psychoems

[psychoems]

Spiderwebs over Starry Night

Spiderwebs over Starry Night. A masterpiece in itself Casting intricate shadows on the moon. The wind seeming to lift from the canvas To weave through the pattern.

Mother spider stands guard Feasting on the flies I let in when I enter The room, dark and desolate as it is. Allowing a protective embrace of the village sleeping peacefully below which I now seem to be painted into. Trapped inside oil forever Deep within the confines of one painter’s Wild imagination. Unaware of my own lack of physicality. Each stroke of the night reminiscent of the very Pillars of Creation. Prominent as the moon and stars Peeking their presence through. Spray painted with the neon glow of hope, As lost as it may be. As lost as I may be. Reality long forgotten As blues slowly turn to violet Almost as though blood had seeped through paint. Had I even slept? I had lingered far too long Under the web of Her Calling out for anyone else who may exist With me here. Never a response Though I was aware I was not alone. Only upon thoughts of retreat Do I hear it - A gust of wind Relinquishing the faintest whisper With a beckon for me to stay longer. It sings of possibilities. Of future. Of love.

Everything could fall into place, Yet your piece remains missing.

One decision to stay Again But my company is gone. I am left amongst my madness And emotional delirium. My need to leave  Waned out by my need to feel. Escape is necessary this time. These buildings are long retired. And the lights within them have Tempted me with empty promises One too many times.

However difficult it will be For me to finally rip through This art Has marked me as much. My soul needs the rest.

My heart needs the rest. Four words etched underneath it all Forever left unsaid:

“I Love You Too”

[psychoems]

I feel alone.

My soul is one

without a tether.

My body but a loan,

skin stretched like leather

over bones

that shake

when all is calm

and a heart

thats etched

with lines of the palm.

My mind

is my own,

but its not worth a damn

cause it is quite prone

to drowning itself.

Shown love

once

but was proven a sham,

A tainted

black trophy

to place on the shelf.

Hidden away

So the feelings

wont burden.

I’ll visit one day

if I can

pull back that curtain.

Til then

I pretend

to be someone

I’m not.

Maybe half hoping

that I might be

caught

I take out a loan

pieced together

by fate:

One heart

of a man

which has conquered

Hate,

The hands of a mother

as she holds her

firstborn,

Arms of a fighter

tattooed and torn,

Eyes of a blind man

that must sense what he sees,

Hips of a gypsy

determined to please.

Feet of a runner

that will not stay

still,

and the guts of a gambler

in time for the bill.

With the mind of a child

creative in thought,

Here is the vessel

which luck has brought.

My true soul

shines through

every once in a blue

presenting itself

in times it is wrong.

Allowing me

to feel as if I belong.

[psychoems]

Birthday Gift: 2020

These woods feel all too familiar. The pull of the trees, the density. All of the emotions that come with the temptation of shadows. I sense them all with seamless similarity. However, The bark of these tall pines is much thicker than on the ones I am used to. And the leaves of these sycamore hold more weight as if they hold more knowledge. I fear watchful eyes upon me Of the creatures who have named this sacred place their home And in the distance, I hear the feint whisper of a river whistling along with the wind through the endless branches. Somehow, this manages to restrain my nerve. My decision to follow leads me to a roaring creek. Peeking to my left, I imagine what might have instigated such tremendous rapids, What was the incentive to push on? I am met without answer. Left to ponder the true catalyst of momentum Yet unwilling to explore the path, considering that that particular ground might not be meant for my boots. I turn once more to the river and allow it to command my attention. I follow the motions of each short breaking wave the currents create. My eyes fall on a small pile of rocks. As I asses my surroundings, I begin to determine rock formations Designing some sort of trail to follow. So I do. These small rocks growing larger as I follow them close to the creek, My sight never leaving their pattern. Until one breaks that pattern. Crashing upon one larger stone. A grave rather. The name of which cracked and worn out, But I investigate more closely. To discover the name of one “young will” not-so noticeably etched into marble. The lack of grass surrounding him leaves me to feel uneasy yet again. I do not recognize the destruction that must have happened here. Trees bend more wildly than would seem possible Cold chills still winding their way around them And any sign of beauty smoked away by shade. Certainly a variation from my own personal woods. My focus returns to young will. The possibilities. To deserve an ill-treated headstone such as this one. Behind which sits a mighty tree. The only green life that seems to be around. One weeping willow I notice for the first time even as it guards over this mans soul. Its long lingering leaves lean off of strengthened branches. Protecting. The marked grave rings in my ears almost pleading with me to feel. Placing my hand on it, My palm is met with a dry coldness. I take a moment to respect him beneath me. Just one moment as something catches my glance. An owl, in clear daylight, Joins me in mourning the lost memories of he who walked this path previously.  The owls unnerving stare serves as a warning. It is time to move on.

I continue down the stream. Following its growing force. More rocks, greater in size. To the point where I must journey atop No longer fitting around. My climb leads me to yet another willow. This ones roots growing out towards the water. One striving leafed beauty sits lopsided amongst the rocks and the rapids. As if striving for safety, but still yet to recognize the danger. Had it managed to form this way on its own? Acknowledging that I may appear deranged, I decide to gently cry out a “hello”. Though I did not expect a response, the tree sways a tad Though no wind presented the motive. I smile and continue on.

Dirt turns to thriving grass. Large rocks turn to even larger monoliths. I find my way over each as if invited to a challenge. The river I note now far below me. Its pounding rhythm still beating through my temples. Or is that my heartbeat? I ponder this a minute or two before I smell new air. Fresh air. I look up and see .... Everything. It appears to just be everything. Foliage and geography uncomprehendable. The vast expansion of earth. I feel as though I conquered a mountain with yet one more willow to greet me at the top. This one the largest of the three I have seen. This time, something written on its skin. A simple symbol carved into its bark. The number 3. I run my fingers over the number to find the ridges so deep it invokes a comforting feeling. A wooden chest solemnly stands at my feet, Appearing to be locked. I  try it anyway Hoping to learn more on the aura who owns this forest. However, I am deterred But by the coo of an owl. The same owl Captures my gaze. Although it regards me less firmly now Almost as if beckoning me to open the chest. And so l do. Finding it unlocked. Soon it will consume me, Eventually absorbing me into the soil that now covers my skin. Darkness offering an odd form of safety.

After a beat, I awake in more familiar territory. My flowers just a bit skewed from those of His. I wander my own path carved out well by these boots. Until a small new sprout attracts my eye. A young Willow. Now breaking through the richness of vines, Fresh roots bringing the same fresh smell I had taken breath of earlier. Even yet strong as the toughest Oak. I had not planted this, Or atleast I had not remembered. Could I have done this unaware? This beast of a sapling seemingly here for more than just a few days A feeling of calmness rushes over me as I take out my knife, I carefully carve the number 3 into its rough bark.

[psychoems]

He saw her pass him with a smile thinking she was better off without him, but she had heard his song and was only smiling at the memories of him.

[psychoems]

Glastic

I hold plastic but spy glass on the shelf. A couple cracks, here or there, which it tried to fix itself. The plastic feels weightless, worthless, fake. Glass carries burdens for all but it’s own sake. Beauty at the core; Vivid dimensions escape through the cracks in the glass, but remain within shape. Lifeless plastic bends and breaks Where glass  succumbs only when shattered. Which makes the risk all that much more powerful. While plastic is much more reliable, to the chill of glass it is powerless.

[psychoems]

*

[psychoems]

* I’m Sorry

It didn’t take long for you to find them. The strings you could play that would make my heart feel .... Something. Anything. Everything was exposed.* You ignored my scars as if  You were all too familiar with their repulsiveness. The more you made me feel unmarked, The more you became enclosed.*

My wounds healed with your patience, My heart no longer seared my bones You suddenly found yourself trapped inside While my heart felt reposed.*

It didn’t take long for you to rip them back open. The stitches that held everything together again. You cut through me, With a need to escape. My love smothering, True love disposed.*

Your love An unsavory raw emotion, Leaving a fault felt within And a desire to abandon.

Why can I not simply feel  What my heart says I am supposed to.*

[psychoems]

The danker the room, The darker it feels. Weighing him down As demons nip at his heels. He lights up a match And is faced with his mess. The flame whispers to the walls All he will not confess. Igniting a cig In hopes of relief, Burns out the match; Darkness offers more release. His way out once clear, Now fogged with bad judgement. Locked doors gaurding treasures That he's deemed unfit. The path so familiar, Yet he soon can't remember. No fear of the beast For all but his guilt was surrendered. Like Pan in his Labyrinth, He senses the way. Each choice that he makes Possessing its own night and day. Freedom with one step, Damnation in two. Any more than that And he is certainly doomed. One Right turn, But it's not truly right. While deep in the shadows Waits something ready to fight. Cornered by false hope In a tragic deadend It greets him with a snarl And starts to descend. Reminders of truth, The walls begin humming. He faces his past Cause he is tired of running. Memories swirl As they beat into him. Condemning him to a life Being part of the ruin. A crack in the wall, A drop of sunshine. Tossed and broken, He'll stand one more time. Glimpse through the light And meets the end of the walls. While yesterday fades, Reflections roam the halls. He himself built this maze Like a challenge to his psyche, But it's simply a distraction From a life that might be.

[psychoems]

Wicked Whore

I see you for what you are, An enhanced version of a dying star. The free spirit of a woman With one thousand hearts, And each one of them soiled With bruises and marks. A caged bird broke free, Still stuck in the house. Determined to be Filled with self-doubt. When the monarch can fly, Yet just for the day. You can seduce any one man on earth, But you cannot make him stay. Your soul always seems To come with a frost. Your whole spirit beams From its love of loss. Keep crystals in your pocket And always remember, The choices one makes Won't always affect you forever.

[psychoems]

ode to the moon; you are my guidance.  my assistance and my counselor.  lead me onward down the path you shine your light.  i will follow.  just as you had and always have stalked me.  stayed behind me, but never hidden.  you have shown yourself.  always. as a child, i needed you.  when i felt lost or broken, all that i had to do was search.  those long car rides where i looked out my window to see your angelic glow.  you were always there for me.  to comfort me.  allowing me to get lost in your beauty.  i named you.  forever being called my guardian.  only leaving your throne during the daytime.  where the sun would take your place, but could never replace.  the feelings of serenity that you lent to me every starry night were unrelenting  and i fell for them every time.  the way you manipulated your shape for several nights  would flaunt the way that i felt.  my mood.  in this, i found peace.  you have been my follower my entire life.  guiding me.  assisting me.  offering me advice.  You are my mentor. you are my gaurdian.

6/25/2010

[psychoems]

She was full of heaven, But stuck living in hell. Condemned there By a man she thought She knew well. He, unlike her, Saw the world on a platter. Where she fell upon rope, He climbed up the ladder.

She was pure essence, With a long-lasting smile. Though he simply banished it Without a fair trial. He brought hellfire with him When he returned from the pit And her visions of heaven Began to bend violently And twist.

It all turned to ash, But she knew her true Destination. That one feeling She could only ever reach Through complete meditation. Until then, she meets With the sinful Deadly Seven. While he remains full of hell And living in heaven.

[psychoems]

Dependence

Write my name On your cigarette Just to watch As you inhale me. Your words Taste of roses But your thoughts Are what impale me. Am I truly That beneath you? Can you not Rely on me? I guess the bottom Of your shoe Will be the only Soul ill see. I feel the pain You think I cant I know thats what Connects us. And in your heart You must know That love Is what protects us. So kindle your Tolerance now If that is Whats preferred. Becoming your Addiction Is how my own Will ever be cured.

[psychoems]

(EARLY UNFINISHED WORK):

SQUISH! my best is gone CRASH! the lightning steals my dawn DAMN! these people do not know me WAIT! thats all I do, you see?

I grow more, and I live on. The sun reappears once the thunder is gone. One friends gives me a relating look. I finally learned something from reading a book

~ part three ~

[psychoems]

(EARLY UNFINISHED WORK):

I am the tree with its skin all rough I am the storm that thinks it is tough. I am the moment of bliss after the first puff I am that motivating smile when you say you’ve had enough.

Why must you take my finest apple? Why cant you see the wonder in my rain? Why dont you take just one more hit? Why are you in so much pain?

~ part two ~

[psychoems]

(EARLY UNFINISHED WORK):

It’s like taking the most   luscious apple from the tree And throwing it to the ground   to step on it.

It’s like you see the best   things in the clouds, But then a storm carries over and   it all turns to shit.

It’s like you are smoking the   best joint in the world And then  you look up and    see the worsts ones around.

It’s like you are trying to be   happy When there is no happiness   to be found.

~ part one ~

[psychoems]

(EARLY UNFINISHED WORK):

You dont love me. You only love the person I let   you see. The rest is kept buried Living with the past that I   have carried. There is so much more To this girl that you adore, But it is so rare to see   a flower grow Through the cracks in the floor. I hope you understand Why it is wrong to bare   your brand. You have no idea who I am You truly dont know me at all. The way I look to the moon Because I feel so small. No matter how much I beg   and plea I dont believe that youll ever   be able to see That you dont love me ...

How could you be in love with half a life?

[psychoems]

(EARLY UNFINISHED WORK):

Like thunder, it will come rolling in Like lightning, it will stop your heart. But if the sun shines And its still hanging around Then thats when you know youve Gone too far