From The Blue

From the blue
In my buckling frame,
Wayward soul of happenstance,
You found soild foot
On my emptying threshold.

Hollowed out,
From weather and wear,
Plaster and paint chipping, I
Haven't much
But time and the space between.

Yet something familiar
In your stranger-ness caught
Me between mirrors. Mesmerized,
You remind me
Of someone I used to know.

Sit a spell,
Unhand your load.
I know the road you've come along.
The cobbles that catch
Your feet caught mine, once upon a time.

By the fire we can burn
Together the secrets
We can no longer carry alone.
Letting the crackling flames
Catch this moment in its glowing embers.

And while we rest
Together, the quiet
Will take us into the dark and deep,
Where we'll map it out
In crimson hues of lighter things.

With hands held tight
And bodies pressed close.
We'll make sense of the senseless,
Break apart the quiet,
And feel out the numb.

Taken up in this
Maze of ghostly trails,
Though strangers still, we're lost the same.
Pages turn, histories burn,
And our crossing paths merge into one.

Lucky One

I am a lucky one.

Growing up my mother's only pressure was to try my best and follow my heart.

My father bled total admiration, for both sides of my being, no matter the destruction from their constant spinning.

No number of blessings could amount to the splendor of my siblings, to whom I owe salvation.

In the face of the worst emotional battles, I have an army of friends, golden and true, ready and willing.

And in this, at times, the world drops from under my feet, with no regard for my luckiness. I slip away, irrevocably, uncontrollably, into fatalistic despair. Many comrades in the fight for sanity, clarity, or desperate relief commonly fall prey to the open arms of hallucinogens and fire water, intimate escapes and empty pleasures... anything else. Tortured by an imperfect science.

It is, as you say, a crutch -- but only in terms decidedly personal, something about which outsiders can only speculate, and judge uninformed. We don't blame you. This too we carry. The twisted plummet of our suffering is made dire by the invisibility of our foes. How we wish you could see it, the terror in our eyes. Shamefully we envy the physically ailed. Oh, to wear visible the heaviest of pains. But behold, we stand present, next to you, as imposters, lost in a disfigured reality. Slowly dying from a faceless sickness.

And I am a lucky one. I have fought with every fiber. But it is not due to strength that I have not yet faltered to the understandable crutch of chemical abuses, everyone has their vices, after all. Instead, we walk an edge. And no one can know, definitively, who will be blown astray, until the winds of reason turn cold. Sanity is a fragile thing. All the kings horses and men are encouraging but they haven't a cure.

As such, we are left, with a frustrating invisibility, always questioning...

And I am a lucky one.

franglishly wanton

Vous êtes mon bonheur mais vous ne saurez jamais ceci parce que vos murs m'empêchent d'entrer trop bon. mais en dépit de ceci, je t'aime, et je continuerai à vous aimer, comme l'imbécile je suis. il est meilleur, je pense, d'être malade d'amour et un imbécile que seul et d'avoir la dignité. Ma vie était moins avant que vous ayez été dans lui, mon amour. Je rêverai d'un autre monde et d'une heure différente où j'étais assez fort, et braverai assez, pour démolir vos murs. Pardonnez-moi si je laisser vont de vous, parce que je ne peux pas me pardonner.