Snake.

Your lies were like wine, which blurred the lines of my reality  As I drank thirstily of you, I failed to see my city under siege.  Too intoxicated to retaliate and too enamoured to care, I became a ghost of a king, a mere shadow as I was hardly there.  Sobriety, though seductive, would have eliminated you.  So destructive of me to keep drinking when that was the last thing I should do.  Abandoned my awareness, replacing it with false comforts in the dark.  You were the only archer whose arrows would always hit my awkward heart.  Deserted by my disciples, autumn's leaves left the coldest winter when they died.  My screams could no longer be stifled, finally regained the strength to be immune to all of your lies.  New conscious eyes allowed me to see you for the first time.  You cowered in the corner pleading for another chance as you pressured me to drink until I was once again entranced.  That was the day your appeal melted away, stripped of your schemed, you were hardly the dream I had mistaken you for.  Awake, I reflect on how I remained numb and unaware as I sat naively wide eyed and how I was silly enough to trust a snake, assuming that one could ever play fair.  I called it love, confused though you had been devouring me alive right from the start, devoid of me, now we will see how you will ever survive without my blood pumping into your heart.

Compassion.

Inconsolable now, the collective unconscious of the world cries for the deserts that are no longer brown but red.  The oceans black from oil spills, all marine life placed in endangerment for the already rich governments to increase their greed quotient. The streets paved with the same poison that flows into our homes, numbing our minds as we succumb to the notion that we just might be this dumb.  Bombs are all that fall from the sky that once blessed us with rain and beamed on us through its magnificent sun.  War will not end until we refuse to attend yet the cycle begins anew then resets again.  Convinced by corporate slaves that we are in an emergency state, instead of helping one another, we lash out with hate, no safer now than we ever were yet mass hysteria increases from day to day.  Though my brother in the streets is no different from the rich, poor, or middle class, we are told he should help himself and hurry by, head turned, so fast.  Humanity abandoned, our focus on survival led us to forget what it means to be alive, selfishness and resentment isolate us from loved ones that once helped us thrive.  The damage we have done is far worse than we choose to accept as we continue to infect our Earth just because we can.  All that was once natural is now enhanced or modified, chemicals contaminate even our most sacred lands that filled our ancestors with pride, as we wring our hands as though it is too late to make a change because our hope has died.  The seasonal highs outdone by lows, as the climate we once knew abandons us  no longer wishing to compete with pollutants in the air or our twisted definition of progress.  Through robbing some of their civil rights, perceived threats were met with venom, eyes traded for eyes until the entire world went blind.  Deaf, and dumb to others' misfortunes or plights if they are out of sight, but instead entranced by happenstance, and scenarios that were most likely planned.  Ignorance is neither sadness nor bliss, but just the opposite of awareness; our beliefs our own to choose yet there is still senseless prejudice.  In the age of information, only we are to blame for staying uninformed, only we are responsible for conforming to the norm.  Free thinkers and light workers will help the world hold on, but until then all we can do is pray that compassion is just missing and not permanently gone.

Control.

There are moments in life where the only possible options are to lose control.  To simply let go, allowing the black hole that remained just out of sight to suddenly devour us whole, encompassing us in a darkness unmatched by even eternal slumber.  Those of us that are stronger, and can hold on for slightly longer continue to do so, avoiding, evading, ignoring until all is forgotten once again and brushed under the proverbial rug.  Then there are those of us who have tried so hard to remain standing, to stay upright pretending that we are immune to the overwhelming pressure that is gravity.  No, not us, we will not be shaken, even if just for one more solitary day.  We all tend to conveniently forget the support system that each and every single one of us possess and have had since the beginning of time.  Aside from our conscience (what greater than our most basic, natural instinct that helps guide us through the landscapes of our lives) some of our families, counselors, professors, friends and overall loved ones would love to hear from us; whether for guidance or even just an encouraging word or reminder that you still care. 

Deciding to lose control is half the battle whilst accepting it is the other half.  Firstly, we need to somehow convince our stubborn egos to accept that we can no longer cope with the paths which our lives have taken and need to reevaluate. Then we must constantly remind ourselves that we are taking the reigns and changing the course of our voyages.  Our ego responds with denial, doubt, anger as our defenses shoot up with the false belief that they somehow protect us.  Already in a state of vulnerability, we counter-intuitively make efforts to prevent ourselves from appearing vulnerable as our ego is rooted in image and others' perception of us.  We could desperately need to take a step back and relinquish control temporarily although doing so would portray us as weak, cowardly or unstable.  Asking for help when needed is often mistaken as a flaw although it is a strength; to be aware of and then utilize one's resources translates as being self-aware and almost humble to know and accept that you are loved and are so valuable.

Losing control, though seen as destructive, can be healing in that it allows us to take a step back and begin a metamorphosis of sorts.  I have lost control many times, of my emotions, impulses, and addictions, to name a few.  It is a traumatic experience to be centred on maintaining control and then having to accept that you are not in control; similar to a life's work dedicated to evolution and then finding out it was all fiction.  As someone with many compulsions, the energy I allocated to appearing to be in control was now free to be utilized to reeducate myself on how to maintain balance through a routine of sorts and by familiarizing myself with moderation, a concept which my ego regarded as inferior and an issue that only attached itself to weaker minds.  I convinced myself I was invincible and capable of anything I put my mind to, ignoring the rampant alcoholism within my family, conveniently forgetting my own mental health history and that to think in cliches was to become one. Perhaps these delusions of grandeur could be brought down to Earth during this period of change & growth.

BiPolar.

With my heart in the Antarctic, and my mind somewhere in the Philippines, it can become quite exhausting trying to grasp the intricacies of my extremes.  Blazing like a wild fiery inferno in one instant, then frigid, icy cold the next, my moods catapult conspiring to make me appear my worst and then immediately my best.  Though I resolve to reveal only the side of me that never frightens others scaring them away, when I am left untreated, it can go either way.  Depending on the day, I am unintentionally one's foe or their friend, irritability then rears its ugly face resulting in world's end.  I shout, swear, scream and then the storm is over as suddenly as it began, I hurry to collect the scattered pieces of a misunderstood man.  Although I hate playing the victim, I cannot be forced to take the blame, as though pointing the finger at me could somehow change the game.  Stretched to my limit in opposite directions many times throughout the day, this internal war pierces my skin with its shrapnel in the worst way.  On the surface, all is calm yet just below is another outbreak, as I summon all my strength to prevent any mistakes.  Comedy and tragedy in their duality are personified by me, though I would prefer to remain an anomaly, or mystery.  Torn between two arguments even though both contain logic and reason, I am not winter or fall, but rather the highs and lows of every season.