hidden

The Parka

 

The Parka

 

I wish I could just wear you.  Slip you on,  like a warm parka against the freezing cold. A thick pair of fur lined gloves , silky soft, warm and comfortable inside, but thick, and tough against the elements. You couldn't talk back, or get confused and run. You would only stay where I put you , and warm me, protect me against everything else out there when I needed you ...I could just take you off if I got too hot, instead of scrambling, and clawing trying so desperately to find you, like I do now when that happens. You'd be hanging there, on the hook when I was cold again and needed you. Still untouched by anyone else, you only fit me perfectly after all. I would patch you if ever you were worn, never throw you out, or replace you. I would wear you as if you were the finest ever to exist , walking proudly with you until I no longer needed protection from the elements. Until I could no longer walk outdoors at all. Until I was slipped into a silk lined wooden box, and lowered into the ever cold earth. There I would rest, and dream of your comforting embrace... Would my soul fly free ? Scouring the world for you? Or would I be trapped there, slowly coming apart, unraveling , helpless, in a cold dark place without you ?  The way I am now. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

One that I wrote while apart from my love for a time. 

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Plaster Face

Folder: 
Self Loathing

Tired of this cover-up life.

The need to be comfortable in my skin.

Wanting a picture perfect world

No satisfaction achievable within.

 

Using a pencil to draw things straight.

Using shadow to demonstrate – my feelings.

 

Tired of this mask that grins

There’s no washing it away I’ve tried.

Hidden beneath the false surface

No transparency visible with eyes.

 

Using a pencil to draw things straight.

Using shadow to demonstrate – my feelings.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My masks of plenty that oddly reflect my emotions I bury within.

Her Perspective

I found a girl, and saw her perspective
Silent, yet surprisingly reflective
They claimed she was away, entirely defective

But I knew otherwise just from the look in her eyes
I saw through the silent, and closed off disguise


And from there, I saw the immediate connection
Completely dissected, but still searches for true affection

 

Her warm, yet crooked emotion
A calmed, yet broken devotion

 

Silent, but struggling for her sound
and yet, still not a face found

 

Her skin torn, gone and rotten.
Her mouth stolen, words lost, ignored and forgotten.

 

She was exposed to all of the morbid things
Corrupted lies, and uneven broken wings

 

All she wanted to know if happiness was true
This is what I saw, this was the girl I knew

 

And she left sudden, without a word,
Her existence she seen was too blurred

 

Before I could realize, she was gone and done
Did you ever wonder what life can become?

 

All she wanted to know if happiness was true
This is what I saw, this was the girl I knew..

It Lives

(image from elle.com) 

...........

Ignorance

......

Wasted portions of misunderstood and ignored knowledge

held for ransom, like a secret never told,

Stealthily gaining momentum

from its gravity turned stale, and time lapsed in hiding. 

Soon sheethed in the murky shadows,

lurking in the zone of the unknown,

Waiting.

 

Wanting to free, but hopelessly shackled,

a hostage whose only solace is reveling in a newfound medium,

Somewhere between complacency and torment,

it gathers rapacious auric silt and slime,

Like the ghost of thoughts put to rest,

And stories never told,

Burgeoning.

 

It plays possum in the night,

only to keep a watchful eye

upon the Earth.

 

Devotion and loyalty to reticence

is its only oxygen in the struggle for freedom,

Befriended only by the sound---HUSH!

And speak, but only for the rebirth of itself,

At its core, once long ago, enlightenment, metamorphosed into

a haunting, churlish, savage scowl.

Rude.

 

Ignorance

is the tortured spirit of all things 

misunderstood, held in secrecy,

the words and thoughts of the wolves

who walk with brazen ostenatiousness

in the sheep's hide.

 

07/29/2013 

 

1:31 am

©

............

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Words of knowledge unspoken turn to ignorance, and then to rude, abrasive, violent language and even acts.

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Unknown - December 9, 2011

They to to understand,

Simply cannot comprehend,

This pain where I stand;

This misery that will not end.

 

My mind of fear and doubt,

And of pain I cannot bare.

I am always unsuccessful,

In ridding this despair.

 

I am unknown,

To myself and others.

These problems I am,

Cannot hide under covers.

 

I may cut or burn,

Or harm myself tonight.

To me, it's my turn,

To bare my mental fight.

 

I am unknown,

To myself and others.

But these problems I am,

Will no longer be uncovered.

 

I will wake up tomorrow,

And my pain will not be shown.

But this pain is real,

Just to others, it's unknown.

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