needy, pitiful beggar for something…more.

All Hail

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After her death they called her a Queen. She was loved by all, yet she’d not always been easy to love. Not when substances blinded her and her subjects, reducing them to heartless cannibals. Their souls sold to a moment of ecstasy, kush, white lines snorted from tables, bottles drained like their bodies. Pushing back at all those who could not bare the weight of their house sigil. Nor the toxicity that had shackled them to the castle walls. I was never respected in the eyes of the people around her. I resent that. More than I can stand. I’ve lost sleep over it. I’m angry that her people who were once mine see me as a worthless beggar, a villain that began an era of hate and anger, unforgivness. I did nothing to deserve it. I could not save them from themselves and thus I am the only one who does not bare ink in the name death christened her with. For I did not know the one they named Queen. I loved and missed the girl I knew hidden deep within. The one who’d disappeared a long time prior to the reapers call. The one I once called friend. Her name now an echo in time.

The Storm (Air)

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Deep blue of the universe envelope this mind
Fill up its cracks and broken pieces, help it find
that little bit of stillness that takes away the noise
Make a once crooked thing graceful with poise
Those ragged shreds filled up with static
Those wires short circuiting ecstatic
Put them at ease, please
Allow them to sleep, the thoughts like tea to steep
Freedom comes in bouts of silent refuge
Worries nonexistent in the tongue of the wind
Blow over this wayside station,
Make clean this gasping inhalation
By way of force or pure desperation
Make it stop

Earth

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Roots buried deep in the ground
Take hold my ankles beneath moon round
Make me one with your breath
Keep me safe in life and death
Arms outstretched to rays of light
Branches reaching day and night
Grounded feet buried deep
Fruits from harvest you will reap
Body, mind and spirit grow
As above, so below