1825.

Like water, you slipped through my fingers as I remained transfixed, knowing that I was changed forevermore. The sand in our hourglass had run out and thus, so had our time, as I still anxiously await the day that closure finally washes ashore. Some days, I cannot put into words how much I miss your breath against my neck or the way that you would save me, whenever I found myself shipwrecked. On other days, the electricity between us would leave me shell shocked, and feeling less lost than found, as I plead for my own salvation, hoping I would find the strength to abandon our battleground. Our holy lovers' war had left us both bereft, as we tried to catch our breath and circumvent our inevitable deaths. Stop loss syndrome as we both returned to our respective lives alone, attempted to survive, with the hopes of making it on our own. You took the road less traveled by and diverged creating your own path, as I started to repeat patterns that I should have buried in the past. Drugs and alcohol again became the friends in whom I would endlessly confide, as I repressed my emotions further, refusing to swallow my petulant, precocious pride. Nonetheless my heart thawed out, no longer Arctic icy anymore, as you helped me set fire to my fears, quickly becoming all that I could adore. I naively confused you for the cure to the cancer that ate away at my confidence, saw you as the solution which resulted in my sad dependence. Now that I have grown, and see that we were never suited for each others' tainted thrones, I harbour no hostility, and attempt to end my callous desire to clone the scent of your cologne. It really is better to have loved and lost, and similarly more preferable to have fought the war and paid the costs, than to never have loved at all. I am thankful that I did not remain oblivious and know what it feels like to have someone attempt to tear down my many walls. Even though there is still shrapnel buried in my bruised and bandaged heart, I would do it all again, just to hear your references to Descartes. With wounded wings this war has broken down my door, if all is fair in love and hate, why are you still impossible for me to abhor?

Red Riding Hood.

It is time to wake up and accept responsibility for your life, high time that you stopped pointing the finger and picked up a knife. Cut away all the vines that delude your judgment, and clear out the fog that conceals the truth from your eyes. Self-righteousness has always been the cause of your detriment, confess to your sins, or drown further in your endless lies. You are the difference between a boy and a man, as you manipulate reality to benefit your conspiratorial plans. You are always prepared to offer unsolicited advice, although you react with ire when others resort to the same device. Avoidance, your greatest clause, should have been listed on your contract when I signed up, instead I was forced to tolerate the passive aggressiveness that would fill, and thus overflow within my cup. Your ignorance once redeemed you, as it seemed like innocence instead, until I realized it was all a game, and that you were playing the fool, as if your brain was dead. You always refused to reap what you sow, placing it upon another's back as if it were their burden, go ahead and take your bow, the show is over, watch out here comes the curtain. You still compete with me to this very day, assuming that you will somehow come up the better man, although you may look better on paper, you are merely the Montreal to my Cannes. Drink freely of me, as you always do, knowing that I can handle it all; keep providing others with false security, sycophantically, but do not be alarmed when they are not available when you fall. I can only wish you the best in future endeavours and hope, and pray that I can wash my hands clean of you for good; you were the treacherous wolf that attempted to outwit, outsmart, and outplay my knowing, effervescent Red Riding Hood.

Shipwrecked.

Ice cold isolated inferences ignored by both me and you, resulted in the resignation of our hearts, as they split, and cut in two. Separated now, we are forced to accept our own unique worlds. Yours is filled with wonder, while mine keeps failing to deliver pearls. My lonely kick start heart keeps waiting for someone to come and take it by the hand, to pull it through the darkness, and to lay with it in the sand. With my future still unplanned, I continuously seek out others to turn it around, as I lose my footing, nearly tumble, slip, and falter, hoping that another will bring me back to solid ground. Anchoring my ship to prevent me from sailing out into the middle of the sea, I incorrectly assume that happy is a state of mind that does not exist independently inside of me. Without you, my heart is colder than the Arctic where it may as well have been conceived, but with you, it refuses to thaw, remains as cold, and is still ill-received. Bereaved, I prostrate to the Heavens, asking why each boat I ride in gets wrecked and washed ashore, why they always seem to hit invisible icebergs, and sink to the very bottom of the ocean floor. Titanic ailing orifice that pours my emotions out and unto you, it becomes no secret why I always end up alone, and rather subdued. Wilting wailing flower that I become each time I pick myself up and fail again, makes me wonder if the fight is not worth the fall, and if all this sacrifice is just in vain. All of the rivers, lakes, and seas have tried to tame the wild that occurs naturally within me, hedonistic until the last drop, I laugh harder, and turn it all into a game. Yet I still try to call all the shots, and desire to keep you around whenever I yearn for the warmth provided by your body and its flame. Passion seeps through my pores, poking at me until my vessel overflows. All I ask is for you to rescue me from my eternal suffering, and the violence of its throes. Pleading for the soothing rain to come another day when I am more prepared, I know the universe has a sense of humour as it would rather see me in despair. Alone, but never lonely, I need to wait until the opportunity comes knocking once again. Until then, I will remain focused, and devoted to maintaining a healthy relationship with myself, and becoming my own best friend. No mater watery graves, or drowning deaths, they are now ghosts of my torrid past, the tempests, and tsunamis of temptation, and truth will hopefully be best if saved for last.

Black.

The black torrents wash within me and I watch my light darken, I have used up so much energy in the fight that I have no resistance. I can see waves of black cascading through me in streams. I can see pools of darkness forming as my thoughts circle inside my head, my worries they are storming and desire to fill me with the utmost dread. The ebony's essence streamlines my dreams, sending me flying further into the deepest depths of the dark. My charcoal childhood was always less than chaste, as I searched high and low for a cure that would prevent my life from turning into toxic waste. No lights or sounds surround me, as I face my innermost demons and search for a friendly face, or nuance that will help ground me, and bring me closer back into myself. I can no longer live a life of knowing that I am merely settling for second best, so I cover my paintbrush in the whitest paint, ivory dances and sings as it tries to wash away the darkness that I have faced. My canvas is testament to the trials that I have endured, the whites that purify the black, and self-consciously create greys hoping to hide the error of my ways. I fail to connect to the human that lives inside me, pay no heed to the mind that the universe has granted me. I was meant to live for so much more, but I lost myself, time and time again. As I crawled through the shadows, all I searched for was a friend although I failed to realize that the love I sought lived inside me all along. I have always been better at offering others advice than taking it when I need it the most, as a result, I have become an apparition, I have become another jaded ghost. I call an ambulance after shooting a flare high into the sky, hoping that I no longer have to listen to misery's most sullen lullabies. It whistles wildly, and lets out the most piercing screams as it careens throughout the streets. Dead man walking, that I am, I give in to the darkness, and accept my grim defeat. Black, the colour of my heart after you cut off its circulation, broken,I am no longer open to happiness, I have become an empty vessel filled with nothing but degradation.

Ideal Love.

At times when I feel most lonesome, and bereft, I yearn to feel the touch, and the softness of my lover's sweet caress. Kind and considerate, never maligned by hostility or hate, the quality of love that brings to mind questions of destiny and fate. The purity of it which will cleanse every fibre, each pore, like holy water rains from Heaven that fall from the skies, and soothe my rocky shores. Passion so bright, it lights up my heart, and then my soul; just the thought of you on the dreariest days is often enough to make me feel whole. At whose feet shall I prostrate towards for bestowing me with such a love so true? Shall it be God, my eternal beloved in his entirety, or a combination of him and you? Love in its most idyllic form that conquers the world until it becomes the norm, the rarest variety that is enough to wash way the tears of children in countries that are ravaged and war torn. With petulant poignancy, my pen dances on paper to the beat of this love that has filled my world with sheer happiness, and the most magnificent bliss like manna from above. Cupid's arrows strike me, sedating me into the sweetest slumber, Venus and Aphrodite have vilified my people and caused my internal Berlin walls to crumble. This romance that unfolds, and unwraps itself in waves, crashes into me, shakes me awake, then reminds me that I am no longer sorrow's sullen slave. Liberated by lust, humbled by your hands, I slip through your fingers like sand, as you have shown me that even I have the propensity to be possessed by the potency of passion in this pedantic land. Promises made and kept prove to me that honesty, and truth can coexist with bountiful bliss; I am here, open and receptive, ready to fall further, and deeper ensnared, with just one simple kiss.

Judas.

Consciously creating chaos, you spread controversy every way you turn, as you twist the words of others, to manipulate the truth which you brutally burn. Self-righteously slaughtered, a martyr until the bitter end; not unlike Abraham, you sacrificed your honesty, in order to maintain your sycophantic, and fair weather friends. Hardly innocent, you were never a lamb, but better yet a wolf in sheep's attire, as you wickedly conspired against integrity in order to tread dangerous, darker waters, surrounded by raging rings of fire. You were the apple that led Eve astray, with your tempting tales so treacherous, although you ultimately led to her decay. Burning bush that betrayed others by behaving blessed in your first days, then claimed the lives of many innocents by parting the Red Sea, and burying them in watery graves. You flooded the world with your fickle fuckery, made it rain for forty days, and nights, until all the land was covered in acidic rain that you spewed from your rotten, little mouth and thorny lips that you pretentiously pursed so tight. Jealous Judas reincarnate, your lack of confidence was always transparent to me, as you claimed to be omnipotent, yet you had barely even mastered the art of magic or trickery. Covetous coward that you were, your bark was always bigger than your bite; just wait until the day that the insects that crawl under your skin multiply, and evolve from scabies into scarabs, and then termites. You audaciously acted entitled, daring to claim the lives of all the first born sons of those around you like a plague, conveniently taking what was never yours to begin with, then begging for the rights to brag. One day, hopefully soon, you will be forced to accept that your followers are decreasing at an alarming rate, as you sit and selfishly count the number of stolen goods that sit atop your plate. You said you could walk on water, and then turn it into wine, but instead you were just another liar, that felt entitled to waste nine months of your own mother's precious time. With a lack of a mind or any real intellect or insight whatsoever, you and Satan were one in the same, as you sat and engaged in a circle jerk, praising one another for being so cunning, and deceitfully clever. You are as disposable as the inhabitants of Sodom, with less dignity, or loyalty than the dogs that filled Babylonian slums. Wreaking havoc now, just await until you feel the wrath of my holy, then unholy vengeance, clueless is your company that refuses to accept that you demand that it remain codependent. Rest in pieces, not in peace, for the misery that you spread so freely to accompany your own, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven, for you are a piece of work much too far from worthy from ever sitting atop its throne.

Infidelity.

Crimson red bloodshed crimes against the love you claimed that you would feel until the day that you were dead. Body bag black as I have suffered my final heart attack at the lack of courtesy you showed as you twisted the knife that you had already driven into my burned back. Coffee stained teeth from hours of counseling, actively seeking the support of friends in the hopes that my bleeding heart would one day mend. Clear as the tide on a bright and crisp shiny morning, I see now what I refused to accept, the red flags, lipstick stains, and the ice cold warnings that caused our love to degenerate and then deflect. Insidiously injected you directly into my veins, when I should have instead rejected you, taken control of my life again and retrieved it by the reins. My melody unchained, my song echos throughout these empty halls, as I sit and berate myself gratuitously, this is your curtain call. Take a bow, you played at faithful so well, until your flesh began to fall away, and revealed that you were truly the gatekeeper, and I was in my own Hell. You kissed others and although I could tell, I chose to pull the veil further over my eyes, and continue hoping to be rescued in others' wishing wells. Suddenly sullen, you became more transparent than in days that had already come and gone, and all it took was a shake of my magic wand, which detached me from you emotionally, to ensure that you would no longer turn me on. Fade to black again, it's suddenly become so clear. You were the reason, the voice in my head that would never silence nor disappear. Green with envy now, as you see me carelessly sailing among the rest. I will never assimilate or merely fit in, but I will always stand out in any crowd for you; no longer jaded by your jest, bitterness subdued, I am still better than the best.