Conceit

Laying awake for no other reason than thoughts of you dancing in my mind.  Restless passing yet no change of season trapped in darkness, loneliness.

Blinded by truths too terrible to speak, thus I do not inquire within. Terrified of the one answer I long to overt for eternity; Not good enough for you to love.

As thoughts dance from one to the next, confusing illusions break through in fragments. I hear your words, so why do I not believe those that escape beautiful lips on sweet breath?

Could it be actions thought hidden believing I could not possibly know what deeds are conducted under mine very eyes? Conceit sir, to believe me so gullible.

Yet, on my knees I’m once again begging for approval from someone obsessed with others. Are my imperfections so intolerable? Can I not be the world to you?

Understanding grows more distant as the night wans, malevolence oozes into my soul changing sweetness into bitterness. Love me! Love ME!

Put them all away, all for me as life waits for no one and will best you if not paying attention. Utter not a whisper nor message through space of those yet not met.

Worth it all to be happy as two are meant to be or so it should be. Deliver me from this ill-contempt, help me keep going as breathing starts to become impossible.

Craving a savior, wishing with all the broken pieces of my heart that it be you. Oh please let it be you! Life imagined without love is terrible so to that must be my cure.

Dejected

English: Sorrow Français : La Tristesse(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Time goes by so quick and yet I’m stranded in a moment of it as if trapped in an eternal loop of despair. Anchored by the past leaving me unable to move forward, so I struggle through each day anticipating its defeat as the hour of darkness casts its shadow upon me. Each evening I’m abandoned by the protection of daylight, encased in loneliness and left to dwell within scarred and tormented thoughts.

This has been the norm of my existence, if that’s what you want to call it, for some time now. Emotionally crippled, I master the art of pretend. Acting normal when I’m in the presence of others and putting off breaking down for when I’m alone. And alone I am left with the question of why. It appears I am the butt end of the cruelest joke God has dispensed.

There are those who believe that their sole purpose in life is to watch over me to make sure that I keep breathing, so to speak. What they do not realize is that breathing hurts. Every breath acquired into my lungs burns like acid. I want to scream with all of my might until someone puts me out of my misery. Instead, any ounce of pain shown makes them want to help all the more.

There are too many pieces of my broken heart to ever be put back together again. My soul is tortured and silent screams echo in my ears that drown out all logic.

Cipher

At The Edge Of Nothingness

Brooches decorate though not flatter,

Even less than the krone.

Tossed away broken no chooser to single me out,

Used as beech my heart taken by a rook.

Heartbreak comes as no shocker,

By those settled up on the knobs.

The core of my existence shattered,

No hero but in a story book that neither cheers nor saves.

Head bows as the censer is prepared,

No screen for protection as my soul suffers.

No Words

Imagine looking at a blank page knowing there should be some form of expression gracing that empty mass, instead your left feeling inadequate. Sitting there glaring at that vacant space you begin to doubt yourself as you think, “So this is it then. I have officially reached the end of my ingenuity.” And then, hopelessly you put down your medium and sigh in defeat as the void shrouds your sanity.

Frustration grabs hold as colossal amounts of information swarm your psyche while urgently attempting to breach the prison your mind has become. The cursor just blinks, over and over driving you to the brink of madness. All the more, it’s stifling the creativeness you posses as the void becomes the death of all that was once obtainable.

Contemplating the end of a brilliant career when suddenly reality hits you like a ton of bricks; it’s not a lack of creativity on your part that besieges you in nothingness.  Lucidity reveals a much simpler answer, the funnel has become clogged with too many words trying to escape all at the same time.

New hope emerges as you tackle this newfound dilemma. Music fills the air with a welcome distraction, curtains are swung open allowing the brilliant sunshine to encase you in its warmth, and a piece of dark chocolate lingers on your palate bringing you great joy as you let go of your pessimistic attitude.

You once again let your fingers to glide over the keypad. Subsequently sweet victory liberates your very essence as beautiful sentences come into view right before your very eyes. Words, words, and more words appear on the screen, leaving not one moment for that cursor to irritably blink at you. 

Pleased with the progress made as the day comes to its untimely end, you stretch while slowly getting up. Sometimes, we creative types need to stop and take a break when overwhelmed. You will accomplish nothing when you’re riddled with anxiety and frustration.

 So next time the writer’s block has you ready to burn your desk to the ground, just unplug for a bit and do whatever it is that you do to relax and unwind.