Poetry : I’m not even mad

What’s funny is I’ve finally realized what a goddamn insufferable loser I am. And honestly I’m not even mad…it just sucks that every step I take forward I always take three of them bitches backwards. Again I’m not even mad, I have a sister who hates my guts and one that’s probably headed in the same direction.

The people I count as friends is a group that dwindles daily. It’s funny how fucking fake some people are, unapologetic assholes who are just fair weather fodder for social envy. People who fucking make me sick that a courtesy couldn’t even have extended to someone so easily unfriended. Lol that makes me a little mad, I’ll bounce back, but just barely, and it’ll all go to shit.

Honestly I open up to people I regret it, it all backfires because apparently I have loser written all over me. I have some real great people who really care, but everyone else lol, all you do is sit and stare and you know who you are and how far shits fallen from grace. I’m not even mad, I’m just a dirtbag I’m just a loser, I’m not a friend I’m just the lesson, I’m fat kid, the secret confession.

I’m just the definition of what not to do, that piece of shit bastard that jokes around and laughs at you. I bust jokes and I make fun, I keep it light hearted so it’s easier to run. I wear a mask for every situation, always Interchangeable and always at arms length.

Because I’ll never let anyone hurt me except me with my own strength. Fuck you for caring and trying to stay, fuck you for not running away. And fuck you for being there through, that goes to my real friends. But fuck doesn’t just mean fuck you to me, it also means thank you just not all politely and pretty.

If you read this whole thing it’s just me writing. I’m not gonna off myself. Sometimes I just need to get shit off my chest. Lol scaring the shit out of people apparently works best. But seriously, some of you are fucking dicks. Some of your aren’t too bad, but honestly I’m not even mad.

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Poetry: Delivery

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"Its all fun and games until the wave breaks, and lives are at stake."
I wish I could say what needed to be said, to bring these memories I regret right back from the dead. The problem is they are dead for some, just not for me, it's like all the people I've let go are a metaphorical zombie. I play out scenarios and I think of ways it could have been better. Ways I could have saved arguments before they turned into a personal vendetta. It's sad to think, that it always goes away, when someone gets angry and says somethings they should never say. It's a seriously surreal, this feeling I feel when I can dream of times spent caressing. Then when I wake and I spend the rest of the day suppressing the depression. I make my face a mask, and put myself forth to the task. I make myself smile, and tell everyone its okay, while on the inside I rot and slowly waste away. I guess what I'm really trying to say, is I never wanted it to be this way. These are the feelings I must convey, these are the feelings that I never get to say. I don’t understand how I can be her everything, and then be a wisp, a ghost, an avoided annoyance. It doesn't make sense that how someone else feels for someone can immediately become past tense. I can turn in my sleep and smell her hair, even though she isn’t even there. It may seem as if I am obsessed, but it has taken me years to express, the feelings that oppress my mood, my choices, those constant mocking voices that don’t let me move forward, that don’t let me fly freely. The constant reminders that I was once happy, and now everything else is a copy, a counterfeit version, and all who come after are just a diversion. I make mistakes and I tried to move on, but every person I've loved has paid the price for my heart getting stomped on. It's not fair, because for them, why should I care? Why should I hope for something that probably isn't even there? Why should I whine and moan, about a feeling that was just on loan, not promised, just cherished now that its gone. I miss that feeling, that touch in the night, that caress on my back when she fights off my fears, guarding me until the light makes it all right. Between us I was the one who went through hell, and still I broke down the gates and let her in. She tore out my heart, and I must confess I don't even mind that fact that it was in her own defense. She tried to hurt me before I could hurt her worse, because damaged can only deal more damage, that is what makes sense. I'm not sorry for loving, I'm not sorry I gave in. I'm just sorry that damaged goods is what she got inside the delivery it all came in.

Thank you for reading, i really appreciate any time you spend on me and what i do.

 

-MythicalCrayon

Poetry: Immortal Beloved

Are you really here? Or am I dreaming? It's a dream again, it's always this dream that I see you smiling then as I turn away it fades to sorrow, No light forthcoming no hopes for tomorrow, just the kind that only misery can invoke, its like a sick sad certainty that you certainly see me inadvertently and at the same time blatantly watch as I waste away, contemplating vast shades of dismay.

You once broke waves and now you wither like wisps lost in winter. To me you were to me pearl shining in a sea of stones. Together we were the Guns of Summer, blasting freedom from our barrels never minding the business of others. Our desire was the powder, and our intentions the bullets. Aiming far beyond our expectation. 

This solace driven queen that comes and goes like a solstice brings weather, with niceties soft as a feather, but desire that burns hotter than a phoenixes footsteps. Walking and burning holes in my skin, searing memories I bare into my skin, like a symphony written for all to share.

Being this way, so far away makes me miss these dreams but fear them, because like the past that was my torture these memories of more memories are my nemesis. You were my escape, and definitely my genesis, my beginning, my first chapter, but now you are my sweet ever after, and yet my shadowy figure lurking on a rafter, it's that haunting need to of wanting that keeps taunting and tempting, spinning spells that keep me on the beaten path laden with chains by a hurtful mask wearing maiden.

And when im old grey, i know that i will always feel this way. I miss those nights, that turned to morning, now left amidst the aftermath, with nothing to do but endure relentless mourning. I run from you, in this scantly clad but fanciful facade feasting fiercely on all things that once entranced me. But its over now, what we had was once immortal, but now forsworn. I will limp back to my hovel bereft and forlorn. I miss you my Immortal Beloved.

-MythicalCrayon
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Daily Prompt: Childlike

Explain your biggest regret — as though to a small child.

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Sometimes two people meet, and then they become friends, and then that friendship becomes like when you mommy and daddy smile and hug and kiss each other. Sometimes this goes on and on for a long time, and eventually those people become mommies and daddies, and get married. Marriage isn’t an easy thing to explain, its like a birthday, but when two people who love each very much become a permanent girlfriend and boyfriend. And sometime it doesn’t work, like when one of your toys break, or when you get mad a friend for saying something that hurts your feelings.

Sometimes you don’t want to be their friend anymore, sometimes everything you say becomes a fight. Do you know what a regret is? its when  you wish you could do something, but aren’t able to and people are just as disappointed in you as you are with yourself. I know you loved her, i did too, i still do and i regret she couldn’t stay in our lives but it just didn’t work. We just fought a lot and nothing was ever nice of fun between us before her and her daughter left.

Yes i loved her daughter, yes i wanted to be her daddy too. But i also loved her too much to make her hurt more being in a relationship that she didn’t want to be in. I will always think about them, and always wonder what our lives would have been like with them in it. I will always regret losing them, but i refuse to regret losing you too.

-MythicalCrayon

Just for Starters

If you were suddenly independently wealthy, how would you spend your time? What positive change would you bring to the world?

ImageEveryone wants to fix the world, everyone wants to make it better place….What if they way things are, are exactly how it is supposed to be, of if life is just a reflection of how it is meant to be at a later time. What if all the horrible things that happen, starvation, terrorism, social deviancy, hate, what if this how the world is going to be regardless.

Scary thought, one that doesn’t invoke very much hope for the future. Most religious beliefs dictate the idea that the admittance to the afterlife is to be achieved by following or not following a certain set of rules and regulations. Usually set forth by what ever god or prophet, from that religion, that has deemed these actions necessary or Law.

Common knowledge to most, but still what is the point If everything is predestined? what is the point if we are all on auto pilot?

But i guess the question of the day is if i was suddenly rich what would i do with it? I personally am not so benevolent that i would give it all away and make changes, but i would however, try to make the best of my many in a way that i never had the means to do so in the first place. People who “have money” honestly don’t have the same views on spending as those who grew up “wanting but not having money.” It is easy to give it away when you know for a fact that it is just part of a pipeline being fed to you from some unknown source. And of course its easy to let the champagne flow freely when you are the king, and not the worker. But i have always been the worker, my money has always come from the strength of my back, and the sweat from my brow. So being “Suddenly Rich” is such a foreign concept to me, i have never known it so it would be hard for me to accept it. Because ultimately i would be waiting for it to end, constantly waiting for the day the check doesn’t come anymore.

Its a nice idea, to think of what it would be like, and the fanciful meanderings that could follow from such a prospect. But honestly i can say what “i would like to do,” but all that matters is what “i would actually do.” Depending on your lifestyle and your upbringing, you may choose to frown upon this idea, or accept that it is just a form of social stratification, what i do is what most from my type of life would do. Given the circumstance.

-J