Departed trail & Bitter trials.

Off this winding way spiraling down hell like a rehearsed drive without a hearse, flatline feels like waking calls to check in on me like I’m dead. Look in talented sophistication as I turn to the men that are capable cannibals that eat themselves in despair. I didn’t lather them in soft tasting scents for the wolves nor hold the leashes, you should know it’s true? You’ve known the cries of canaries and harpies more than the pity of angels your whole life, because he doesn’t love me; but all the while you adored me. I don’t cripple headstones and erase cultures by the gargantuan leaps of gentrification with the feather Indians and those with any black skin.

Low end middle finger to the global turning of deeds of bad men. I’ve always known I was here for you. Don’t you see me standing in front of you in the heat of the day, in the cold filled and sometimes empty night sky, also in the times your body was just another weight on your shoulder. This is how much you loved me, coming when the angels leave, when canaries cry, and when the fantasies end I’m walking into your eyes. Don’t you feel me when the flames have come, the comfort before the wolves getting me , strength against enemies at their hands.”

Put a new dawn in the core of my fingers so I know some warmth as I press on the pages on  legacy in hand when drawing you up and to me. The coruscating or sparkling dust about your prudent eyes that I never knew that gaze. I only know the walk of corner movements of monsters in my cornea sides. It’s not like you to tell me a story and not like me to stop singing a list of beautiful things to keep swearing a sheet of blessings to go against the danger that might come our way. In tell the wise men and thieves thriving under repentance to your words; thus you bring salvation out like shoulders unfurled of stress filled wings weighing me down, my personal angel. Messy messages about an eclipse blotting out my stars and God like it’s uplifting hollow insides of demons.

But Immediately the spirit takes over me like a magical magnet pulling out light that pierces the hanging black moon; which releases the things that meant to loom over head as heaven knocks back. Let me love you back as you rest my world. Now and forever past the foretold night I fell in your fiery that conceived between us in a combustible bleach that snarls before washing us clean. Painted places fill the void between us and our love. If such things weren’t here then maybe I could have you for real. 

The confidence that is wielded at the beginning of my story is an unrealistic picture of how in my own traits, abilities, or smiles. I held a definition by my own negativity and thus holds no identity without it. Since ink and paper brought me a gift to bring some love or really some attention to my life, this now insight shifts the meaning of myself. Left emotionally devastated by loss and struggles to define my own identity. I just didn’t know anything else. 

I’m just a phrase, I was like a newborn elk dropped from the womb and my body painted in my mother’s blood and flesh. Each sense tingled under any distinguishable feeling that could relate to my past life, the dark hash of brown fog, and light was recognized as a new world in my infant eyes that brimmed with pain, straining to place identity to things. Each muscle I used was met with difficulty because of my novice skills in using proper strength, it was more evident when I interacted with not just my body but my life. Unlike the analogy of an elk where within minutes its legs moved forward with an uneven walk, the fresh springs of new muscles and with lanky limbs it moved forward; I stayed clinging to any that would carry me. 

Was I ambitious or just ruthless, when in only confidence. I can’t leave my life to be lived this way without her. The enemy keeps his hand around my neck and hangs me upside; so whatever I cherish pours away from me. Cracks are appearing down my body and I know I won’t like my descendent place here in hell. I’ll shatter so easily without her recycling me and giving me a new life filled with your word.

I had popped open once and my fizzy lifting drink caught the air like helium; I was empty. Treated poorly by others and taken out in a timely manner. I’ll come to her again to be of use when all others declare me filth, garbage, a waste of empty space. But in the dark sunshine an embrace of light comes full circle in an eclipse. By grace I was given you but I was afraid of such a perfect figure with granted life opposite of what I never known since birth that grew with me with rotten dreams.

Things that a childhood shouldn’t be enslaved to consistent poverty and threats of homelessness after tasting hotel rooms for months after evictions. By grace I was given her but I was so afraid of such an unbefitting angel given to a wretch like me; what’s more than this self proclaimed destruction of my own words that are deadlier than my hands giving me more scars that won’t end my life like I tried before. At your worst you’ll be the best of all those standing at the heavens arching gates that let come to me. I’m the worst at my best as it’s to be cursed like I’ve grown completely comfortable in like a pig in mud. By grace I was given you; yet I was overwhelming afraid by the mirrors I put up to see how ugly I am when a portrait of beauty showed me that faults made the impeccable imperfections of self, can I be loved by someone giving me a whole heart when I have lost over and over the blood that needs to pump with a heart gone cold.

By grace I was given you but I fear takes me in like a blanket that I falsely think gives me warmth when I gave you up for something I was unsure by; please forgive and come back to me. Spent my time in ferocious flower beds. No tattoos on my skin but I scratch myself like I know the million pricks that itch a fiend. Dazed and producing fire on my ego to humble myself to something non existing. Slip my constant conscious to a pedigree of revere to the homeyness split of body, self, and soul clicking perfectly.

Pour the freshly staining ointment on my head then call me your majesty as I seat close to God. Modernist or futurist of David whose walking below bleak giants who are darker shadows than they cast. I want to rip myself apart like papers and robes of my inheritance. Dying next me are steal shackles that I need to stay tied down. Outside my eyes is fearful things that can harm me like those beds of viper beauties.

I wish your love never left me. I wish not to make mistakes as you watch me. Please collect my body if it falls before the trails before me. Don’t dismiss your love in angry nor give into the pain I’ve brought you. Don’t recount anything that is better than what I’m capable of giving.

Hypnotized by our shared enemies words; left more scars upon us by me showing attention. I wish I could return to you without shame or guilt.  My life in dark hours, my hand in troubled oceans, and an up lifting grace when I’m breaking at times. Please forgive me for being so selfish, being so vane, and being an under measuring house of human worth; which is worthless. I wish I didn’t have to be this far from you; which were caused by my own miss decision.

Also by the loud programming to self harm. Honestly I want to died and met you, smell you, and grip your hands in to my own. I know you would be very sad on that day; but I can’t hold myself right. I’ve messed up. Again just like last time in the same places and in the same steps.

Deceitful eyes, I wish for a witness that watches me fill with guilt. Wrap myself in my own venom that no one else can change or save me from. A cooling momentum that moves in the tracks on my neck as I scratch my skin and leave scars. State a fact, I’m scared to live and have everything taken away from me. I claim the romance of life but I’m losing it in my own hand; it’s all a reality when we say it’s an overwhelming horrific tear dropper, that fills the ears with a boiling heat.

Listen to music to fade into the beat without touching the smoke that makes us feel safe. I want to feel safe. I’m somewhat familiar with my work that sounds beautiful and peaceful about a black and white living, like it’s a wonderful life. Lay me down with the grieving dead. I let the devil get a footing to the earth and walk around me like a winter coat I breathe in; that close and all to keep me warm.

Cold sweat on my neck again, I scrap those drops with the cricked nails I scratch with. I’m not the type to rig my self into a tight skin skeleton. I like the hefty ones as I know no one wants it or me. Again I look down on myself and look out of sight. Pity, pity; pity.

Can I say I don’t like it or enjoy it when I think or misguidedly compare it to love; which I hardly know. It’s easy for others to say and point out what I am when I myself find it hard and difficult to find myself as anything. I’m becoming a victim to my heart problems; which are emotions. I wish I could kill it all including myself. Okay, okay; okay.

I again misguide my family to think I’m okay. Hi beautiful sister that are in heaven. Can I dream of you again and I promise not to act hardly at your presence. My dreams are all the more special when you’re with me. I at least can believe you are still loving and with me spiritually.

Pray, pray; pray. I want to pray to you like an angel that can protect me like you always have in the past. I believe in you more than I believe in myself; what is wrong with me in that sense. I need to move forward but can only think about your grace that lay now in a grave. Haunting is your touch over me.

Breathe, breathe; breathe. I tell myself I can move on but why can’t I make the first movement. Rolling past me are the others in this marathon of long living grief for you. I’m stuck cold in my tracks trying to warm myself up with the devils sweet grip that holds me like you had. Temptation on my life is easy while fending it off is difficult. And I mean that one particular temptation is all the more tempting.

Lose, lose; lose. That’s all I’m good for. Now I wonder if I’ve done something that keeps me alive and going. But I can’t see it now or organized my thoughts into a clip show to see the images of a life worth counting on. I wish I could compare this desire to anything my family could know and save me from myself because they have a better idea what I’m going through. Please don’t whip me with lash words.

Please reap my issues and kill myself loathing. Take the time to rid me of my own demons and what are my hindrances that keep out your light. I don’t know why I’m like this; so afraid yet so willing to pass away by my own accord. I don’t wish to write my death but I can’t help think of it.

Where, where; where. I question where my mind is and even what way my heart beats it questionable habits. Why can’t I become better? Please help me, please save me, please protect me once again my sunflower.