In the Midst

How can something be so beautiful yet so ugly at the same time?

My Anti-Drug

The swirls and twirls, the whisps and curls.
The furls and hurls, the girls and their pearls.

The burns and yearns, and twists and turns.
The churns and ferns, and blissful concerns.

The smokes and chokes, and cloaks and folks.
The jokes and bloaks, the sales on cokes.

The schmucks and yucks, the bucks and chucks.
The sucks and plucks, those lucky fucks.

The hits and quits, the spits and wits.
The glitz and bits, leave the shits and pits.

The trips and flips, the grips on lips.
The chips and sips, the tips from crips.

The cash and hash, the ash and trash.
The smash and stash, the crash with no gash.

The moons and noons, the tunes and coons.
The saloons and spittoons, attract loons and goons.

The grubs and shrubs, the chubs from rubs.
And that wraps up this verse on dubs.

At the Mercy of Loki

Such mishaps couldn't possibly come from my karma.
Perhaps, but I fail to see the connection.
Why is it when I'm minding my own business,
the universe finds it a fine time to make life a bit more grim.
Things happen, and I can't find any particular reason why.
If I'm walking through the woods, and a tree falls on me,
and there's no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?
Perhaps I should move Reverse Karma to the top of my To-Do list.

Reflections in the Glass

I pass by the open door, and at a quick glance
I could have sworn it was him.
Your manner is unforgettable, even with a new voice.
A joke told before, by someone so similar.
Even though you are far, your presence feels near,
I even find it in myself, as a constant reminder.

We're yelling and arguing again,
but I swear I hear her.
Stubborness like that is unmistakeable,
even when accompanied by sensibility.
A deju vu manifested, over and over again.
Putting distance between us is futile,
No matter where I turn, I'll always have to face you.

I look in the mirror, and see a reflection,
one with dark hair and dark eyes.

The Other Day

I realized how passive I really am.

You were right of course.


There's so much to say, but the words escape me.
So many unanswered questions, but where to start?
So much to explain, if only it could be understood.

I'm so tired. I should just do what I do best, and hold my tongue.

Shoot the Messenger

"Finding myself". I hate that phrase. To me, it describes nothing, and it is far too cliche, offering only an excuse. Alas I find myself using this phrase for lack of a better one. I am a creature who is misunderstood, but then again what else is new?

Therapists must be so frustrated with themselves at times. What a curse, to understand why you are the way you are, but not being able to do anything about it. I'm sorry. It's not easy to change one's character, please afford me the same patience I do for you. Do not think any less of me, please, just give me time. Alas time is often a luxury I do not have.

I cannot change what is out of my control, I can only do my best to ease the pain. You are however too busy with your troubles to see mine. I suppose mine aren't as important as yours, or perhaps I am not noble enough to be worthy of your time. I say this with both sarcasm and forlorn truth. I just can't do anything right, I always seem to fuck it up. I deserve it. I can't help but cry though.

I'm always walking on eggshells. That's probably why I'm so twitchy. I didn't want to be another statistic or a burden. That's probably why you think I'm acting mature. I feel so helpless. That's probably why I'm so controlling. I have been ignored so much. That's probably why you think I'm annoying. I absolutely hate upsetting you. That's probably why I walk away. I am always wrong.

That truly hurts.

"Back to Basics with Jesus"

When people put titles before their own personal judgement, they stop thinking and start believing.

Only God can judge me.

To be continued...