Rituals.

So, obviously, I changed my profile and picture. Well, obvious in a relative sense. And if you scroll down, you'll notice I posted a ton, and I do mean a ton, of poetry (still hate that word though, such bad connotations .). Read it. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. Hopefully it isn't obnoxious. And don't forget to use the ratings bar I stuck at the end of each one. Oh, just a note, by "A Gothic Dream," I mean the architecture and historical period, not the current cultural trend. That might not make any sense, or any difference, but it was my intention. P.S. There's no ratings bar. Music: "Kiss You Off" ~Scissor Sisters "Love Song" ~Sara Bareilles *Farewell Salute*

She opened her mouth and smoke billowed like morning fog, pouring out of every limb, like blood soaked sludge, the floor wet with her disgrace, crimson proof that she was human, filling the air with a sparkling, ebony, star-soaked stream. She did not move, tears showing that she lived while she was wishing she was dead, the spit-upon half-dead, dwelling between the lines of existence, a blurry footnote on the world that despite all her efforts, all her reaches into the darkness on her left and the brightness on her right, never bothered to acknowledge her existence with anything but scorn or neglect, offering not even the joy of both, worthy of only one emotion at a time. It was all in her head. A nightmare that showed her so frail that their pebbles, cast like stones though they weighed so little, broke the crisp husk that she wore, crackling like airy wood hissing in the fire. She could scream at the top of her lungs in a bellow to shake the sky, a thunderous exclamation, an edict of

A Stygian Flight The Welcome Here is wearing out This house is not a home The sanctuary of this invitation is building a wall inside my heart I cannot guarantee that this is progress The faded garden path Flawed architecture As though I should have known earlier As though I should have been able to detect That they were a barrier against me As though all these choices stood before me But the devil spun me ‘round Screamed in my face And a demon changed the backdrop Locked in a cave Till the sunlight distracted me Till the sunlight drew me out Given this moment It was beautiful Golden light and greenery Blue skies that let me go Fresh air tempered by freedom And the perfect peace of mind But then began the whispers Behind my back Directed at my spine Like daggers White hot hate Scalding my skin Boiling my spinal fluid Tapped To run through the veins To eat at the heart of all I am To inspire decay through the grey matter A poisoned root Has wrapped around my bones Drilling through and ea

They Tell Me I Told Them So. I was a child. Once. I thought things I thought should never be I misunderstand the organic nature of my personal depravity The world is rippling in front of me When I close my eyes I see the waves The world is tearing apart I sway when seated and drift when stand My mind is anchored but just in sand I am not news-worthy I am losing myself here too A heart of darkness opened to civilization I am the monarch of a lonely lost tribe. I am the only one And even among my own, I am a distance I try to weep But it is a dry heave I cannot name the emotion that builds behind my eyes But I do not have the tears to push it out. Pain is a knife in my back. Stuck. Forced to be nice Forced to feel concern I look at simple objects and feel miles away. I stand on rims and my mind slips over edges Backward to dream, drift out of location Forward to embrace oblivion I used to think that all it would take is the Perfect But now I am torn Depression says they won’t exist Insan

Primordial I am the middle ground I desire neither hot nor cold Tepid greets me best Neither wrath nor joy, I cannot hate I cannot love I am not black I am not white I would be grey But I lack the skill to choose one thing This nor that Here nor there I am not anywhere I am everything that is nothing Surrounded by choices I cannot accept When moving I do not think When thinking I cannot move I am myself only when I stop to remind myself that I have made choices before But those times are rare Hidden by the choice to make no choice To walk the tight, taunt rope I am not left I am not right I am not gone But neither am I still here Stagnant and brewing Salt water The source of life And it’s destruction But what? A future A past I cannot go I cannot stay I cannot express But the bottle is already full I cannot cause myself pain But yet I remain, living in it Hypocrisy There and back again I cannot finish what I’ve started It is a wonder that I’ve started So slow to move Seeking silence in

Infernal The bandits raided Demons who stole my heart I am left vacant A showpiece For all the things not to be I am Titania Attended I am a Wicker Deity Erected Burned And failing to take notice I have not danced naked in the summer rain But my mind is free I will ascend Rising through spheres Divine nations The future I have seen Striving for connections because they are all I have The value of them lost to the horizon A black hole event Swallowed hearts Sitting in my throat The foam at my mouth Made of words I cannot say The shotgun would do it If only you had the heart Demons stole it Pulled it through The slices in my veins And I found myself the better for it More able to endure Demons stole it Demons stole it This thing that didn’t work This thing of hate and wretched sin This thing to stoke a fire Venom And the snapping scorpion tail It is only poisonous if the barb pierces your flesh and pumps you full Tiny little molecules that fly to central organs Screaming and shutting dow

Version Aversion I fear this circular device How will it change me? Between activity and depression I am dead Fronts of heat Fronts of chilling, chilling storms Converging Collisions Mixing and winding about to create this thing I am Synchronicity I fear this circular device How will it change me? Will an alternative be formed? A distinctly separate individual that I am cannot recognize Incapable because I cannot comprehend this new lifeform? Or incapable because I have ceased to exist? Would this person match that person? Would they be capable of these words? Would they be recognized or dismissed as peculiar musings that no longer fit? Could I swallow it every day This change An unacceptable motor function A shattering experience To create new life Would the creation be better accepted than the creator? Would only resemblance remain? A semblance Would I give myself a funeral If I could see my own death Would the offspring give the eulogy If it were capable of speech Would you like the

Amphibian I have Changed I have Become something new There are things you’ve failed to recognize For which, the blame rests with you But there are things which I have hidden To protect myself Not from you But from other influences Those are not your fault I am adaptive Highly so I sigh And say very well And acquiesce Because it is easier than changing your mind I often choose what’s easier I am seeking an environment where I fit But I do not wish to muddy the waters where I am As such, where becomes what And I lose the criteria I am drowning I forget to breathe I am holding my breath I exist because other people imagine me What they wish, I will become The great and powerful Djinn The great trickery of your existence is held within my hands

Burning Fueled by this dry, gasoline ache When I cut my skin It hurts But I don’t bleed My head tells me to stop My brain denies what my heart seems to need My jaw hurts And sits unset It remains one of the things I’ve said nothing about And yes, I have an excuse. But no one really cares Move Push Please Please wake up Please go to sleep Please pass away as it passes you by. Thoughts will not form in my head My pen lies still And rests though it has lost no strength With nothing to regain There is activity around me But I take no part I seek not to stir And remain silent Unquestioned My mind is awake My foot sleeps And neither seeks a purpose There is numbness That creeps up my leg And crawls down my spine I am voiceless I have nothing to say I seek solitude when surrounded And when alone I wish you would seek me out I have worlds waiting for me Unfinished Unpolished Filled with the half-born Waiting for my focus When I have none to bring to bear I wish to exist always With pen and pap

The Failure has entered a new realm A place of many people she cannot compete against Joy has nagged her to be this thing _____ She must refuse Attempts are made for a time But The Failure gives no reaction And soon the people leave Replaced by the small mutterings of inspiration They speak words The Failure can understand But without tongues, Their voices are lost The Failure must stand on her own _____ It seems unlikely She is restless for her life to begin But The Failure fears her Story is being told in another place Oh, The Story is supposed to say so much To guide The Failure To be a beacon But perhaps in wishing it to be so many things The Failure has missed what it is The Failure stands upon the staircase No one says her name She descends deeper than the steps allow The Failure is greeted politely when she forces the introduction But soon enough they leave her side Her ability to slip unnoticed is remarkable Though no one will When The Failure seeks attention she fails And when

I am the Queen of destruction The Queen of Ice And I revel in my seven sins My Throne is my Sloth And I slump forever in it The Mirror is my Vanity For I am haughty beyond measure The Crown is my Lust For I know you crave it The Window is my Envy For I do not have what I could The Apple is my Greed For I will always want another The Mouth is my Wrath For I will always speak my displeasure The Coin is my Gluttony For I have many more than I need But I do not care She is the Queen of Ice And her Kingdom is a Broken Mind A Story. A peasant came to see her _____ wrapped in burlap skin On a chain behind him, he brought a lion _____ scrawny and ragged with all-consuming hunger The queen stared from a crystal throne, _____ basking in the light of satisfaction The sight held no interest for her _____ And she turned the coin in her hand _____ Making eyes out the corner of her vision _____ Flirting with her own reflection The man speaks _____ In his ragged beggar’s tongue She cranes her head __

The story of Suburbanism Is one of Necrophilia For we are all so dead and wasted Our graves are shallow Just two inches Of green, green grass Our graves are kept in rows Our crypts barred by gates Rest in peace Peace in rest In peace, rest Our tombstones all the same Just rearranged And ah, the flowers Such pretty flowers To hide the worms And rotten, rotten flesh Tall clear windows That let no light Bright white doors That never lock And let no one in You left me lying On damp, on dirty Ground My blood is spilling Pooling And everyone just stares Waiting half an hour to swim Crimson of the purest pencil lead Free of sidewalks, of curbs How can you call this “community”? No longer split by tracks But diagonal rows of grass Each a snarled opinion of their own The United Nations among neighborhood segregation The great division of “my opinion matters more than yours” and “oh my god did you hear” No. For I have shut my ears against this American nauseation Corpses raping corpses Secrets

Appetizer My heart bleeds And it breaks And it shakes with earthquakes And it’s all I can do to survive Why do you keep feeding me lies? Laureate I have resigned myself to the fact that this thing I have done I will continue to do Despite my distaste for it’s label and classification And that despite being depressed by it (not that the depression hasn’t been a benefit) My skill at this function has grown and spread into a talent And I regret that this is the place I find success But my mouth is open and this is the honey that drips So if this is to be the one place that I find a finish line: At least I can know I finished well. To Say the Least My harshness has not been mellowed with my coming of age But rather turned to a glass-shattering note, bleeding through the yellowed pages of my history book. I remain a wretched person. Aspirations I meant to write a poem about the first night a city turned on its electric street lamps. I didn’t find the time. What I Wish I’d Told a Goth “There

This was not my intention To fall before I flew And as such I feel shame at my preparations My aspirations You will disapprove You’ll think I’ve given up You’ll be unsure what all your help has meant If in the end I did not finish But where would I be To what point would I have made it If you had offered nothing And now Months after I have begun this undertaking I continue to fall Twice again the depth of the earth I continue to fall And remain ashamed to talk I curl, simply wrapping in a protective shell Listening As debris cuts deep scars As shrapnel buries With jagged metal teeth Into the core of my existence I pretend it does not happen For if I don’t admit Then reality can surely not exist So I cower From all the things I could be I hunker And pull the covers over my head I do not fear that I will never succeed For I know that I should I fear that I will never finish And miss out on my chance I lose focus Even when I write these words I lose hope Because I’ve written so many I am

Break my bones. The despair is killing me You are all so empty I want to cry I want to scream There is an overload And I know no release I can’t stop crying I don’t know why Every night I curl up and want to die Silence in my world Sorrow in my steps Burn it Burn it Pound the pavement Harder, Harder Bang the drum and make it louder Writhing in your sullen grave Take the pill that’s all the rage Don’t worry. I want to have a home again I want to live alone again I want to go to sleep again There is shame in my voice When I speak to myself There is a stranger in my mirror I do not understand this lack of will It is going to take so long. You ask for too much Things I just can’t give It’s not you it’s only me Death and darkness Suicide and sleep These are the themes I talk about These are the things I seek Hanging _____ On words that are never spoken _____ On plans that are always broken The friendly spark _____ Always burns my hands When you almost broke my heart You almost set me free M

This is an empty seat Molded _____ (Built for one of two _____ I can wait for either _____ A midnight rendezvous _____ Illicit or other I will accept it) This is a cry for help Can I help you For I am fine _____ (At least, as I chose to be) Oh unremarkable This world This place And I hope The destination I am fine _____ (As I see it) In who I am _____ (Not without flaws _____ For I never stake that claim) But they are flaws I enjoy I am happy to play the advocate The devil If it will force honesty Introspection If it makes you think about who you think you are What you think you believe You say the title of the list I am… And never notice items, stipulations, they tack on the end Most Senators don’t read the entire bill I am happy As I know its definition Dark but for the clear Dead but for a pulse Heartless but for an ache I do not truly argue With the things you say For you say I am wrong And I know I am not But I will spar When there is no significance attached All the things you do

Garage to garage I have searched for an item I cannot find Rare enough that it is lost and remains even now unknown But it holds a value that you cannot imagine Though only when I hold it close enough the hear the ocean It is a purple plastic triangle searching for a home amongst pegs of other shapes A final piece in a child’s puzzle It’s comprehension beyond their understanding Offering fascination only by brilliant plumage and coloration It is deeply covered in dust This second layer of life It lies beneath the plastic skin of protective wrap A treasure in the bargain bin Up and down asphalt streets that blister black and writhe with waves of heat Beyond the spin of tire spokes and casserole Beneath the wafting spell of burning leaves Footprints mashed in 2.25 inch grass grown of Chinese silk and dyed the perfect truest truest green Behind polyester pines with perfected manicures and zoo attraction shapes Past everything you see every time you pass there is a line of sewage connectin

You come out ready Building for a fight You expect I won’t fight back You act as though I am diminutive Without a mind of my own Or the heart to back it up You roar your challenge And stand there assuming I will quake And every time I answer back It catches you off guard Your irritation is a hair trigger You explode You kill us all with friendly fire But flawless you remain Because when we protest You scoff And put us in the wrong You are right because you say so With no logic to the point You are oblivious Blind But I’m sure you think you see it all Where the other eats us from the inside out Rotting us at our core You simply cut the legs out from under us Insisting we be shorter Smaller To emphasize your power You instill no drive You inspire no passion You gave me no chance But expect me to succeed Despite that you do not care about what I love You show no interest But expect results I am dying in this place And you’re the reason why.

Wanted With his cowboy boots His two-gun rig The Rawhide Kid Admired With his gentle hand The Rawhide Man Equivalent to requisite Defying the expectations Defiling The secret kernel of a dirty mind But a mind A mind The Rawhide Kind A horse to ride A town to rid The Rawhide Kid The folded brim The Rugged The pale indoor skin The Brilliant Two entities swirling In a town not so big The Rawhide Kid Make me swoon Make me rise A completion Because you must Because I know you can The Rawhide Man Thunder in the distance The threat of a storm Here to keep me company But gone to keep me so The Rawhide Foe A battle fought But I keep who you are Once found I will not be lost The Rawhide Cost Two-gun trouble A deep, deep rumble A cave-in I have fallen in a well I have hit my head against the wall The Rawhide Call I have needed help But I am held, strong and calm The Rawhide Arm A look A glance Happiness for miles The Rawhide Smiles It is a love I think is gone I think I could have made it If only

Save the horses The barn is burning A chain gang forms The Bucket Brigade Gallons of water Pulled from a deep dirt well The scorching red paint Is burning in the night The fire is whipping in the wind A rushing burst is ripping ‘cross the prairie plain The drunk was left alone and discovered a bottle of Scotch Now he roams the streets in haze Watching the town burn and blaze The stupor of his mind reaching to his feet Stumbling one step forward One step side He speaks the truth in metaphors mistaken for madness He offers innuendos that are much misunderstood Bursts of brilliant orange have split the sky in two Seen from miles away Any watching eye will know what they mean They believe in telepathy Sending best wishes in the form of brain waves Surging like the seas Washing over buffalo that aren’t yet gone The natives have seen what nature’s done The sheriff is caught with a pail half raised Would that he could just let it all go Salvage does not mean salvation And will either come at

So sick of this sad squalored existence The bile in every breath So tired of all that surrounds me Wishing for the emptiness of death But the what if stops me What if I am punished for all I leave behind For the things I ruin What if There is no rest waiting There is no loving silent embrace by frigid darkness and a blanket of stars What if After I sleep I wake What if I start all over What if the universe can’t help but punish such a selfish thing What if I am not remembered What if it is thought that I had nothing to say But the what if drives me What if My whole life will feel like this If all my bones will ache for all my days What if I am truly meant to be unextraordinary What if my future is full of sorrow and the salt of tears What if my future is empty of a friend to understand What if my future is without someone who will truly love me I sit on endless steps Surrounded by the world and all its gray possibilities I am too depressed to more forward I am too scared to fall down I

Is it pride that keeps me? A slave to this insistence Beyond “I am right” and “you are wrong” Or another way around Beyond the cast of a shadow Dwelling in a land of silence Where you won’t speak and nor will I Across an expanse you sit and what? Mourn? Seethe? Or do you not think of it at all? Ever our difference I can suppose You easily cast aside in favor of another A thing A toy A friend But I sit and wonder I hold not to anger For I can let it go I can forgive It is just not in me, this “capacity to forget” I am like the looming grey With tusks of white And resonating footsteps I search for the graveyard of my kin Valleys hidden behind waterfalls Stretching horizons with sand-blasted corpses Ribcages will swallow you whole My footprints are puddles that others can swim I would be buried by my kind The gentle hand dragging soft leaves and grasses If I were anything but alone Left to rot I continue the best I can The solemn slog Through mud to swallow me Through horrors that consume

A body lies on a cold steel floor She does not move She barely has the will to breathe She is alone The room around her is a dull, matted gray Empty Nothing moves her But every once in a while A man comes to talk to her A woman comes to visit her A child’s presence will delight her He can make her smile One of the few things She enjoys his company But she makes the mistake of expecting him Looking forward to him And now, He does not come She is alone again Once she had a family But she pushed it aside for her friends Once she had friends They would laugh and play But when she asked a question They would not answer _____ (she wondered if they even heard) So when the silence continued She pushed Once she had friends _____ (she pushed and they pushed back) But they pushed her away Once she had a life But she pushed it aside to find herself To find happiness Once. But her life is gone _____ (she sits unprotected, undisguised in the middle of traffic, the road, just waiting for a car to s

The Well and the Being I did not know her long _____ But I knew her well I did not know her deeply _____ But I loved her so And though we had not the time To share as much as I would have liked It was more than enough _____ But it is not enough And I miss her deeply And when I think of her Tears drift to my eyes And my heart breaks With a pain that can not be determined For it simply bears down on my core And drags my body with it My ribs turn to iron Incasing my lungs My limbs freeze and seize And I do not think I can continue For I did not know her long _____ But I loved her deeply She allowed me Like no other I have known To put aside my concerns so surely That I forget they were even there For a longer time than any other distraction allowed And for this gracious blessing This divine gift She asked nothing in return But an open ear and my presence Who before has ever requested that? And the memories I can still hear her laugh And I can still laugh _____ At the good times Before the

I Am Weary Of My Burden. So I Lay It At Your Feet. A Caution: These words are not for you They are for the Intended The Stability Who has yet to make an appearance If you are unprepared for this Burden We will both crumble under its weight I say these words simply because they Demand to be said And not because I want you to hear them By Way of Introduction: Ah, such foolishness was brewed this night that brings about these thoughts But they command to be written and so I do Ever a slave to the English language and all the sensual coaxing of the Word And even as I write them, my mind fights the effects, adds to the effects and begs me to leave it be. But, sigh, I never can For in all the things I’ve ever learned And they number many I have never learned when, or how, to simply stop. The Meat: There is a drift A tide That ever pulls my car It would be such an easy thing To release the wheel And slide into oblivion And everyday, every time I must fight the urge All that dirt is just too t

Film A case of self-destruction The clues: Spontaneity Frivolity Sloth Lack of reverence Lack of self-control Internalized issues That fester and boil and break the skin The Cable was a mistake It snapped And I fell Left on the ground With coils winding about The Hope was a mistake The expectation of it all It was not so much that the world failed me But that I sat And waited on lightning When the conditions did not warrant its appearance Oh despair, despair At this woman in red who has walked through my door Trouble she brings with her Clinging to her hem The Petulant Child Oh despair, despair At this mysterious Hound An option it brings That I have yet to consider The Unsettling Question Alas, that nothing is as it seems This Hidden Enemy This Unseen force This Drive behind it All A tack A nail A spike To drive me off my road My path My intended course And yet Mystery of mysteries I can blame none but myself (Though I cannot think when I might have placed it) Like a man I once knew,

The Padre and the Pattern Unfair I suppose To call him unmitigated Or suggest That he is without cause The truth exists That a cause exists And oft times I drive him to that end But the depths To which he dwells Are beyond the span Of necessity There is a drip here That remains consistent And bears down And wears down And digs so deep it burns within my blood To be sure My view is clouded By the rage I feel By the volume of my hate And the weight of the pain I have been left to bear it Alone Because no one acknowledged The fact that it was there But this impression that I have The weight of his hands around my throat Cannot be pure imagination For others there were There are Boundaries A gate and a fence To caution them To make them aware of the edge But for me remains the sensation Of simple oppressive suffocation As though I never had the room to roam And so like Sisyphus I persist in the inane I persist in the useless reiteration of actions that will never be completed And so like I

Try Your Hand at Resurrection Sleep is Overrated Underrated A desired state Inevitability And self-destruction A place to cower A trap That pulls you in A place With heavy eyelids And a heavy heart A thing to call you Cotton sheets With a chilling whisper And blankets That drape Like smooth velvet With pillows That cannot replace The lost warmth of another person Perhaps Some day Some thing will come along That is more engaging Then this place I sleep Perhaps day will become More inviting than the night Perhaps I will rejoin More productive than I have been Perhaps I will continue As I have before Never becoming Never leaving Never waking Or rising from the bed I’ll call my grave

The Chalk Outline Sleeping on a dead man's mattress Dreaming of a man in drag Hung With cut strings Rolling back into oblivion The sour notes of sacrilege Ringing in my ears A House of Flies and a Welcome Home The stroke of my skin An expression waiting to begin Building to a crescendo Amounting to an emotion I am striving to reach a level of awareness I have yet to comprehend There is a sensation in me I cannot understand A coat of ice And the destruction of my future My own little corner A haven where I have been shuttled and locked away My portal waits With visions dancing at my arrival I am on the inside Sleep is kept at bay for an eternity while my creativity storms free on a quest for the hope I know I’ve lost But all my inspiration builds to desperation and strays about in a ungainly waste of effort And for all I have accomplished I have nothing to show A thousand trees Cut to a million planks And burning in the sunrise Lying on the ceiling Staring at the floor The spirits o

Cathedral My heart wanes _____ And breaks With the weight _____ Of my self-imposed Despair. Such blasphemy I speak Of faith _____ I have none For I have not Taken the time To decide what I believe There is sacrilege _____ In these walls _____ Sanctimonious in sanctity There is decadence On this hallowed ground I hold Lust _____ in my head Gluttony _____ in my hands Sloth _____ in my limbs Greed _____ in my heart and Pride _____ in my pen I am a Waste Of a life Of the care _____ and kindness That went into my creation _____ If only Blood flowed as readily as ink _____ to hollow my shell _____ (May it catch up with my words) But it marks me a coward My actions are of fear _____ And yet Fear keeps me from the actions I am a waste _____ Of divine inspiration Because I waste it _____ (And I waste away) What is the better _____ To pick To choose _____ And follow blindly _____ With faith that is pure _____ but cares only for the surface Or is it the worse _____ To know only _____ That you hav

Six My heart is broken By Time And by Failed Intentions In a house of Crystal and Polished Glass my Reflection is Distorted I no longer see what I Am But only what I have Become I cut my wrists And give a sacrifice of Blood to the Old Gods But the Alters have been Forgotten And the Gods have left And I am here with Nothing but more Pain to Add to my heavy load My Soul will die in this place I have Shut it Away To keep it Safe To keep my Sanity To Survive But it will Die In a Storage Room of my Steel Heart And When I Leave And Let it Loose Nothing will Come My Soul will Die in that place And I am Soon to Follow I seek Glory where there is none I seek Purpose where there is none I seek Life where there is none And I seek Love Though I miss it when it comes Though I flinch when it’s in front of me Though I fail to notice it when it leaves Though I can not tell it is there Even as I am feeling it Alone and In Pain The words on my Grave The place where I live For Death has come But Only for

The Fellowship of Our Folly The drip of shit The flow of excrement because we cannot keep our mouths shut Spittle and froth Because we do not take our words to heart The stench of this waste A repository of suppositories Where we lay all our curses to rest Trading them about like so much clutter One for two Five for six Yours and mine All about in this havoc The disintegration of value The loss of equivalent exchange A marker A buoy in the midst of this tidal wave of angst The sludge flows Moves within us The heartbeat is gone We are left in the wake Left with the refuse of all that has been before The st-st-stutter of excellence The loss of innocence The absence of guilt The dissolution of blame Nothing to be given No quarter to gain Frozen byproducts The cattle we claim Death comes quietly In this soundless rush This muted uproar A knife to cut A vein to bleed The pain to spark With bones to burn The effort required to carry on is too great under the strain of burdens we no longer be

Town Crier: The Broken Chapter Oh the burden we bear, being able to speak. Who would read this? Who would care? Meaningless trivialities cycled over and over. Spinning around to be spit out again. The inability to create originality every day sickens me. Who would feel sorry for me if I shared? I tell myself and even I can see the truth. I have only myself to blame. Circling the drain. Washed up. Washed out. Filthy in my disgust. Disgusted by my bravado. So personal I try to share. Without anyone knowing it is me. The mood swings. The mind screams. The empty echo of all I've been. The emptiness of my past is immeasurable since I still have nothing done. Nothing to measure with. Nothing to measure against. A failure in my own skin. No matter which direction you look in. Petty accomplishments. Pitiful acquisitions. Oh what fools mortals be. So alone and convinced its okay. Months and Months. Days and Days. Years, even, when you think of my intentions. Who could ever feel sorrow? Who