Two of Swords

by | Mar 23, 09 @ 11:03 |

She's crawling across my skin again, baby face void of trust; kisses and whispers void of any truth. Another bite as I moan in pretended pleasure, knowing that my face is not the one she sees behind her closed eyes. But even her muted colors are a welcome to the black and white picture that I stare at as she kisses her way down my chest. And in that moment I realized that love is nothing more to me than contempt-with-benefits.

I lay in bed barely conscious as she gathers up her clothes and walks out the door even before she's gotten them all on; as though she couldn't return to his arms soon enough. Tomorrow I'll drink, continue trying to repair the friendships I'd destroyed, cleaning up the aftermath of all my mistakes over the last two years; she'll grow tired and frustrated with him, calling me; and I'll once again be just another surrogate, and pretend that I'm perfectly okay with that.

And I can't decide if I should stay and salvage what's left here, or leave this all behind and start the next chapter in my life as far from here as I can drive.

Ace of Wands

by | Mar 20, 09 @ 04:03 |

I heard its voice again, after two years of silence. Clear, audible, physical. "Jaydon Wake Up!" in a tone halfway a whisper, halfway a growl, and my entire body jolted. "I'm not going" I said out loud, even as I found myself alone in my bedroom, halfway through the pronouncement I couldn't figure out why I was even saying it. It was still light outside as I rolled over in my bed. Five minutes had passed since I'd last looked.

My stomach was beginning to hurt, that horrible implosive empty feeling you get when your heart has been broken. But my heart wasn't broken. I could feel the crackle in the air as my energy was drained from me, quickly, efficiently, completely.

My heart was racing, and I knew I needed to get up. My subconscious was beginning to disallow sleep again. Anxiety attacks when I lay down; and him… it… whatever 'it' was, every time I would begin to fall sleep. I would hear it, or see it, or feel it so realistically, consciously. Sometimes it took form, putrid and appalling, blasphemous and unknowable scaring me awake. Sometimes it would be behind me, whispering and manipulating me by a silver cord pulling me from sleep. But most of the time it was inside of me screaming from within and trying to claw its way out violently and painfully.

And amidst the shame and fear, and despite the pain I regarded it as an old friend; with perfect love, perfect trust. To embrace is to write again, to be creative, despite the debilitating side-effects . The hatred, and anger, pain, wrapped around a fucked-up sense of beauty, and every part of me that I hate and have suppressed for two years consuming me… the me that I'd been craving for so long. Loneliness, despite the love that I will pick apart into nothing. I will be me again. I should be laughing. I should be happy. This is all I've wanted for so many months. I'm finally free.

Instead I cried for the first time in three years.

It's a rough start but I'm returning… sadly there's three years of my life that I can't even talk about… and nobody should expect me to…. but announcements are coming…. there are exciting things ahead… I'm terrified but hopeful… vulnerable but alive for the first time in years…. things have been put back on my schedule…. five years late but it's coming within the next year…. sadly there's no longer many people left that would understand what I'm talking about…..

Your birthday present is late, but I know you'll understand

On Trust and Compromise

by | May 28, 08 @ 02:05 | ,

I wanted to believe in something more than
laughter at silly faces and pillow fights,
screaming until voices are gone and tear induced dehydration.
I wanted to believe in forgiveness and never being alone;
in arguments that didn't last entire nights.

I wanted to believe that I could actually do something right.

You are right to say that I can't be trusted, and yet you'll
never have the strength to just let me go
as you rhapsodize about apologies and compromise
and say that now the decision is all mine
But I'm not sure I even want to believe your words now
And they all just sounds like bullshit anyhow.

Four of Cups

by | Oct 23, 07 @ 02:10 |

Have you ever dreamed of these old walls? The blood that trickles slowly from your beautiful face? The screams that pour from you filthy mouth? Or the way you squirm delicately and elaborately beneath the silence of my hand over your lips? There is a secret here, dying slowly, can you hear it? Can you feel it? As your very bones crumble under the weight of my fingers like sand muffling your choking attempts to scream again into a room as dark and empty as my depraved mind.

Wake up.

Your green eyes greeted me as I rolled over again with a long sigh. The snores of the puppy lying beside the bed filled the silence of another sleepless night. The cat purred quietly as it walked over my face, and I laid there silently staring, too tired to care. You smiled at me in that half-asleep way that's more felt than seen before I rolled over and pet the dog that continued snoring and softly whimpering in a dream.

And where am I going this time? Where have I really been? I've been through all this over and over again. Falling and rising in a mad slaughter of reason and willpower. The hours wasted waiting for you to return just to shove you out the door again. And where do I go in between the shallow arguments and passionless embraces? And how do I deal with the paradox that when I'm alone I want to be with someone and when I'm with someone I just want to be alone?

XV. The Devil

by | Aug 10, 07 @ 02:08 |

The flash of faces ceases with each gasp of breath, with every one of your pathetically cute moans. I want to forget it all, to bury it beneath these sweat-soaked sheets. I want to scream with every thrust, every bite, every memory that I strive so hard to replace, to forget in this sick act of degradation and humiliation. I just want once more to be overcome in the violence as I explode into everything I've hated, incinerating every lie that got us here in the first place.

And to think that some people believe there's something sacred in all of this.

You were always the sweet one that would come in my time of need. Beautiful, but nowhere close to what is best for me. And maybe if I had a conscience I wouldn't treat you this way. I've never been able to figure out how I can love so much and care so little. But I just can't seem to help but view you as a scarred and bruised plaything to make me come in my time of need.

The night's last cigarette is when it always collapses in on me, and in the smoke that curls in front of my face I see the monster that you see. Nothing really matters in the screaming, the love we wrap around us to hide the hate-filled core; in the morning we'll wake up knowing that this was never where we belonged.

And I'm not sure either of us would have it any other way

Sometimes you can find a way to fascinate me, as we sit in the silence as the light of dawn begins to creep in beneath the window shades; whispering all your nauseating adorations and affections. Sometimes I'm comforted as you rhapsodize about your happiness over the hum of the fan; but most of the time I just wish that you would shut-up and look pretty.

I'm not sure what is colder sometimes, my heart or the temperature in this God-forsaken room. You slammed the door again as I find myself alone shivering in the bed trying not to laugh at your pathetic outburst. Sometimes my arrogance gets the better of me; and all it took was one word bleeding through my lips to bring whatever connection we may have had to a close. But I have to admit that it's nice to have the bed to myself as I curl up in the warm blankets and relax to the sound of you crying me to sleep on the bathroom floor again.

I am currently in a state of limbo, as is evident in the lack of updates or really any online presence. Just let me enjoy life and being happy a little bit longer before I start the blatant self-destruction again.

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