Red Myrrh

Promises, Promises, Promises. How many times can I pledge the dive, only to cower away from the plank? How many months can pass while my dreams remain the same, but my age continues on? Where in my journeys do my detours account for stumbles further down rabbit holes of absolute certainty? This isn't my life....this isn't my dream. Where did I go wrong? Dare I deflect accountability and accuse my surroundings for deterring me? No, I dare not...why would I dare? No threats, no taunts, no fear tactics to compel me...no, my fate is of the doing of thine own will. Thine own cowardice...thine own seconds of contemplation. Oh, how I hate wallowing...it is beneath me. And yet it is all I do....all I can muster when divulging of life experiences to the unfamiliars. The unfamiliars are who understand if only for those few moments of unfamiliarity. But the mask eventually falls....and the wallowing surfaces...they disappear soon after. Everyone disappears soon after...they fade...they are erased...or they simply vanish into the void of life. Heavy do my eyes grow..but for what sleep do they long? For the hourly snooze of energy and nourishment....or is it a darker slumber that awaits? The inevitable sleep....the eternal sleep...the sleep of social indifference? Perhaps that sleep comes sooner than later....but of the later, my cards are dealt with faith. Promises, Promises, Promises....melancholy orgasms of hope and optimism...and then they fade....and then they fade.

Gluttony

I have abandoned reason and will for the temporary comfort of edible comfort....what was once a childhood "friend" has returned to me in the utmost unwanted manner....why does he soothe me in a way that no other does? He has no words..he has no face....he has no wisdom to share...he is empty in fulfillment but the joy he gives is intoxicating...I devour him at my darkest times...at my happiest times...at my saddest times....at times when my thoughts are quiet and he is merely there in wait...he does not wait long....but his "comfort" comes with disastrous effects...falling like a poorly constructed row of dominoes fated to lay each other down in a loud and calamitous thud. He brings me comfort and he fills my circle of mental fortitude...but the circle grows bigger...the circle has grown immensely within his comfort...I do not like the circle...the circle depresses me as others mock and ridicule the circle...the depression drives me to him...I devour him...I cannot stop my insatiable appetite for him...but when my appetite is quenched, there is emptiness...there is cheapness...there is hollow sounds coming from within...Oh, the cycle...I need him...I eat him...it fills my circle...the circle is mocked...it saddens me....the cycle repeats. I lock him in the darkened cold, but my circle calls for him at night....so I run. I do not wish to run to him anymore..his comfort is that of fading winds...the presence is felt but for a fleeting moment and then all is calm again and no feelings to be felt. Come back to me reason...return to me, will..so that I may gather my strength to fight him...to only devour him at my neediest times...to look at him with indifference and not as my knight in shining armor for an hour. I vent to you, reason and will, because you are my saviors....I must lock him away.

Crimson

I look at the world, and it's a little less dreary today...my new surroundings instill me with a little more hope, and yet the race remains the sane....a chance, but out of reach. What motivates me? What drives the need to succeed? To come out of the anger and come into destiny's aura? Each day awakens a different kind of hope that maybe this day will be the day that life finally turns to the will of my choice. The mornings bring the sun, and with it comes promise....daydreams seem so real to the point that reality becomes a distant memory and depressions escapes me, if only for a brief moment. There is more to see, so much to do, so much to take, so much to leave, so many to inspire, so little to hinder. The cigarettes seem a little less cancerous, and quitting seems to be for those fear their imminent death at the hands of poisonous addiction. The hope is beautiful...it is why I can smile despite my own self-imposed sorrow. But why does the hope fade? Where do the dreams disappear to? They disappear to oblivion....murdered and left to rot by the decay of objective truths and circumstances. Hope is the sword that pierces the thick husk of despair, but alas is no match of truth. The truth of chances so minimal to those of us not able to seize our dreams, and capture our nugget of happiness, be it a small one. By days end, my hope has faded and all I do is gaze at the other nugget thieves around me. My mind tricks me with a jealous deception, engulfing me with envy at the disgust of the undeserving rats eating away at the cheese of success..they've stolen it. It was left for them to seize, but they did not earn it, they did not even want it. It was given to them and they take it for granted. They are happy and I am not..they achieve their dreams, while I am reconciled to dream about taking my dreams. It is when I sit down to reflect that I look up into the sky and am caught in the orgasmic trance of the departing sun...a gorgeous orb of crimson and pink lights illuminating the sky and setting it ablaze with colors of beauty that stop my heart. My eyes well up with tears as I watch it conduct its daily dance into the night....deep breaths calm my charred soul and the hope returns. If I have no other reason to continue to thrive, it is to see this wondrous spectacle of nature commence its heavenly journey in the universe. My hope has returned, and promises of a new day are created once again....but they will fade, and then they will return. That is a tortured existence for some, but is the only existence I have known...perchance this existence will be different one day...one can only hope.