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Like a revelation 1:41 a.m. 2004-07-19 Tell me who to be and what you want me to do. These walls these words are burning holes in the past and present mirrors blemish the memories we treasured in our ignorance. Would you call this mask? Hide behind my honesty, a new kind of lie. This tide washes away the painted canvas of our tapestry entwined, yarn of love and betrayal magestic in its bloody perfection and reflective impetuousness. Sitting on stones at daybreak we radiate outwards, destroying these fragile masterpieces (hearts) and watching bits of glass scatter in the ensuing storm. Deep impact and shuddering reality scrap our knees and rend these walls with ferocity and ease. You were so gracefull (all hail the heartbreaker) It was a mistake we made, forged steel facades chipped down to tender translucency and you saw through every simple word but deceit was never on our minds. Render yourself blind to the problem, the blind see with a true sight you've grown to take for granted. If you saw you would understand and maybe this time i wouldn't wind up alone but you've given up your questions (questions i could never answer) The frailty of all this is the single screaming triumph of these tattered souls as we walk a fine line of blood and tears and smiled scars. Dance in this pale moonlight and awake to the indifference of this tired nighttime, the one you thought so powerful, an embrace of forgetfullness and loss (we're all strangers walking between the streetlights' halos of hope) liquid dreams dribble like morphine in a sterile room and every hope was a fleck of amber in these brown eyes. Would you call me fascinated? I am your lover (oh noose) i am your slow decent i am the ending of a beginning forgotten in the misty mornings where we sat on dusty spring porches and listened to the waves of the radio and smiled in the memory of times we'd hoped for something more than mere existence. Your gait was broken as you passed houses after dark, a shadow passing by happy families and warm lights. Its anger that burns when we see them smile, feeling so alone in our nighttime strolls, but i know i'd never accept that host of smiling faces and i flee every time (she said my name once and it sounded familiar) who will i be when life is in my hands? will we survive these mornings (you would kill for this just a little bit just a little bit you would) intentional ramblings and explicit truths we sought to bind in silk and present prettily with a ribbon and a word. "how can anyone with even one thing to love live life like that?" who's voice asked those words as i woke from tortured slumber? Why is the dream forgotten while the words remain? Is this all that matters in the end of it all? And you all make me feel like this has become a routine of varied spaces and endless intervals. You've grown comfortable with these words and they rain off of your backs like cataracts of warm water. Every one of us cloaks ourselves in our superiority, weaving stories out of wine and too much lonliness until we see ourselves as magic, blazing emblems of love, or lies, or lonliness. And i try to remember, when i hurt, or when those songs bring tears to my eyes, or when i draw inthis smoke so sweetly, i try to remember that i am not alone, even if i can't feel it, someone else is feeling these same things. And maybe someday i'll find someone who can see the same things i see and i'll know it wasn't just another midnight fairy tale. Maybe someday i'll find someone who'll be my mirror and will make me smile with recognition the first time their face glows. (or maybe i'll smash every mirror and blind myself to passing smiles) But i want you to know that every word is pure and true, and i am a liar but i never lied prettily and i never claimed to be a better person than i was. Sinner. And only the ones who can't truly understand me seek to cripple me by crushing my means to cope. And for people like this, i have no time to spare because if i'm not breathing what is the night to me but a sparkle and a whisper in endless void? You should trust that i love you, and trust that i never made a mistake with a word i wrote or a thought that came unbidden in the mornings of inquiry. I'll suffer alone and seek out silence to be my companion in nighttimes drenched with forsaken smiles and pretty eyes that tell the stories of a broken boy and the girl he was searching for.
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