[x] The Dirge and Dorian Gray

there is no depth to my love
and it scares me to death
becuase in it's absence that very same endlessness
just becomes a void
when left to my own devices
that abyss has to be filled with something
so i tried my hand at villainy
only to have it consume me from the inside out
sometimes i am not even sure
that i am the hero of my own story anymore
small conquests to get me through the day
today i just want to be evil spelled backwards
in the romantic myth of myself
i have suffered sirens, slain dragons
and distressed many a damsel
yet the measure of me is how tall their tales have become
their only power over me i know now was simply my own weakness
the truth of it is i let the drown me in that abyss
and was too broken to do nothing more than drift away
into the nothingness that was left
thought i love nothing more than to be smitten
i'm not exactly sure it's possible anymore
and that makes me very sad
like lamenting something i'll never have again
let's just hope, for the sake of this story
that someone proves me wrong
because if i ever stop believing
then i have no power indeed
in this long absence of fire
there is only darkness to light the way
and i fear forever being lost
when i was never meant to be left alone
what i'm trying to say is that i worry about my soul
i've never been a humble singer of songs - 
but when it comes time for my very own dirge and wake
if someone could ever paint me like dorian gray
i wonder what my portrait would look like

[x]the end.

the words - they come and go as they please
it's not something i ever have control over
keeping me up some nights, not letting me sleep
not until i give them the form they desire
sometimes i let the exhaustion win
only to feel as though my genius was left to dreams
so now i try to get every last word
because my night writing is to hope as my days are to despair
so much as a letter escapes me when i go chasing them
and thus luckily i cannot force myself to write
it's a good thing too when i cannot find the words
because i am the harshest critic of their authenticity
i write simply because i have to 
the only want involved is to purge and give this away
time doesn't heal all wounds 
you just get used to bearing the scars
the shadow is something i will never escape
and i have come to terms with that
there are days where i could almost feel myself dying
until i remind myself that life is for the living
out of pain i scribe in spite of the four
within my soul i can feel pestilence, war, famine and my old friend
though it remains to be seen what the pale horse will claim first
the end of my life or the end of my words?
truly - I do not fear you, my old friend
only never being heard, or never being found
being as self aware and as human as they come
I i know the only immortal part of me can be voice
there are things that i know in my temerity
the last thing a every poet pulls from the well 
is an empty bucket
so i have to wonder - how finite is my expression?
one way or another, someday I will be gone
someday who i am will be forgotten
yet if my my poetry is ever over
someone please remember - to turn on the lights

...so i can find my way to the end

[x]rubber band.

maybe i stretched it too far or too long
because the past snaps back like a rubber band into the present
and when the shock wears off
the life that i am living starts to feel vaugely like my own
i've lost track of the times
that i had given up hope
walking around every single day with my shadow 
following me like a perpetual chalkline
it's hard to reconcile now
the sequence of events
all i remember is fighting my way out of the rain
for a single victory among a sea of losses
i know now that one less drop of blood
or maybe one less tear in the process
and maybe none of this would have ever come to pass...
but that doesn't make it hurt any less
this has to be some kind of cruel joke
becuase it's distressingly hilarious
that when life decides to come and get me
i seem to have forgotten how to be found
sadly - because things are going so good
that i cannot help but look over my shoulder
in a conditioned anticipation - 
of letting it all be taken away
maybe my eyes are still closed
out of fear of them not being able to adjust if i open them
i'm stuck in a place with people screaming
telling me the lights are finally on
i hope someday that i can learn to accept happiness
for the life that i sometimes feel is not mine
because everything that just snapped back
feels like something that was stolen from me

[x]The soundtrack and the rogues gallery.

All of the greatest hits of my ex's 
are married and gone
Even some of the B-sides
Even some of the one-hit wonders
So here I am, 34 and alone
even my rogues gallery seems to have found permanent henchmen
All of my best battles behind me - 
and I myself seem to have trouble just holding on to a sidekick 
I know for the majority of them
the only thing worse than not having them
Is being stuck with them
for the rest of my life
Yet when there is no one to look forward to
I cannot help but look back
Back to when my battles with my arch enemies
were broadcasted in black and white
United in common cause
simply to bring me down
I am thankful that their chaos in my life has died down
as my former debris have settled
I have eluded their capture
yet in being so free I am even more imprisoned
I do not miss any of them or the time we shared
yet I cannot help but wonder
if bullet dodging is my super power
and yet my kryptonite as well

[x] The contrast of desire and pain.

Every girl that has either come or gone
has instilled, and left me with one of two things-
When things are good it's all about desire and gain
when things are bad it's all about loss and pain
And when that picture gets more and more refined
from every victory and even more defeat
When you lay one over the other-
it results in the portrait of a perceived perfection
The chaos, white noise, drama of the background
just makes me long for the person
Who becomes, one battle at a time
clearer and clearer in the forefront
She made me want her
simply because I couldn't have her anymore
Such a simple devastation
to such a complex salvation
She knows and is sorry that we could not free each other
regardless if we bothered to try
She was my victory and then she up and left
before we even had the chance to get started
My only spoils in this war
are the things she couldn't take with her
My only trophy - the certainty
of her knowing that I was the one that claimed her first
She was such a long time coming
and such a short time going
that time neither seems to relent nor pass
refusing to let me move on in this time of peace
If I cannot have her then I need someone to save me from myself
because I am going to love her
until someone else claims and forces me to love them instead
and I am more than welcome to it

[x] The Ostrich and the lightest dark.

I could see from afar 
the red flags as they hung from crosses
So in hindsight I ask myself now
why did I even bother?
While contemplating atonement
I see an echo of my past in her heart
and this particular time the arrogant hero
decides to offset these things that he has done- 
Way back when I had to save my own soul
I had to find the lightest dark to do it
Yet to try and save her
I needed to show her the darkest light instead
Yet she would have none of it
and on my honor I would not press
So there we stood, polar opposites
her shroud was bliss and numbness
My hand outstretched and hers unwilling 
or unable to reach beyond her bubble
Something in me turned off when I watched her cry
when I watched her bury her head and heart in the sand
I wanted to yell at her
There is no redemption when you are an ostrich
You can only run, and run, and run, and run-
and never ever fly 
So to pre-empt my own pain
I pushed her bubble away...
I do not have the ability to chase anymore
and even if I did I could not keep the pace

[x]Control.
these aren't monthly meetups
this is a monthly support session 
so that i don't go crazy
when i speak a language that fear 99% of the world hears 
but doesn't truly understand
trying to justify - 
if love is what dragged me under
then maybe a little hate will keep me afloat
so i am not sure
am i the recovering hero?  or am i the recovering villain? 
i'm just trying to get past the first step
and these are hard lessons to learn
when i'm still a gentleman
ashamed that i am capable of being ruthless
but make no mistake
just because i would never raise a hand to a woman
doesn't mean i sure as hell wouldn't withdraw it
and leave you to settle with the masses 
this is control as a defense mechanism
this is flight as fight
and i am not thing more than caught up in a war with myself
someone, anyone - 
just please grab me and slow me down
i just want, need - someone to break me in a good way
save me from myself
and this armor that i have been wearing so long
that I forgot how to take it off
because i know am in pain
but lost on the wound underneath
lamenting the present 
is just mourning the future in disguise
and when the ones that i love
don't light the way anymore
it's time to extinguish these old flames one by one
and as everything get dimmer and dimmer
just keep telling myself over and over
that i see better in the dark anyway

[x]The spots in her eyes.

I haven't seen her in forever - 
she sits across from me
I smile, she laughs, we play our parts
I try to be witty and clever
we function 
as if no time has passed
I can't even look at her
for fear of being caught staring
Yet those spots in her eyes see right through me
and bring out the things that I've tried to hide
I try to reason out 
if she's more dangerous than beautiful
my eloquence always seems to fail me
in this, with her, in the real world
mercifully she never presses
she just knows
That this is a conversation that is ongoing
like a subplot in our lives
I wish I could just tell her that I love her
just to see the reaction in her eyes
...but this is an exercise in restraint
one that we never dare speak of aloud
lest we give form to the tempest again
the way she handles me - 
I could swear she's part animal
yet this politeness only magnifies the tension
everything between us has always been so raw, so unrefined
she is the only storm I would ever let take me
this is longing without the specifics
she tears me apart as much as she puts me together
when our eyes meet it actually hurts
and I feel bad when I think she realizes that
because there is nothing that can be done - 
when I care too much to interrupt her life
for the sheer sake of want
so there she goes again, out of my life for who knows how long
and when she leaves
she goes back to being the only could've been
that I actually wish was

41027190

[x]Tombstone.

Every time I go home
it becomes less and less so
Here are my loved ones
and more so, the ones I used to love
when I stopped looking
This place dared to move on without me
like some unkempt graveyard
all wild and overgrown
I'm not here anymore to keep the grounds and affairs in order
and now the ghosts run amok
like the one that just walked past me
this is deja-vu in real time
as I suffer the moment again long ago
the one that changed everything
now just one of many tombstones
in this cemetery of a place where I used to live
where i'm buried with the rest of them
at least the parts of me 
that are dead and gone
to the ones i left behind

[x]Digital Ghost.

Emails, chat sessions, voice mails
I'm hearing her say she loves me
and in that moment
I know she meant it
With a click of a button
as many times I can take
I can be as much of both a 
Sadist and a Masochist to myself at the same time
This isn't a photograph, letter, or recording
Or something else
that is both designed and meant to fade
These are things that cannot be lost or burned or discarded-
Sure, I could hit the delete button
to make her stop haunting me in binary
- in megapixels and MP3's
But I am too scared - 
not of her digital ghost
but of accepting the fact
that I am too much of a coward
to walk away from the only place
where she is still alive