This is cross posted off my myspace.
But I had a night of nonstop writing last night and it seems wrong to keep it to myself.

My feet follow one in front of the other, though it doesn't feel a thing like walking, for walking implies a movement of some sort. This city doesn't allow progress. On every corner I see a piece of myself, a memory that hides deep in the crevices of my mind. I witness the ugliness and I welcome it, it consumes me. We all know the curse of the familiar, the solace pain gives. Tonight, it is mine. I dwell on the aspects of me I find most hideous, I create monsters of myself in my head to make excuses for my unforgivable flaws. I hold still as I wait for any positive emotion to leave my body. I take the pills to slow my heart and feel it all slipping away. I fear nothing. I stare death in the face, I don't flinch. I welcome it to willingly. Willingly enough to shake me when sobriety hits me in the morning. The stars don't even feel honest anymore. I don't trust a goddamn thing but them, and now even that's too much. The leaves blowing in the wind strangely resemble the laughter of my demons, mocking me. They're under my skin again and they know it. I feel them crawling there, under my scars, it takes a stiff drink to feel any touch on top of them. They're impressive. They caress his favorite spots, with such dignity for acts so harshly impure. I am a monster, hiding under a pretty smile and brilliant eyes. I want to tear open my chest. I want the blade but one slice could never suffice, not tonight. Not one limb or even one body. So I'll take the rest of my pills and hope my weak heart makes it through tonight, and perhaps some healing could take place in my dreams. For if it doesn't, I shall not fear tomorrow night either. I'd rather not die just yet, but I need a reason to live. I just want to wake up without hating my eyes for allowing me to see, or loathing my lungs for allowing me to breathe. I want to erase everything that has happened before today. I want a clean slate. Every smile and every tear torments me so, I stay awake all night just to prove I can make it on my own. Just to scream, you can't kill me yet. What good is this life when I'm constantly hiding, aching, bleeding? Where is the purpose here? I feel it, I know it, I fake such beautiful smiles every day. I lie through my teeth and everyone falls for it. Like I just changed over night, like I have seen some nonexistent light. It disgusts me with them, for believing such blatant falsehoods, but more so with myself for being able to wear this mask so convincingly.

I cannot believe
In a world
That allowed you to leave
Me
Defenseless
Unprotected
Vulnerable
They chewed me up
Spit me out
Like the wretched whore
They all loved
But You
Where are you?
It cannot be
The man who saw more
So easy
Abandoning me
I cannot breathe
Instead I bleed
It doesn't matter
You'd be
So disgusted
With what has become of
Me
You're not here
You left me alone
I keep wandering
Stumbling
Never finding my home
You took it along
When the sky lifted you up
If I die tonight
Can I return to your arms?
The only place
I have ever belonged



I think your beauty may just derive
From all your heart refuses to see
Your demons cripple you
Making it so easy to use you
My eyes, they lie
Oh, Don't be so arrogant my love
Not even my careless deceit
Will ever be for you alone
Of course, I do feel love
But haven't you heard?
That has never been enough
Though I do find it quite precious
You think it could be valid
This time around, with you and me
Strong as you are you'll never change me
Your infatuation blinds you from seeing
This wickedness that has been breeding
In this haunted heart so long
You're so desperate
From lovers come and passed
You won't even see it coming..
When I leave you broken on the floor
I may shed a tear
Even in spite you still won't see
These tears could only ever be
Out of hatred
For this imprisoned soul could never feel anything more
I'll thrive on your kisses, your embrace, admiration
Until one day.. I'll stop
Then I'll thrive on your torment
For when I abandon your side
It's all you will have forsaken
I'll hate you
Ya know, I expect I already do
For not being strong enough
To keep me in one goddamn place
But until then..
I give you hope
I give you my dreams
Until you prove no better than the rest
Then I'll destroy you
And lick my lips doing so
The only truth I've ever told
.. Maybe



When we make Art of any kind, it is merely an embellishment of the tiniest human emotions. It is not a coincidence that Photographers see all this beauty everywhere, they don't, they just capture it better than the rest of it. It is not a coincidence that Musicians fall so passionately in love, they don't, they just express that key emotion in a whole slew of ordinary relationships. It is not a coincidence Writers are the saddest, most passionate people you will ever know. They have a drug called language that they mold to fit their needs at the time. As we all do to everything around us. There is no beauty in Art. There is simply a weak, human desire to make more out of the emptiness of our pitiful day to day.
So if I can fall in love and write something beautiful about it, the pain surrounding every embrace and every kiss will fade away when it is written or read. I can be vindictive and write something about having no soul to speak of and suddenly it's beautiful and courageous, it's Art. Well it isn't.
Art lies in the few moments that come between all the torment that fills this utterly pointless life. Art is when the rare times consume us that we feel no pressure to create Art. Art comes from the lack of Art.
Art is fiction. So are we.

This is me at my darkest. These thoughts do not represent my philosophies on life in any way. This is me at my most cynical. But it's still a piece of me. I dare you to give a fuck.