Where the Dead Things Are

Silence beats at your ears and it bleeds
because you know your screams can never be as loud as your silence
in telling your tale of where the dead things are.

The dead do not weep.
So of course your soul is bleak
and stares out of hollow eyes
informing me
that your glitter hides corpses that reek
of self pity and self hate
because lets face it
you were never strong enough to love yourself
especially if society had a hand in it
labeling you and us all
to be nicely packed and shelved
but you know and I know that displays are just that,
It’s all a front; a big fake
cuz we know deep inside where the dead things are.

Inside there is no need to hide
no need to lie
about who we are or what we want
so we nurse our inner diva
but it remains just that a secret
out of fear of crucifixion
of public conviction
that we are not;
smart enough, rich enough, beautiful enough, Or even well connected enough
so we stifle our dreams
deep inside us
out of fear for persecution
we kill our own hopes
murder our own dreams
before they have a chance to
bud- farless a chance to bloom
our chances have been doomed
so our insides become graveyards
paying everlasting tribute to what could’ve been.
So these graveyards we neglect
in frail attempt to avoid spiraling into regret
and spiraling even deeper into despair.
We never want to visit where the dead things are.
We never want to face our deaths.



The Moon is Out Tonight

We are lover under the moon,
for no matter where we are
we share the same view.
But tonight we share that view
as two;
you behind me
and me on you.
We stare up in admiration
at what we will never have
but you in the shadow
grasp at what is now.
I feel heat on my neck
as your tongue presses
and is soon followed by your lips
and you pull me close
as we hide in the shadow
caressing the darkness
of passion within our souls
and soon we are face to face
our lips pressed in an explosion of blissful pain
knowing that we may never share
this view as two again.

You open up to me
and my tongue slides in…
searching for some truth
in you that you love me.
But in all my haste
I have gotten lost in the heat
and you have trapped me
and refuse to let me go.
We battle,
me digging deep
and you holding tight,
as you rise
and time flies
but all I find is lies
and that your arms are not mine
and your heart beat although I feel it
it does not synchronize with mine.
You pull down my shirt and expose me to the stars
searching for sweet nectar
but you are not a god.
You pull and I collapse
for our dance has fatigued me.
This tango of wanting
but knowing that I shouldn’t have
and shouldn’t take.

The moon is out tonight
and so are we.
Lips swollen from heat-
bodies hotter than solar flares-
souls laid bare-
tongues fully tasted-
moonlight exploited!
The moon is out tonight
and we are no more.

You the Desert

What’s worst than feeling pain
is not feeling at all
‘cuz you know that
something’s coming
like the silence before
the storm
it’s your mind prepping
by keeping your soul and body calm

What’s worse than believing everything
is believing nothing at all
‘cuz when shit hits the fan
you have nothing to cling to
it’s like drowning
and there’s nothing to cling to

What’s worse than feeling pain
is feeling desolate
a desert with no vegetation
no wind blows
and your soul stands stagnant
wilting under the weight
of the hot sun
that is life
dying because there is no
reason to live
and there is no feelings to feel.

Hearts of Cold

When we are young we put it out there. We share, we love, we hug… until something or someone cracks our faith and trust. The next time around we are less willing to do the previously mentioned. We love a little less and grow a little colder- we develop hearts of cold.

Of course not everyone gets the heart cold but most of you know exactly what I’m talking about. When was the last time you had a heart to heart with someone you knew.Why is it so hard to trust those you know and so easy to trust strangers? Judgement. A stranger knows nothing about your past and you can therefore present yourself as you want to be viewed. It is a lot harder to pull wool over the eyes of those who know your actions and therefore know your pattern of behavior.

It is not to say that when you meet someone new you lie or skew who you really are it is more of a presenting who you are at the moment or who you want to be. Who’s to say that by acting like who you want to be you don’t in the process of repeating the actions, make them habit and indeed become who you want to be? The problem with the people you know is that they are less reluctant to let you become who you want. They are so used to the pattern that is that anything that goes of that path they expect nature to drive it back. There is no better way to break a bad habit than by replacing it with a good one. So here are a few ways to kill the heart cold (get out your pen and paper… or ipad/iphone/android).

1. Crack a smile
I have been told countless times that I am unapproachable or cold because I never smile. I’m not saying to go around smiling like bozo the clown but every now and then cracking a smile could be the difference between a good day and a bad day if not for you then for the stranger you’ve smiled at.

It is very hard to change your path if you’re carrying a ton of emotional baggage. If you intend to tread a new path dispose of all garbage before you set foot on your path to heart health :). Wouldn’t you like to start your new journey with no bags arms swinging at your side?

3.Go somewhere new.
How can you expect to change if you’re visiting the same places. The same places lead to the same actions and the same actions will NOT lead to a change.

4.Express yourself.
Holding things in is dangerous. You don’t have to express yourself for others and you definitely don’t have to make it public. Expressing yourself could be as simple as how you dress, what songs you sing when you are alone, writing, or drawing in a private book. If and only if you feel comfortable sharing it with others then and only then should you. Why let dirt and grime build up in you don’t you clean your fish tank or empty out your pet’s litterbox on a regular basis (for all you anti pet people don’t you clear your phone’s memory or delete the cookies on your computer)… why not do the same for your soul?

-Please feel free to give suggestions of your own

Replugged Soul

My soul is dead
I detached it from my brain
that is why i feel naught
what it expresses
yet somehow i slipped up
and slipped the cord in
forgetting that it would make me feel
and with shit i just can’t deal
I slipped up
and slipped in a puddle of emotions
that turned out to be a pool
that turned out to be a ocean
i slipped up and drowned in my emotions
thinking about what was
My soul is dead again
and i will try my best to keep it that way
no slip ups
no remakes
no digging up
a dirty soul
i need a cleansing- soul??
but then i must acknowledge that i have a filthy soul
go through emotions that i’d rather fold
up in a filthy pretty little box
put in a casket and
in another metal box then and only then will
i seal the filth in a vault
throw it into the ocean of time and forget about it.
My soul is dead
unplugged from my head
I would rather not feel
I would rather think
because when your soul hurts
your heart breaks
and your eyes tear
but when your brain hurts
you pop some pills and go to sleep
My soul is dead.
I’ve unplugged it from my head.

Soul Seasoning

Soul Seasons
The seasons flow bold
and relationships fold
they alter; they flourish- if nourished
they change like the seasons
for numerous reasons

There is the season of spring
the season of growth
where everything is new
and therefore everything is good
and it smells sweet
and it is sweet
because there is no decay
its all about play

Then comes the heat
the season that is summer
when everything is steamy
so close -damn near dreamy
everything is on a roll
and EVERYTHING is hot not cold

In creeps the Fall
the end of the ball
the season where decay begins to crawl
and so blindsided are you by the leaving heat
you fail to realize the leaves done “dipped”
the colors the hues
of the trees sing your blues
and yet you fail to realize
that death has arrived!

Wicked Winter comes quick
because you’ve allowed Fall to creep
and theres hardly turning back
when you’ve reached winter’s steps
and its cold and its bitter
and souls freeze over
and even the memories from summers heat
fail to melt “icicled” souls
the past seems something ancient rather old

Yes the seasons are a cycle
and friends are the same
but how many have your recycled
how many have reached spring again??