For the love all things holy

why can't I be in that one pile?

Everybody tells me

we're never gonna be inside there.

But from what my mad eyes can tell

everyones a board a ship

of some kind.

I'm not even in one

at the moment,

as much as I want to be,

I don't even dare,

step inside a ship,

that has a name for me.

I don't wanna be plastered

and thrown away,

forgotten about for centuries.

I want my name to be my own,

I want to create a universe

of my own.

Maybe someday

I'll be able to create

that bundle of energy.

But not when I'm so strung out,

like now.

So what is good and evil?

and why do I even care?

But as usual

I'll stray far away

from both sides

of the armies,

I'll meditate myself

into nothing but dust

so I can disappear

far away from choices

and trials.

"No more clutter!"

I scream as the locusts

swarm upon my face,

but I can't stop them.

Why oh why

can't I stop them?

Even more bold is the question

to questioning my purpose,

my purpose for writing.

Everywhere all over

my body cries,

not even the wind

can remove these lies.

Oh nature;

thats oh so pretty,

can't I just get lost

into some beautiful ditty?

I guess I worry a bit too much,

isn't that obvious?

My cluttered head

is so very much

out of gasoline.

Yet everyday

strangely enough

I'm strong enough

to face these perils

all by myself!

Its quite challenging

to be dressed in mud

all day long.

To continue walking on

like nothings bad at all.

Like nothings happened,

nothing bad.

Decent decieving job there,

thats been stretched

beyond repair.

Yet the legs

on my broken doll

continue to move.

Spitting out

these useless words

from my mouth,

that vibrates with hurt.

Can't I stop thinking

about my selfish needs

for more than two seconds?

Why can I just help those

who need the help?

It seems so very simple,

yet I'm at a road block,

fucking stuck

in the middle of traffic.

I growl so loudly,

begging for god,

just to spare me.

Yet he sits up there

not listening to a word.

Would killing myself

stop the pain?

I shake my head

back and forth

shaking the answer "no!"

No of course not!

This is just

your rambling thoughts,

telling you what to do.

Don't listen to these things

that come frm a demon pen!

But I pause,

at an eager moment,

lacking for a better word

to continue with,

especially near the end,

what do I do now?

I could never sum up

something like this.

But then again I underestimate

everything that I have stated,

Maybe my work will last,

or maybe it just died

the second I came inside.

My purpose tonight though,

was not to waste my time,

or your valuable space,

but to show you,

a gentle slab of paint.

Which looks to me

like one big mess

that I can't even fix.

So I'll just stand here

looking at you,

very impatiently,

I'm awaiting

your ass kissing

in hopes it won't be

something positive

that leaves your lips.

I sigh out loud;

how can I say that,

that rude remark.

I'm running out of time,

and your precious patience

that soothes me so well.

So please don't leave,

that little twitch

of a tiny brain cell

is all that I need.

That need for an ear

to scream in.

I'm being brutally honest now,

funny how I always hold back

at the beginning.

I wonder if

I'll ever come back,

to revisit these steps;

the ones I've walked up?

Oh I'm sure there will be

more days like today

for me.

But will you come back

to check on me?

Or are you too tired,

from climbing up

my agonizing steps?

I just need to know,

knowing is what keeps me

from wanting to die.

Knowing that someones there

gives me so much strength,

enough power to guide me along

down an invisible road

that will soon be my own.

A road where all roads meet,

lets hope all of the people

will come to check back on me,

right before this movie of my life

ends completely.

For if you do stay,

after the credits,

you'll see my soul disintergrate

out from the screen;

and into your bodies,

where an endless magnitude of love,

from these fragile arms,

will embrace your spirit forever,

giving you the hand you need

to pick yourself up

out of the gutters.