I take the devil out of its box.
To make a big stand.
the ancients disregard the plan.
They do not hold me aloft.
hold me beneath.
I am only stones and bones.
A misguided sage song.
The ancients know…
I can only bequeath one.
And, one lust only.
Decadence for thoughts that are forever lonely.
Don’t compare your insides with someone else’s outsides.
When I look at my life I see high-water marks of happiness and I see the lower places where I had to convince myself that suicide wasn’t an answer. And in between I see my life. I see that the sadness and tragedy in my life made the euphoria and delicious ecstasy that much more sweet. I see that stretching out my soul to feel every inch of horrific depression gave me more room to grow and enjoy the beauty of life that others might not ever appreciate. I see that there is dust in the air that will eventually settle onto the floor to be swept out the door as a nuisance, but before that, for one brilliant moment I see the dust motes catch sunlight and sparkle and dance like stardust. I see the beginning and the end of all things. I see my life. It is beautifully ugly and tarnished in just the right way. It sparkles with debris. There is wonder and joy in the simplest of things.
Ironic, the emotions are no different on the other side.
Having subsisted in the great pretense of…someone else.
when the floods rushed upon me.
It had always been torment that I felt.
the closet door,
love was a feast in which I dined.
Hate a rapturous offender.
Dissidence for a bi-lateral kind.
I bleed now.
As I did,
before the open closet door.
as before the open closet door.
Please to meet you…
I am no different from before.