Blindfolded Hypocrisy

Trauma fueled fire

Finding my own desire

Can feel my heart beat

Like a million fires

Can’t quit

This attempt to fit

All the molds

They wanted me to be

All the perceptions they wanted me to see

Distorted my mind into a fantasy

Smiling right at me

So all I have left is a story

 

Oh, blindfolded hypocrisy

Just can’t let me be

Oh, blindfolded hypocrisy

Trying to capture me

But everytime I crawl away

With a piece of your reality

 

Trauma filed day

Avoiding the triggers that may

Haunt my dreams it seems

To the end of May

Sweating through my clothes

Hurting all my bones

Trying to walk before I can crawl

So sick of it all

Trauma filled day

Yelling at my feet

They never were complete

Like two mutant creeps

Unable to fall asleep

Hands on a controller

My virtual consoler

The outside world feels like a boulder

Waiting to crush me

And some days all I can see

Is them laughing over me

But when I stand

I won’t let this be

I won’t let this be.

 

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Miss Magic IX

“I truthfully don’t want to offend anyone, but I don’t believe in angels  Olivia. I think that man was just a  second chance giving kind of person. A rarity in this world. Few can forgive, let alone give someone an opportunity out of it. ”

“True. I guess I didn’t think of it that way. I think of things in a symbolic way. I suppose I could have said he was like an angel.” Olivia explains.

“True. He was like an angel to us. He could have called the police. Who knows what could have happened?! They could have taken you away. Poke you with a bunch of needles. You do realize Olivia, what you have is desirable by those with power or money? You do realize what your ability could do in the wrong hands? Especially now?” Jackie asks with concern.

“I never thought of it that way until now truthfully. It was fun Jackie but I do realize it’s going to come with some not so fun parts. Like dealing with power tripping people.” Olivia admits.

“We have to look out for trouble. Me even knowing about this puts me in danger really.”

“Sorry I involved you in this. I had no one…” 0livia pleads.

“Stop! I’m happy you came to me. Although it comes with risk, you and I actually have a chance to make a difference now. We have a yet to be created purpose. Before this, I was just going through the motions in life. Olivia, this is pretty freaking awesome! Think about it! You’re like some kind of superhero.” Jackie says with the upmost enthusiasm, while raising her arms halfway to her sides like she always does when childlike excited about something.

“Thanks for being the coolest friend I’ve ever had.”

“No problem. You see I think we both can adapt to this situation quite well.” Jackie admits.

“Agreed. I can’t have my own back either all the time.”

“I think we need a night to recover. No more gambling for awhile, haha. Perhaps we should just sit around tonight and find out what you can do.” Jackie chuckles.

“Agreed. I’m exhausted. This whole night has been overwhelming.”

They drive back to Jackie’s apartment, grab some Ben n Jerry’s, a movie, and a new deck of cards. They contemplate possible future moral dilemmas and discuss ways to help others. The specific people they plan to help and the forgotten. They make plans to conquer the pain they see in the eyes of others.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Should Have Been Athena

I don’t even know what’s reality anymore

Say something to me

I dare you

Because I’m down on the floor

I dropped my shield

and like Apollo you rose

you played your guitar

but little did I know

your splendor was a facade

your heart was so cold

marked by the God Ares

And ready to charge like a boar

Your spear in your hand…

looking up at Mars, craving more…

 

I came to you like Aphrodite

When I should have been Athena

I came to you as the goddess of love

When I should have prepared for the arena…

 

I don’t even know what’s reality anymore

Say something to me

I dare you

Because I’m already on the floor

But I grab my spear

because you always seem ready for more

I battle you day and night

to settle the score

Then I rise like Athena

Fully armored with a crested helm

Striking you down

Becoming fully in charge of my realm

And even when you fell on your knees

I still showed you the greatest of empathy…

even after you broke me down

stole what was left of me….

 

I came to you like Aphrodite

When I should have been Athena

I came to you as the goddess of love

When I should have prepared for the arena…

The Woman Who Lost it All (A Fictional Short Story)

She sits on her leather sofa they just bought a year ago, thinking “oh how I once worried about what color this is. Now I just want to get rid of it for free.” Caressing the leather, she imagines she isn’t even there but rather in another state, in a new house, with a new man, and her beautiful children treating him as if he is their blood. Over and over she tells herself it isn’t too late to fight for what she has always wanted; peace.

Their pictures are everywhere. Old memories once kept her sane, but now make her think she is headed inside a straight jacket. His scent is everywhere. All over her clothes especially. She has spent the entire day re-washing everything. Almost symbolic in a way, cleansing the filth of his wrongdoings off of her. So much blame, she says to herself. So much blame I have taken on to get to this point. All the introspection, day and night, beating myself up for what? To be forgotten. What happened to not giving up on someone? These days she perceives everyone as on the go, on to the next, and rather than fixing what is wrong, finding the new thing that might feel right for an evening or two.

Where do I get my faith? Do I ask god why this happened to me?Or rather just face the fact he would rather kiss the lips of another than mine. Why? She asks. In my head, he is still like a god. I still love the part  of him I first locked onto. How could he make it all go away? So quickly? Why can’t i?

She is convinced her heart is a fool or it is derived from gold. She chooses the gold because it makes it easier to hope. Hope for herself and hope for her children to grow up with a male figure who teaches them how to play ball, treat women, and straighten their tie. She wishes it could have been him but some play roles rather than living them.

The kids will be home shortly. So should he, but maybe he won’t be. He will probably call and say he is late at the office but she knows where he will be now. Thanks to a good friend at the restaurant, the reservation isn’t unnoticed. All bad deeds come to a bad end. Sometimes they just need a push into the end part so the dignity and esteem of the innocent remains intact.

She knew something was wrong when she tried to use the credit card last week but the credit line was used up. An expensive purchase, a ring, she waited for it last week but it never came for her. She thought it could be hidden around the house but after two days of searching there was minimal hope. She ponders: Why are my dreams always sold away to the desperate girl who would love a towel? That is not love. To be so desperate for someone to take care of you, is never love. I spent my life bearing his children, cleaning his underwear, cooking his food, and paying for a house I cannot even stand in without wanting to cry. I deserve that ring or no one will have it.

It is five thirty. The reservation is for 6. She kisses her children, tells the babysitter it will be a while, then leaves. The sound of the rain upon her windshield reminds her there are some things out of her control; like the weather. Like in life but she would have it no other way. Forget the umbrella she mutters. I want to feel the rain. For so long he kept it out, hid it inside, and now there is a storm.

She is on a mission. Briefcase in hand. Her soon to be ex husband, is desperately trying to woo a young lady after his wallet. Risking his children minds, money, his wife, and the rest of his life for what? An empty mind which needs to be developed. The girl knows better, she wants an easy way out. They both are in the wrong.

She sits down. Rests the briefcase upon the table. Everyone is suddenly still. They think there is a bomb, but no it is a lie detector. She tells him to put his finger in it like it has been in other places it shouldn’t have. Question by question she writes down the results in front of the other woman. For some reason it doesn’t bother her this man is a complete liar. Disgusting, the wife thinks. The crowd in the background is roaring with excitement. They think this is some kind of reality tv show like cheaters. She ensures them it is, knowing people will fall for anything their own mind creates.

At the end, she asks the other woman, knowing he is a liar for years, do you still want this man? The woman says, he won’t lie to me. Noticing the ring on the table, the wife quickly snatches it up and says well then if you are so greedy, why don’t you just eat this ring? If you can swallow it, you can keep it. Their faces are lined up, and the wife aggressively pops the ring into her mouth, makes her swallow it and says well that will be a memorable proposal. And by the way, hunny, could you sign these divorce papers? He quickly does and she is on her way.

The home is still riddled full of his memories and an occasional scent, but she laughs thinking of the last time she saw him. The woman, the ring, the detector, the crowd, and the papers. Her children are playing in the pool, as if nothing has happened. She thinks, I did it soon enough. She watches her new husbands muscle definition as he scrapes the pool, smiling at her children, then running to fetch a band aid after one of them falls to the ground. She thinks again, there is hope in people if they have it in themselves. Glad I never lost myself completely.

Against the Glass

It was like you had my face pressed against glass. You said breathe when I couldn’t but let me occasionally gasp enough to stay alive. It was like I would have rather been dead then be teased with the idea of my life in the hands of someone so cruel. Or perhaps you were not cruel because you felt nothing. You were more like a sociopath, able to turn off the part of the brain which processes the infliction of pain on another soul is torture. I have many theories as to why you hated women. Why you decided they were of no use other than cooking, cleaning, and fulfilling any other selfish desires you had. Like their entire existence should be you, for you, about you, and all around you. Then suddenly, I am gone. Off wandering inside my head doing the dishes, thinking of palm trees you promised, skydives, and that resort we drove past. I would have loved to ride a segway in the woods and I am sure looking back any friend I had would have loved to go with me. And I am so angry. Why did I spend all this time upon someone who could not accept who I was, what I did for them, how much I cared, and how much I lost of myself for them. I don’t know if I can ever be the same after this. I use to think the world was wonderful and people were who they seemed to be but now, I see vultures. I see people almost programmed into similar relationships and hear the same stories from different mouths all the time. No one realizes how alike they truly are. We are programmed to think we are all unique which is not healthy. We need human connection, we all strive for it in some way, through family, friends, and lovers. It is what makes life balance out. But at what cost does it become more of a burden than a gift? What if you feel you have endured enough pain for a lifetime? I feel there should be no more pain inflicted on my soul by another as long as I live. I will not be troubled to save anyone anymore who does not want to be helped. I will be surrounded someday by good people.

Who Told You Who I Am?

Who told you who I am?

how can they speak for me when they can’t speak like a man?

You come at me like a bull in heat

desperate for a person to complete

your next sentence like the fucking movies

but hate to break it to you this is reality…

you don’t maim who you love

you don’t break someone down

unless you want them to run off

with a better fucking clown….

I hate the way your lips move

but cannot rhyme

you have no talents

you can’t even focus on them

cuz’ you’re too blind

to your own sickness

running out of your veins

out your nose

then onto your face

teeth rotted out like they were never touched

you a man?

I think you need a toothbrush…

I can’t speak for all you men

cuz some of you have game

you can run in other people’s face

and the truth you can claim

but some of you should take the advertisement down

cuz you look like trash with that big old frown

Who told you who I am?

how can they speak for me when they can’t speak like a man?

you come at me like a pilot but without a plane

you acted all pimp without the cane

I wish I saw the stars in your eyes

were just reflections of the street lights

cuz the way you lit that cig

could make any heart stop…

Who told you who I am?

how can they speak for me when they can’t speak like a man?

How do you even know me when you were always in command?

A person ad midst a war is never able to stand.

 

Realization

He stares into the night as if the road isn’t there anymore. He is driving but he appears to be floating mentally above the clouds, placing himself so high no one can catch up. Not even the pope, an oracle, Einstein, Dali, or any brilliantly crafted person could reach him. He chooses to be lost. There is the road but it goes back around in circles, creating a diversion even the strongest person could fall into. I have seen those eyes before, saddened, beat down, and fallin’ like the sword of a samurai. I don’t know when your eyes lost their color but I wish they could be restored the brightest color possible. I try to figure out all the triggers but so many exist it is nearly impossible to sustain some kind of bliss. Your mouth moves like a poem then a dagger. I blame myself but there is no way all your pain was caused by just me, you barely knew who I was. Perhaps, you could not see all your pain eventually manifested in me, like a ghost haunting a soul so I became the warrior. Left with scars, empty eggshells I once cracked to make you breakfast, I hold onto the thought the scars and eggshells will eventually just be nothing more than what they are.They will no longer remind me of suffering but of sacrifice. To change, is to sacrifice a part of yourself you no longer can be at harmony with. You were the part of myself I let go. You are a reminder pain exists but should never be laid upon another soul, already lifeless, already bruised, already out of battle. I may not be perfect but my god I have sustained myself through the impossible of times, and deserve a heart not secured by cast iron. I am too tired to peal back the layers of what is to find what was in someone. I am too broken to trust a world of creatures who move calculated rather than spirited. I will adore those who remain true and ignore those who chose a lie.