Ocean of Causality

The shadows crawl within me, blocking out the light of hope.  With claws and fangs hidden beneath pale skin I walk the land hidden by a mask of flesh and plastic smile.
Yet I know the truth of my condition, even if those around me do not; and those who do, run scared once they understand the full reality of my condition.

I am insane.

There is no other logical explanation that I can find.  I am a crazed lunatic with just enough sense to realize my sickness, but not enough will to do anything about it.  The shadows have consumed me.  My consumption of the past a hindrance to creating a stable mind, and I am lost unto myself.

I regret many things.

Yet try as I might, I have not the strength today to deal with the delusions crawling through my psyche.  I grasp at ghosts in an attempt to find some sort of stability, yet I fail.  I try to convince myself that I can do this alone, yet more often than not I fail in the attempt; thus finding myself once again reaching for somebody to hold me up.

I have spent a great deal of time gazing upon the water, attempting to find patterns within the chaos.  There are times I believe I see them, but the patterns do not hold true and I am once again stuck at square one.

To say that there are patterns would not be right, however, there is repetition in the waves, just not in the same place nor from the same directions.  In such, although it seems like a pattern, it is not.

 

Much like my life, it is nothing but chaos; just another wave in an ocean of causality.

 

The night sets in again.  Long, endless and dreary.  It falls upon me like a weight, for I know that with the coming of dawn, I will still be me.  The masks I wear are incomplete, never fully able to reflect the outward appearance that I wish to show.  There isn’t a mask for confidence.  The mask I wear keeps most people off my back; keeps them at bay so that they don’t vocalize their worry.  This is the mask I wear the most.  With plastic smile I walk through my day, faking out the world into thinking all is well.  They see it, they know it, and they expect nothing less.  Truth be told, the man beneath the porcelain facade is a crumbling creature with little left to keep him sane.

 

In the end, the mask comes back on.  Light does not exist within this soul, and only shadows remain.

I lived far too long in a world of excess, so much so that now during these dry times, I crave like an addict.  This is a test, and one I shall surpass.

I must stick to my own rules and resolutions, for there is nothing worse than failing oneself.

oceans

When I look at the water, I see nothing but chaos, however, in that chaos I see repeating patterns.  They are few and far between, yet they are there, in the underlying aspect of what it is.  The rise and fall of the waves come and go, although seemingly random, it is not.  It makes me think of aspects of my life, the peeks and valleys of my existence and I can’t help but look at the chaos and smile, knowing that it isn’t just me, but all of us.

We are but external pressure on the other, creating the ebb and flow of society with the choices we make.  In such, we are destined to be tied into those who are closest to us, yet, with those whom we don’t even know the name of nor ever will.  Just like the individual drops of water which form the ocean, so to are we.  Each one of us is a single drop, our world the ocean.  Cause and effect is the chaos of the sea crashing against the hull of this ship, and we are along for the ride with little choice into how things actually play out.

A single drop can not force itself to go against the masses, and in such, a whitecap is formed.  The larger swell consumes the smaller one in an act of destruction which is turbulent and complete.  So to it seems is my life up until this point.  After spending years in a smaller movement it came to a head as I got older and was surrounded and crushed by society as a whole.  In such, I have been cast into a world which is not of my choosing and it is foreign and strange to me.  I don’t know how to act in it, how to speak, how to love.  Everything is so different in this place and to be honest, it scares me to death.

The scene that I spent most of my adult life in was not normal in any sense of the word.  I accepted this without thought for I have never seen myself as being normal.  I was a freak before I knew what a freak was.  Yet now, I am surrounded by normal society … by jock boys, cheerleaders, thugs and preps, and I just don’t know how to be social with them.  I nod and smile, but in the end, I am at a loss.  I honestly still don’t know what it was you saw in me, for I have never seen it in myself.  Then again that’s where most of my doubts came from, for in the end, I’ve never felt I was worth being loved.

A long time ago I spoke of reflections, and what we see when we look into the mirror.  What I see is a waste of a man, full of doubt and self hate.  I see the scars and the pain of my past.  I see disappointment and weakness.  Although I know that the world sees something else, I can not picture them actually seeing something I am not.  Those who do tend to close the door, few rarely stick around to see what happens next.

I have found that in most of my relationships in the past, I hid my true self, but then again, I didn’t understand what was going on in the first place, and in such, my true self wasn’t even known to me.  Now that I understand more of what is going on inside my head, I have learned that I have to hide it if I’m ever going to find some resemblance of happiness.  I feel that I will always have to hide who I am, and that saddens me greatly, for if I hide, then it will never be real.  I’ll just be playing a role in the ocean of eternity.

 

At the end of the day I pretend as I lay, lay down to dream for a long winters nap.
I think of a time when oblivion is mine and a hand held in time is the way.
Yet when I wake up the sorrow returns for I am alone all the way.

 

hope

“When all you know are shadows, the smallest spec of hope becomes the brightest light you have ever seen.  Yet in my experience, that light is but a will-o-wisp, leading you deeper into darkness and despair.”

 

Three and a Half

 

Here I am

Nothing but me

Living this life

Of obscurity

Watching the clock

Counting down

Three and a half years

It all goes down

When the money is gone

Say to myself

Time for the end

An end to myself

Spike my vein

Goodbye to this curse

This life that I live

This universe

Then finally escape

From the hollow within

Death of this body

Farewell to sin

Wicked and weak

Been all my life

When the money is gone

End of my strife

But today I am here

Lonely and reverting

Becoming the man

That I was averting

Walking in shoes

Of times long past

Taking and taking

Giving no repasts

All for a moment

To feel I am real

To feel I am wanted

To escape and to steal

A moment of peace

In a world full of chaos

Drinking it in

Never lasts

For at the end of the day

Worthless and weak

Three and a half years

Should be next week.

 

Bad Choices

I take the things I do not want;

Attempt to chase the pain away.

Though I know it’s all a farce;

I do it anyway.

I know my actions lead to sorrow;

Somewhere down the road.

For in the end I know for sure;

She is not my heart.

A moment it is and nothing more;

Repeated time and time again.

Pressed against the shadowed wall;

I take what I please, and give nothing in return.

She is the toy I do not favor;

Something just to pass the time.
Yet in the end I know the truth;

I am still alone.

 

random

Shadows form into figures within the fog;

Gibbering in an unknown tongue

I am watching, yet not afraid.
I hear them, but understand nothing.

I think they are here for me,

I am joyous;

There is an end in sight.
Now I await their chill touch upon my soul;

Draining life; eating pain.
When they are done I shall be free;

This mortal coil finally shed.
Dream of nothing but tomorrow;

Yet it shall be just like today,

Useless and full of sorrow.

 

“Nobody loves a poet in a world full of soldiers”

 

Isolation

Isolation;

Dreams of the past,

Echoing silently through the night.
Memories of greatness lost in the ether of days gone by.

 

Hopeless regression

Today is today;
and nothing more

Sailing far from home.

 

Yet dream I do of past lives

Grasping things that never come
Simple times lost with age

Dancing drinking playing games

All have gone with the flow of time

I am not who I was but am none the less.

The scars of mistakes have shaped this boy

The man who stands before thee

Silent and calm with nothing to lose

The days lay out before me.

 

With age come other thoughts

Of waste and want and glory

Drifting through the age of dreams

With nothing left to show thee.

 

Foreign Shores

Sun fades to red dipping beneath the western edge, far away the children cry.
Dark sky crawling east to west to chase it to the dawn.
Sailors drifting at the whim of the powers left on shore.

Fighting wars on foreign shores, no glory if we win.
Yet here we are; the melting pot; the cops of planet Gaia;

Drifting through the ancient seas, guns prepared to fire.

 

Ghosts

I find myself talking to ghosts, the expectation of response does not exist.  It isn’t the same feeling as being ignored, not anymore, since I know that she reads the words and judges not what I say.

 

She never has.

 

So I continue to write the thoughts and reflections that come to me in the middle of the night, joy and pain; light or dark.  I can close my eyes and see her reading them; crooked smile and dark eyes shining.  A guilty pleasure reaching to her from the past who has never truly let go of the dream they once shared.

 

I write, yet I expect nothing.  I crave her touch even years later; images never truly faded over time come to me in my sleep.  Those who have truly marked me hold this place of honor, for with each one there was something that drew me.  Their intelligence, their charm, their curiosity … she held them all within the palm of her hand, yet had the weakness of self doubt holding her back.

 

Now she lives in a far away place, living a life of her choosing.  Even now she is free in spite of conforming to societies needs, and even now I still miss her.

 

Now I live in this far away place and my mind still dwells within her dark eyes, trapped forever in her smile.