I-Am-Zem

A woman stood in front of me today. A fearsome one. She wore a beautiful suit of armor. Its artistry only outdone by its majesty. It was truly a magnificent thing. It appeared simultaneously impenetrable and graceful. Not an inch of her human form was visible while she wore her armor. Covered and protected from head to toe. Her face, which I was forced to assume carried the same captivating quality as her dressings, Was covered by a fearsome and elegant helmet. In my awe, I didn't see her movement, As she slowly tore away what obscured my view of her face. A slight breeze picked up her long locks of blond hair as she dropped the c

Laying in bed, Devoid of emotion. Burnt out from stress. Anxiety. Voices that aren't real. Horrific visions. Fear of speech. Inability to speak. Praying for the release of unconscious I know will not come. My hell on earth. Sleep would be comfort. The comfort of being apart. Apart from this consciousness that does little but torture. There is true comfort in sleep. The world could fall apart. I wouldn't care. Surrounded happily by dreams of a better day, That only serve to add. Add to the pain of knowing happiness is only possible then. Only possible in the sweet ignorance of dreaming. My niece is but a week old. I envy

It's easy for you to say, That I'll be okay. It's easy for you to breathe, You don't share my panic. It's easy for you to smile, You're not the one being replaced. It's easy for you to breathe, You don't feel the loss. There is a disconnect. You were upset by the way I had to react. There is a disparity. You have another shoulder. I'm having trouble coping, Years of emotional erosion degrading my formerly strong shoulders. No longer can problems be solved by letting them roll away. This self destruction isn't by choice. When there is no foundation to support the walls, It'll all come down. It's easy for you to be indignant.

I wasn't meant to be a poet. Words, to me, mean nothing. They are simply hints at emotion. I spend idle time listening to music, longing for the ability to create beyond text. Clumsy hands and an inconsistent voice do not lend themselves to good music making. Music speaks to the soul. Music is emotion. Music is what the soul speaks in. Words cannot come close, Because at the end of the day, They're just thoughts. Just fucking words on a page. Yet this is how my soul speaks. Emotionless, cold words. Just fucking words on a page.

I wish I could trust. (Just smile and pretend) Trust that intentions can be pure. Trust that love exists. Trust that the floor will fulfill it's purpose. (Hope it doesn't move) Trust requires understanding. Understanding requires knowledge. Knowledge requires time, Time spent in consideration. (Can't afford to stop) Motion must be maintained. Slowing allows weakness and vulnerability. (Don't get attached) The trouble is the difference between comedy and tragedy. (Keep your distance) Looking through a telescope, Looking through sunglasses. (Apart and detached) This defense is absolute, save for one opponent. The most vile a

When I was a child, I sat in a pristine and gleaming examination room. Tears streaming down my cheeks, to rest silently on the perfect floor. The puppy I had loved and cared for was falling asleep. It was a better option than to leave her to die in agony at the hands of her failing organs. Years have passed. More than I care to remember. My school years came and went, I even earned my high school diploma. I have held jobs, both successful and not. I have been in relationships, not all of which were complete failures. Through it all, though, I am still here. Everything hurts, Everything aches. The smallest rut an impassable barrier

I look to Christmas this year With a heavy heart. When I sat down to list the things I wanted this year, The list I came up with was dissapointing. A jacket, A sweatshirt, jeans. These are not things that you normally find on Christmas lists. I sought to find something more exciting I wanted. An iPod, with a large hard drive? I could fit my vast collection of movies and music on it. No. A new computer? I could get one better than current. One that could do more, and do it faster. Still no. I realized then that I was avoiding saying what I really wanted. Because it's foolish. Because it's irrational. Because it's impossible.

My mind is not capable of happiness. All I ever find is distress. Having hope only opens me up to emptiness. Whispers of thoughtfulness, Only lead to times of thoughtful disinterest. I can't be intersted in this life, Or anything beyond. My pain, My loneliness. Always hidden behind an apathetic yawn. The hole I fit into doesnt exist. Believing in existence is the shortest path to being a nihilist. Nihilism. Lack of all, constant. Perpetually losing hope in breathing. Breathing only makes way for another futile breath. Breathing only makes room for more lack. Lack of living, There exists only exhaling. Inhaling is impossible

Learning to live, Learning to breathe. Learning to hope, Learning to dream. Learning the difference between drunk sincerity, And an inebriated change of heart. Learning to respond to noncommittal affection in kind, But loving it the entire time. Learning that life exists beyond facts and figures, Beyond the wavering ideals of those who think they know. Learning to create, to build. Stopping the destruction that leaves lives unfulfilled. As creatures with hearts and minds and souls, There is much learning to be done. Many things can be taught in textbooks. But with these, I find, After the examination, After the hours of frustr

I'm tired, Of being cold and alone. Running in circles Confused Just trying to find home. Home. Where is such a place? What would be there for me? Warmth, food, a friendly face? Would I be welcome?