I wanted to write
something so eloquent
about you,
i mean, how difficult is it?
I sat here, thinking about
all the emotions i feel
when i am around you,
and a freezing flood
rushes over my shore,
the gray of my brain,
it just will not come to me
quite easily.
Pains me actually.
When i am around you,
you wrap my tongue,
stretch it to its limits
and wring it out
and, my man,
your aftercare
is off the chain.
You give me a new thought before i finish another,
your ideas and power flow into me,
so much that, your leadership
causes ME to be a great leader.
Your power, coupled with the love
you rush down like a quiet
waterfall into my lake of my psyche
evaporates into the atmosphere;
beautiful rainbows shine above our
harmony,
and i still cannot complete my thought.
Papa, what you DO to me!?
I can't seem to finish,
but does it need an ending?
Are we still writing a book
about us? I do not think
I have reached the chapter where
i can finally list all the things i feel
when i'm with you.
Forty-five minutes away,
or forty-five nanoseconds away
you're with me.
And there is no better feeling than to feel you
and the God that dwells within you,
maybe except for the God that dwells in me.
Jesus recognize Jesus,
and i STILL can't finish a thought before
a new beginning.
Ohhhhh i give up!!!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Rotten Love
Is noticing pain
something to be proud of
when you caused it?
Is being aware of anguish
something to be proud of
when you caused it?
Is senseless murder
senseless only to the one
who was killed?
The carcass
infested with maggots
stinks of neglect;
like a bad memory,
it's only putrid
when experienced.
Even when nature
finishes the decomposition,
the stain will remain.
You hold your nose,
avert your eyes,
redirect your path, avoiding
the disgrace on the floor
in your house.
You stop people at the entrance,
live on your porch,
come in the back way,
all to avoid the foyer of your life.
All of this
could have been avoided
if you addressed the issue
instead of running from it.
Clean up the mess that
you helped make,
aid in discarding the shell
of love
that lies rotting.
Let's put on the gloves
of sanitation, remove
the rotten beast without
re-contamination.
Reacquaint ourselves with
it, remember it alive,
and figure out why it died.
Let us bury it,
No Coroner needed.
something to be proud of
when you caused it?
Is being aware of anguish
something to be proud of
when you caused it?
Is senseless murder
senseless only to the one
who was killed?
The carcass
infested with maggots
stinks of neglect;
like a bad memory,
it's only putrid
when experienced.
Even when nature
finishes the decomposition,
the stain will remain.
You hold your nose,
avert your eyes,
redirect your path, avoiding
the disgrace on the floor
in your house.
You stop people at the entrance,
live on your porch,
come in the back way,
all to avoid the foyer of your life.
All of this
could have been avoided
if you addressed the issue
instead of running from it.
Clean up the mess that
you helped make,
aid in discarding the shell
of love
that lies rotting.
Let's put on the gloves
of sanitation, remove
the rotten beast without
re-contamination.
Reacquaint ourselves with
it, remember it alive,
and figure out why it died.
Let us bury it,
No Coroner needed.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sayonara?
Goodbye, love
I have to bid you adieu.
It's for the best, anyways.
For I am only a season in your cycle,
and you a leaf on my tree.
I see your smile from a
spy in the corner of your life,
snapshots of happiness,
the joy excites me,
been here for a while,
even before you pushed me away,
and all i can say--
"your happiness makes me more at peace".
Such noble words spoken
from a woman
who had died
at your dismissal.
Goodbye, love
I have to bid you adieu.
It's for the best, anyways.
For I am only a beauty mark
in between the crack of your @ss.
Half-truths and confusion?
Disillusions from the illusion?
I opened your heart,
studied your conscience,
and written in Sharpie,
was the answer,
yet it had been overwritten. edit
Ah, so much for that.
The stitches i craft in forgiveness
will heal well,
but leave a mark
of regret.
Goodbye, love
I have to bid you adieu.
It's for the best, anyways.
For I am only a passerby hello
While you have gone goodbye.
I have to bid you adieu.
It's for the best, anyways.
For I am only a season in your cycle,
and you a leaf on my tree.
I see your smile from a
spy in the corner of your life,
snapshots of happiness,
the joy excites me,
been here for a while,
even before you pushed me away,
and all i can say--
"your happiness makes me more at peace".
Such noble words spoken
from a woman
who had died
at your dismissal.
Goodbye, love
I have to bid you adieu.
It's for the best, anyways.
For I am only a beauty mark
in between the crack of your @ss.
Half-truths and confusion?
Disillusions from the illusion?
I opened your heart,
studied your conscience,
and written in Sharpie,
was the answer,
yet it had been overwritten. edit
Ah, so much for that.
The stitches i craft in forgiveness
will heal well,
but leave a mark
of regret.
Goodbye, love
I have to bid you adieu.
It's for the best, anyways.
For I am only a passerby hello
While you have gone goodbye.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Shielded from Mother...
A cross-wired lattice fence
white as all
colors mixed together
in one unison,
one form,
one harmony.
Beautiful obstacle,
pure and relevant,
built by hands
of none
and hearts of millions.
Oh white fence,
you are alive with power!
Shocking bolts
of conviction
by climbing the face
of miracles,
and she falls
into green pastures,
mindlessly dwelling
in paradise.
You see,
She had set gaze
on dark horizons,
droning mob cries
and
she
couldn't help
BUT
to feed her
CURIOSITY
and
it KILLED her
that she couldn't touch
the reflection
of HER
she saw
over the fence
that
bordered.
Looming in darkness
was a part of her,
lost
and dwelling
and dying.
Severed umbilical cord;
what good is a
placenta by itself?
Will it not die without an
infant?
Eyes flushed out
the pain in her gut
as the phantom
want for need
ached in her body;
she watched
the useless
appendage
she once loved
wither outside
the fence.
Poor infant, born and
torn away from
what she knew. . .
Father?
white as all
colors mixed together
in one unison,
one form,
one harmony.
Beautiful obstacle,
pure and relevant,
built by hands
of none
and hearts of millions.
Oh white fence,
you are alive with power!
Shocking bolts
of conviction
by climbing the face
of miracles,
and she falls
into green pastures,
mindlessly dwelling
in paradise.
You see,
She had set gaze
on dark horizons,
droning mob cries
and
she
couldn't help
BUT
to feed her
CURIOSITY
and
it KILLED her
that she couldn't touch
the reflection
of HER
she saw
over the fence
that
bordered.
Looming in darkness
was a part of her,
lost
and dwelling
and dying.
Severed umbilical cord;
what good is a
placenta by itself?
Will it not die without an
infant?
Eyes flushed out
the pain in her gut
as the phantom
want for need
ached in her body;
she watched
the useless
appendage
she once loved
wither outside
the fence.
Poor infant, born and
torn away from
what she knew. . .
Father?
Friday, October 22, 2010
Individualistic society sucks.
Yeah, i was just browsing Youtube (as usual) and came across this gem.
Just listen first, and then read on.
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OK so you watched it? Cool.
Yeah........ pretty powerful eh? Yup. The heart thing made me cringe a little bit, but i LOVED Gnarls Barkley's song *reminds self to find and download*.
The message is self-explanatory, i think.
This is what I believe.
Basically, falling in love is a tough deal, and falling out of it can be even tougher. People nowadays are so quick to flee and move on at the first sign of trouble, and people have shallow ideas of commitment (OH I'm gonna only love you during the good times, I'm too young/old/busy/pretty/promiscuous to stay here and make it work when things turn sour 'cause OH I'm SOOOOOOO optimistic, storms scare me and blah blah blah) that they really do not care about the person they are supposed to be "in it" with (meaning, in a relationship with). People are also quick to fall in love with a person. All it takes nowadays is to get to "know them" (sex) and BOOM! You're there. SMH...
i have a lot of feelings about this video... i can't really form a cohesive blog with it so i will just hold on to them. What do y'all think about it?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
for Sir...
Big red marks
of sacrificial skin
bunched together
screaming nerves
of timidity
and underlapping
the boundaries
of my bliss
as my vocal cords
chord a pleasing remark
soothing beastly
thoughts of desire
and transferring the
power of my
own will
into your strong hands
and i bind together
the thoughts
of me in you
and we
collar the moment
catch it in our grasp
the point between
yours and mine
that empty space
the thin line that
separates roles
and sorts out the confusion
that i will be yours.
of sacrificial skin
bunched together
screaming nerves
of timidity
and underlapping
the boundaries
of my bliss
as my vocal cords
chord a pleasing remark
soothing beastly
thoughts of desire
and transferring the
power of my
own will
into your strong hands
and i bind together
the thoughts
of me in you
and we
collar the moment
catch it in our grasp
the point between
yours and mine
that empty space
the thin line that
separates roles
and sorts out the confusion
that i will be yours.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
it ain't got no title, just read.
Straw pile
on the curve of my back,
on my knees
begging Master
for reprieve;
passing through
the eye of the needle,
heavy burdens in tow.
Reapers of the world
stare as i crawl
and they sneer as each place
a single strand of straw
on the curve of my back.
Teary eyed, pain radiates
from my spine,
Peripheral nervous system
sends SOS
to the rest of me,
Please, yell "No More!".
And then i see YOUR face,
twisted grin,
your tears of pain
streaming down from your eyes,
and you place
the last straw,
domino effect
of my back
as each bone
collapses,
and the pressure,
the disapproval,
the disdain
flattens me.
Now I am buried
Under the straw I carried,
I see you and
the burden you have
turn away from me
and you mutter
"Strength in the Lord?
Foolishness.
I have broken her."
Your indifference uncovered
the transference.
Straws began to
collect on your spine
as the tingling
in my fingers
dissipates.
Little do you know,
the strength I have
is not measured by
the weight on my back,
the power of my tongue nor
the wits I possess, rather
the love of God.
Within lies
incomparable strength,
as even though
the million straws I carry
have shattered my spine,
my heart still beats,
loves,
and triumphs
over any straw in my load.
on the curve of my back,
on my knees
begging Master
for reprieve;
passing through
the eye of the needle,
heavy burdens in tow.
Reapers of the world
stare as i crawl
and they sneer as each place
a single strand of straw
on the curve of my back.
Teary eyed, pain radiates
from my spine,
Peripheral nervous system
sends SOS
to the rest of me,
Please, yell "No More!".
And then i see YOUR face,
twisted grin,
your tears of pain
streaming down from your eyes,
and you place
the last straw,
domino effect
of my back
as each bone
collapses,
and the pressure,
the disapproval,
the disdain
flattens me.
Now I am buried
Under the straw I carried,
I see you and
the burden you have
turn away from me
and you mutter
"Strength in the Lord?
Foolishness.
I have broken her."
Your indifference uncovered
the transference.
Straws began to
collect on your spine
as the tingling
in my fingers
dissipates.
Little do you know,
the strength I have
is not measured by
the weight on my back,
the power of my tongue nor
the wits I possess, rather
the love of God.
Within lies
incomparable strength,
as even though
the million straws I carry
have shattered my spine,
my heart still beats,
loves,
and triumphs
over any straw in my load.
Monday, October 11, 2010
OMG.... OMG!!!!
I. LOVE. THIS. SONG.
I heard it before... but, didn't really pay attention to the lyrics until today. This is on repeat until I have the whole song in my memory banks.
Ceelo Green, you've done it again with the relating-to-your-audience thing. Even if I were the only one there... your relate-able meter will still be off the charts. Thanks for bottling up like FOUR YEARS of my love life. Thanks. Lol.
I heard it before... but, didn't really pay attention to the lyrics until today. This is on repeat until I have the whole song in my memory banks.
Ceelo Green, you've done it again with the relating-to-your-audience thing. Even if I were the only one there... your relate-able meter will still be off the charts. Thanks for bottling up like FOUR YEARS of my love life. Thanks. Lol.
It's Like Gold Duuuuuuuuust.....
Ok so. Some (if not most) of my peeps KNOW i am on this dubstep craze. Don't know what dubstep is??? Welp... here's a sample below (and in my main video)...
I LOVE it! lol. There's so much.... but if you want to listen to more, PLEASE check out Flux Pavilion, Nero, Emalkay, Roksonix (especially Imogen Heap's remix), Slof Man, Numa Crew, Cookie Monsta, and Chrispy. If you love weird, different, and downright bassy stuff, check em out! Each of them have their own sound.
I LOVE it! lol. There's so much.... but if you want to listen to more, PLEASE check out Flux Pavilion, Nero, Emalkay, Roksonix (especially Imogen Heap's remix), Slof Man, Numa Crew, Cookie Monsta, and Chrispy. If you love weird, different, and downright bassy stuff, check em out! Each of them have their own sound.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Cleared.
Ce/C
It's reset...
Took an eraser to the board,
Dry-erase marker, in red
all over the white matter
that makes up the rest of me
all erased.
The graffiti I made
like a mindless kid
that destroys his own
neighborhood
with his own hand,
adding something HE perceives--
I perceive as aesthetic,
anesthetic to me it was.
A joy to look at the beautiful
words against the wall.
"I love her". Written and reinforced with
green...
colors a complement to one another.
Love is surrounded by a ring of jealousy
(or at least mine was)
used to protect what I thought would be mine.
Healthy when you can paint
the town red
and stay within the lines.
Unhealthy when the red strays into
uncharted territory unplanned outside the wall of my heart,
encountering the green-eyed monster
and fleeing for her life, because, she didn't belong there.
Her name didn't belong marked on the wall,
so, painstakingly, I rinsed my mind.
The mistakes,
The stray red line,
but I can still see the leftovers
and I smile.
The graffiti rinsed off, the red and green remnants of my
bright and luminous light
makes yellow, the color of the flower
I'll send YOU, my FRIEND.
8/1/2010
It's reset...
Took an eraser to the board,
Dry-erase marker, in red
all over the white matter
that makes up the rest of me
all erased.
The graffiti I made
like a mindless kid
that destroys his own
neighborhood
with his own hand,
adding something HE perceives--
I perceive as aesthetic,
anesthetic to me it was.
A joy to look at the beautiful
words against the wall.
"I love her". Written and reinforced with
green...
colors a complement to one another.
Love is surrounded by a ring of jealousy
(or at least mine was)
used to protect what I thought would be mine.
Healthy when you can paint
the town red
and stay within the lines.
Unhealthy when the red strays into
uncharted territory unplanned outside the wall of my heart,
encountering the green-eyed monster
and fleeing for her life, because, she didn't belong there.
Her name didn't belong marked on the wall,
so, painstakingly, I rinsed my mind.
The mistakes,
The stray red line,
but I can still see the leftovers
and I smile.
The graffiti rinsed off, the red and green remnants of my
bright and luminous light
makes yellow, the color of the flower
I'll send YOU, my FRIEND.
8/1/2010
Done for a friend a HOT minute ago...
I LOVE this poem... mainly because I personified the season, and totally made it apply to my friend. I'm sure she doesn't mind if I post it... if she does *shrug* she can meet me in the traaaaaap! Cause it's going down! L.M.A.O.
Light breezes, warm sun
Hurricanes and winds spun
Many aspects of one
Autumn.
Leaves change, eventual transition
From a springy green to a passionate red disposition
For the duration of one
Autumn.
The rains are the most torrential
And strangely, the weather is the most delightful
All under one
Autumn.
The not-so-subtle paradox
Of this autumnal equinox
Piques interest in one
Autumn.
A gradual cessation of the scorching summer
To introduce a temperature much cooler
The grace of one
Autumn.
Giving enough preparation
To withstand the wintery desolation
The lessons of one
Autumn.
Light breezes, warm sun
Hurricanes and winds spun
Many aspects of one
Autumn.
Leaves change, eventual transition
From a springy green to a passionate red disposition
For the duration of one
Autumn.
The rains are the most torrential
And strangely, the weather is the most delightful
All under one
Autumn.
The not-so-subtle paradox
Of this autumnal equinox
Piques interest in one
Autumn.
A gradual cessation of the scorching summer
To introduce a temperature much cooler
The grace of one
Autumn.
Giving enough preparation
To withstand the wintery desolation
The lessons of one
Autumn.
Doe
He sits there, all the time
on the bench, he waits.
Some say, it's for the world.
Some think, he's lazy.
Some glance and snap at the mere
sight of the man,
clothed in materials of the earth,
carefully spun
timely undone
Hair a mangled mess,
matte and matted.
Shoes of a soldier,
laces of a veteran
honor of none.
Soleless.
8/3/2010
on the bench, he waits.
Some say, it's for the world.
Some think, he's lazy.
Some glance and snap at the mere
sight of the man,
clothed in materials of the earth,
carefully spun
timely undone
Hair a mangled mess,
matte and matted.
Shoes of a soldier,
laces of a veteran
honor of none.
Soleless.
8/3/2010
Void
a draining pool of darkness
this empty
this blue-hot pit
of black
#000000
is what it registers.
as her heart beats,
the blood seeps
the suspension of life fails slowly
as the pit seethes.
her life swirls into
nothing
only to be torn
and destroyed
(transported)
in (to) another realm
where she feels
unfamiliar
lost
dead,
as this worm hole in her chest
slowly eats at her
tastefully
only to leave part of her
empty,
voided.
6/9/2010
this empty
this blue-hot pit
of black
#000000
is what it registers.
as her heart beats,
the blood seeps
the suspension of life fails slowly
as the pit seethes.
her life swirls into
nothing
only to be torn
and destroyed
(transported)
in (to) another realm
where she feels
unfamiliar
lost
dead,
as this worm hole in her chest
slowly eats at her
tastefully
only to leave part of her
empty,
voided.
6/9/2010
You Make Me Think...
Want
Temptation of,
a carnal
a mental
a spiritual
being,
that
hypnotizes me like
the aroma of peach cobbler
in the kitchen.
It makes me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
Lust of
a powerful
a beautiful
a doubtful
being,
that
intrigues me like
the notion that 2+2 CAN
equal 5.
It makes me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
Knowledge of,
a doting
a loving
a caring
being,
that
causes me to wonder
what it may feel like
to be truly loved by you.
You make me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
Regardless of
a circumstance
a happenstance
a distance
KNOW
that
my interest is growing like
a 13-year-old boy....
exponentially, simply because
You make me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
3/7/2010
Temptation of,
a carnal
a mental
a spiritual
being,
that
hypnotizes me like
the aroma of peach cobbler
in the kitchen.
It makes me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
Lust of
a powerful
a beautiful
a doubtful
being,
that
intrigues me like
the notion that 2+2 CAN
equal 5.
It makes me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
Knowledge of,
a doting
a loving
a caring
being,
that
causes me to wonder
what it may feel like
to be truly loved by you.
You make me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
Regardless of
a circumstance
a happenstance
a distance
KNOW
that
my interest is growing like
a 13-year-old boy....
exponentially, simply because
You make me
believe
that what i want,
is what i need.
3/7/2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Ode to Asmodeus
Ode to Asmodeus
Oh how I want
to watch
the water snake
in the valley;
creeping between
Alpine mounds
brown as Santos mahogany,
bending to the curve of
earth;
quaking,
quivering,
breathing a sigh,
beading to the rhythm of my pace.
Joined union it was,
I melted into Her,
She + I --> We,
and We melted together
as i traveled
along paths,
no maps needed.
different means of transportation
necessary.
Tramping among the Mothers of Earth, indeed.
Oh how i miss the warm earth
covering my ears!
Affirming cries
of wanton
heard just above
the well just
in between the
delicate folds of the earth.
Oh how i miss
soft beating,
onomatopoeia
of emotions coming from
within.
Different lands emit
a different song,
some Sirens,
some Banshee.
Oh how I lived to draw
from a well,
taste of elemental
sin, sweet phermonic
narcotic of a chronic
nature; even
new wells presented a
glory, the mystery of
parting the doors,
ringing a bell,
solving mechanical
puzzles and labyrinths only
to have sustenance flow free
to me;
a glutton you made me
Asmodeus.
You drew me with
every intent i'd
withdraw,
drawing up Spirit,
no more nectar,
only Living Water--
an acquired taste, you
damned Asmodeus.
You caused the Living Water
to be bitter to my taste,
damned one,
ruler on the earth
for which i
dwelled helplessly,
looking for my opiate
of men.
Little do you know,
Asmodeus,
this Pool i draw from
is like Liquid Multivitamin,
healing me.
And I miss you.
But no longer can i want you
within me again,
you damned one.
So be gone! Bounce off my armor!
Oh how I want
to watch
the water snake
in the valley;
creeping between
Alpine mounds
brown as Santos mahogany,
bending to the curve of
earth;
quaking,
quivering,
breathing a sigh,
beading to the rhythm of my pace.
Joined union it was,
I melted into Her,
She + I --> We,
and We melted together
as i traveled
along paths,
no maps needed.
different means of transportation
necessary.
Tramping among the Mothers of Earth, indeed.
Oh how i miss the warm earth
covering my ears!
Affirming cries
of wanton
heard just above
the well just
in between the
delicate folds of the earth.
Oh how i miss
soft beating,
onomatopoeia
of emotions coming from
within.
Different lands emit
a different song,
some Sirens,
some Banshee.
Oh how I lived to draw
from a well,
taste of elemental
sin, sweet phermonic
narcotic of a chronic
nature; even
new wells presented a
glory, the mystery of
parting the doors,
ringing a bell,
solving mechanical
puzzles and labyrinths only
to have sustenance flow free
to me;
a glutton you made me
Asmodeus.
You drew me with
every intent i'd
withdraw,
drawing up Spirit,
no more nectar,
only Living Water--
an acquired taste, you
damned Asmodeus.
You caused the Living Water
to be bitter to my taste,
damned one,
ruler on the earth
for which i
dwelled helplessly,
looking for my opiate
of men.
Little do you know,
Asmodeus,
this Pool i draw from
is like Liquid Multivitamin,
healing me.
And I miss you.
But no longer can i want you
within me again,
you damned one.
So be gone! Bounce off my armor!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Yeah...
I may just go ahead and delete MOST of what i posted here. Part of me doesn't want to, mainly because what is here is my past, and it has shaped me into what i am now...
But sometimes it is best to close doors, brick them up, and punish them for making me into the person I WAS.
I'm just confused about that.
If you don't see things here, it's because it's been deleted. Period. I can't send it to anyone either... if it's gone from here, it is just GONE.
Change is good. Radical change is (r)evolutionary. This can either backfire, or work in such a way that when I look back on myself 5 years from now I will be SO PROUD of myself for doing the right thing.
Fortunately, I have help in doing the latter. That's why I have a list of people i have to thank.
Now for my list of thank you's.
Thank You... my Lord, for loving me despite myself, and for giving me the chance to come to You. You always knew, yet, You made me BELIEVE i had a choice in the matter... i never stood a chance lol. I knew You paid the ultimate price for me, and yet, i still did not do what You ask of me. For that You know i apologize. i love You, Lord. Thank You for your mercy and grace, and i know that from now on i will follow Your word and consider You my Ultimate Dominant. You are the Universe. The end.
Thank you... my bestie, for having all the faith in me, when no one else had faith in me. You were always there with an open mind and heart. I could confide in you everything. You never stopped having hoping that i would come to my senses, and do exactly what i needed to do. You understood that i needed to get tired of my lifestyle, even when i was feeling good in it. And i did. The tears in your eyes for me took three long years. but i got rid of the demons living within me.
Thank you... my Mother, for being practical. I really thank you for being logical. When i become swamped with worry, you always have that level head. You're my Telemakhos, love. I love you so much Ma, that I don't even think saying that will suffice how much I do.
Thank you... friends in Christ, for educating me. For helping me to see the Way, and to want it for myself. I see how God works in your lives. I see how blessed you've become. I hear of how you were B.C and to see you A.D is just wonderful. You all were lights, and you all shined brightly. LOL such peculiar people you guys are. Thank you, and i love you all.
Thank you... friends, for loving me and accepting me, no matter what way i am. Way of the world, or following the Way, most of y'all have been very supportive of me and my choice. I also thank y'all for respecting my newfound lifestyle, but please do not forget that i am still Cierra. i am STILL Cece, and even though i may be a certain way, it doesn't mean that i will sit on a pedestal and judge you. Y'all know i ain't like that. Right now, i'm just elated, and i hope that it doesn't feel as if i am trying to impose my beliefs on you. If so, please check me. Just know that if you are curious, i will try my best to point you in the direction of a Bible, or to show you how the Lord has worked on me. I love all of you.
Thank you... Sir, you have sat down and watched me grow. Never once did you interfere with my growing process, you ALWAYS made sure i saw and learned for myself. It's easy to sit down at a lecture, it takes power to study and grow on your own. I am glad you were there to supplement me... you gave me information when needed, and you were there to reaffirm the fact that yes, i am INDEED growing. Thank you, Sir.
And I am sorry... anyone who had fallen for the demon in me. I am so sorry, it may be a radical change, but be assured that this was for everyone's benefit. I do not want to be responsible for the Spiritual Death of anyone else but myself, nor do I want anyone to be responsible for my Spiritual Death. When your soul cannot enjoy the Eternal life that is in heaven, you will surely perish and be condemned to a state of eternal suffering. Who really wants that? I did not want that demon speaking through me anymore, marking others' souls with tokens of sin, evoking lust, envy, lies, adultery, bisexuality, and the like. I sincerely apologize to those people. I could not help the manipulative and devilishly creative soul that was dwelling inside of me. I apologize for having you joined me in sin.
I think that's all.
Cierra.
7:36 pm
But sometimes it is best to close doors, brick them up, and punish them for making me into the person I WAS.
I'm just confused about that.
If you don't see things here, it's because it's been deleted. Period. I can't send it to anyone either... if it's gone from here, it is just GONE.
Change is good. Radical change is (r)evolutionary. This can either backfire, or work in such a way that when I look back on myself 5 years from now I will be SO PROUD of myself for doing the right thing.
Fortunately, I have help in doing the latter. That's why I have a list of people i have to thank.
Now for my list of thank you's.
Thank You... my Lord, for loving me despite myself, and for giving me the chance to come to You. You always knew, yet, You made me BELIEVE i had a choice in the matter... i never stood a chance lol. I knew You paid the ultimate price for me, and yet, i still did not do what You ask of me. For that You know i apologize. i love You, Lord. Thank You for your mercy and grace, and i know that from now on i will follow Your word and consider You my Ultimate Dominant. You are the Universe. The end.
Thank you... my bestie, for having all the faith in me, when no one else had faith in me. You were always there with an open mind and heart. I could confide in you everything. You never stopped having hoping that i would come to my senses, and do exactly what i needed to do. You understood that i needed to get tired of my lifestyle, even when i was feeling good in it. And i did. The tears in your eyes for me took three long years. but i got rid of the demons living within me.
Thank you... my Mother, for being practical. I really thank you for being logical. When i become swamped with worry, you always have that level head. You're my Telemakhos, love. I love you so much Ma, that I don't even think saying that will suffice how much I do.
Thank you... friends in Christ, for educating me. For helping me to see the Way, and to want it for myself. I see how God works in your lives. I see how blessed you've become. I hear of how you were B.C and to see you A.D is just wonderful. You all were lights, and you all shined brightly. LOL such peculiar people you guys are. Thank you, and i love you all.
Thank you... friends, for loving me and accepting me, no matter what way i am. Way of the world, or following the Way, most of y'all have been very supportive of me and my choice. I also thank y'all for respecting my newfound lifestyle, but please do not forget that i am still Cierra. i am STILL Cece, and even though i may be a certain way, it doesn't mean that i will sit on a pedestal and judge you. Y'all know i ain't like that. Right now, i'm just elated, and i hope that it doesn't feel as if i am trying to impose my beliefs on you. If so, please check me. Just know that if you are curious, i will try my best to point you in the direction of a Bible, or to show you how the Lord has worked on me. I love all of you.
Thank you... Sir, you have sat down and watched me grow. Never once did you interfere with my growing process, you ALWAYS made sure i saw and learned for myself. It's easy to sit down at a lecture, it takes power to study and grow on your own. I am glad you were there to supplement me... you gave me information when needed, and you were there to reaffirm the fact that yes, i am INDEED growing. Thank you, Sir.
And I am sorry... anyone who had fallen for the demon in me. I am so sorry, it may be a radical change, but be assured that this was for everyone's benefit. I do not want to be responsible for the Spiritual Death of anyone else but myself, nor do I want anyone to be responsible for my Spiritual Death. When your soul cannot enjoy the Eternal life that is in heaven, you will surely perish and be condemned to a state of eternal suffering. Who really wants that? I did not want that demon speaking through me anymore, marking others' souls with tokens of sin, evoking lust, envy, lies, adultery, bisexuality, and the like. I sincerely apologize to those people. I could not help the manipulative and devilishly creative soul that was dwelling inside of me. I apologize for having you joined me in sin.
I think that's all.
Cierra.
7:36 pm
Friday, September 3, 2010
Harakiri
Harakiri
I would not wish
your belly to feel the scimitar
pierce through my chainmail,
love.
Stand behind me and
I will kill us,
mercifully,
honorably,
as a battle was painfully lost...
again.
Allow me to end it once
and for all, and all for
once it ends, a sinful
reign of fiery lust.
No one wants to see death,
so stand behind me, allow me to see
the reality of
our tragic flaws reflecting in the
silver of the scimitar.
More romantic it seems,
that i may kiss you
with my poisoned lips, and have
you die in my arms, watching
the end of an era become
glazed and dazed, before
wiping your tears of confusion and closing
your empty windows.
But i cannot watch you die,
love,
this was a battle
for crude,
the black gold i found within you.
Hold me close,
Rest your head on my shoulder,
I want to feel you at my back as
we keel over in the pool
of our own blood,
hot as the
eternal suffering
we will endure
if I didn't kill us.
So be glad
that you cannot feel me
love.
Be grateful
that we are not one
love.
Appreciate my love for you,
and allow me to drive this sword through us.
I would not wish
your belly to feel the scimitar
pierce through my chainmail,
love.
Stand behind me and
I will kill us,
mercifully,
honorably,
as a battle was painfully lost...
again.
Allow me to end it once
and for all, and all for
once it ends, a sinful
reign of fiery lust.
No one wants to see death,
so stand behind me, allow me to see
the reality of
our tragic flaws reflecting in the
silver of the scimitar.
More romantic it seems,
that i may kiss you
with my poisoned lips, and have
you die in my arms, watching
the end of an era become
glazed and dazed, before
wiping your tears of confusion and closing
your empty windows.
But i cannot watch you die,
love,
this was a battle
for crude,
the black gold i found within you.
Hold me close,
Rest your head on my shoulder,
I want to feel you at my back as
we keel over in the pool
of our own blood,
hot as the
eternal suffering
we will endure
if I didn't kill us.
So be glad
that you cannot feel me
love.
Be grateful
that we are not one
love.
Appreciate my love for you,
and allow me to drive this sword through us.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Biting tongues...
the taste of elements.
i shudder at the tingle of
crimson, iron-laden
lifewater that seeps
slowly out the strong
impressions my teeth made;
pressure cracks
of forced reluctance,
keeping Broca* from
forming the words
my mind urges me to say.
I punish the facilitator of my language
because it needs not always to
follow my brain's will.
I punish my mind because of the pain
these words may cause, the stinging of
those words relayed to the
origin by biting my tongue,
therefore, internalizing the verbal pain
that sometimes i WISH i can
inflict on their targets.
so, i have to feel the sharp stabbing,
forever display the marks of a potential sin lost
in transmission,
and
create a lie in order to not slay you
with my tongue.
even one LITTLE word...
and you wouldn't survive this Gatling attack.
Sin still wins, yet
you advance on.
i care WAY too much.
*Broca's area, which is a specific area of the brain that aids in speech production.
i shudder at the tingle of
crimson, iron-laden
lifewater that seeps
slowly out the strong
impressions my teeth made;
pressure cracks
of forced reluctance,
keeping Broca* from
forming the words
my mind urges me to say.
I punish the facilitator of my language
because it needs not always to
follow my brain's will.
I punish my mind because of the pain
these words may cause, the stinging of
those words relayed to the
origin by biting my tongue,
therefore, internalizing the verbal pain
that sometimes i WISH i can
inflict on their targets.
so, i have to feel the sharp stabbing,
forever display the marks of a potential sin lost
in transmission,
and
create a lie in order to not slay you
with my tongue.
even one LITTLE word...
and you wouldn't survive this Gatling attack.
Sin still wins, yet
you advance on.
i care WAY too much.
*Broca's area, which is a specific area of the brain that aids in speech production.
Friday, August 6, 2010
14 and... 41. lol.
Yeah, so... the last couple months have been rough on a sister. Grandmother battling breast cancer (AND WINNING, thank GOD), my dog having to be euthanized, preparing myself for the rest of my life, trying to stand on my own two feet financially so in the future I can walk alone, NO crutches, no wheelchairs, no aids to get me to my destination of stability, financial happiness, and contentment. Oh, and the rearranging of social things in my life.
With that being said, Grandma is good. She's not excited about the treatment making her hair fall out now, but, at least the lymph nodes and the area that had swelled has gone down DRAMATICALLY. I'm very proud of her. She's even abiding by us?!?! Drinking more water, less diet sodas (they have aspartame in them), taking vitamins, getting a bit of exercise, and eating healthier choices to fuel her body. I'm VERY happy. As far as the hair falling out, I guess we both gonna be rocking cesars for the next few months :).
Now on to the next topic. My dog of 11 years, Sable, a lab-chow mix of a several races, so much like the modern human, fell ill about a week or so ago. His hair was lightening and falling out, he couldn't chew, and he barely ate. He wagged his tail when he saw one of us, but other than that, he was NOT the dog I knew him to be. I knew something was wrong, and so did my Mom. Upon further investigation and deliberation, we came to the conclusion that he is either getting weaker from old age, or, he is in the beginning stages of rabies, but that doesn't seem right because he has been vaccinated. Either way, he was suffering, so, we decided that he be taken away. The same dog who was always active, even in his older years, just all of a sudden became this sluggish dog. I think we made the right choice. Something WASN'T right at all. It saddens me, and the thought of going to feed him still pops in my head from time to time, I gotta keep reminding myself, he's not out there anymore. *sigh*
Searching for a good graduate school has been easier than I thought. I found the perfect school to attend. It's close and still a bit of distance from home, the residential area is affordable, and it is accredited for the MSW (Master of Social Work) degree. I am certain about successfully obtaining this degree, and I am MORE than happy about eventually using this degree. I'm also happy about my new second language, American Sign Language *big smile*. Either way, this year is gonna be the defining year. If I do everything right this year, I have nothing to worry about. I just have to stick to my guns, and if I have anything to rely on, it's sticking to my guns. lol. I like guns.
Last but definitely not the least important is, the happenings in my social life. Eh, social life when I'm at home is BARELY visible. Especially being without a job this summer. I make friends easily, it's just I have none to MAKE this summer lol. I don't volunteer anymore, and even WHERE I volunteered it was elderly, and younger teens. Great acquaintances and life lessons, but, not friends to hang out with. So, other than handing out loaves and fishes, #missionfail. lol. School, for me, is wonderful. Not JUST because I'm close to all the friends I'm close to, but because it's much easier to hang out and make new friends, because people are always in close proximity. When I am here in Charlotte, my friends are scattered about. My friends in Charlotte are either: working all the time, MARRIED, got children and a baby parent, in class, or a combo of all four lol. So, when we DO hang out, it is few and far in between, and usually, we spend HOURS together. Usually into the wee hours of the morning. Good, yes? Umm... not when you have a curfew like I do... AT HOME. 2am. Found out last weekend, when I came home at 4am. Yeah. It's time for me to leave this nest. I'm almost 22, with a damn CURFEW? How about THIS is my curfew: coming in as quiet as possible so i won't disrupt my Old Man and Old Lady. That's a curfew that I can live with. It's not even a safety issue. I always got a taser on deck. LMAO. But yeah, my social life includes my love life. I suck at flowing transitions, get over it. It's not an essay.
I have hit a kinda dry spell lately. I've been going to and fro, I found someone I liked.... turned my knob til it was stuck on stupid... and lost all my usual ways and became this animal that took my beautiful, lovely heart out of its black box and just threw it. LOL throwing objects at people is never really well received. Oh well. Just time to move on to the next, as I typically do in these situations with ease. I have learned not to throw my heart at people. LOL, cause it hurts. Call me flighty, call me an existential coo-coo bird that doesn't go nuts for Cocoa Puffs. I'm 21. I'm into new experiences. I'm into falling in love. I'm into doting on people. I'm into reciprocity. I'm not into wasting my time. I'm not into going back to the past. I'm not into giving second chances anymore. I'm not really into having second chances either. That is at the discretion of anyone I've fucked up with. Instantly forgive, never forget is my motto now. It's tough to forgive sometimes, though. I've learned that, in my short life. The world is too big for me to hold on to broken pieces right now. My dreams, my goals, and the ones who are the best fit to be a part of my journey are the things that I will carry on my walk. Speaking of, I think I've found space for some people in my boat. I wrote a poem about how I feel about this person. *smiles* I hope they don't mind if I share this, but lol, I feel like a 14 year old again.
"14"
a jumbled mess
syntax is taxing,
order, meter
off; if it are were what
i not understand could,
the words i have to
explain how...
Stressing what should be
unstressed, rhythm of
iamb off.
A murmur of sorts,
a lub-DUP turns into a lub-
of unflinching anxiety,
the good kind of course.
Butterflies of adrenaline
buzz like beestings of budding feelings.
A tweak in peaking, as acid refluxes
from my bottomless pit.
Familiar it feels. Scary,
or maybe it's my kidneys and
pituitary acting 14 again.
With that being said, Grandma is good. She's not excited about the treatment making her hair fall out now, but, at least the lymph nodes and the area that had swelled has gone down DRAMATICALLY. I'm very proud of her. She's even abiding by us?!?! Drinking more water, less diet sodas (they have aspartame in them), taking vitamins, getting a bit of exercise, and eating healthier choices to fuel her body. I'm VERY happy. As far as the hair falling out, I guess we both gonna be rocking cesars for the next few months :).
Now on to the next topic. My dog of 11 years, Sable, a lab-chow mix of a several races, so much like the modern human, fell ill about a week or so ago. His hair was lightening and falling out, he couldn't chew, and he barely ate. He wagged his tail when he saw one of us, but other than that, he was NOT the dog I knew him to be. I knew something was wrong, and so did my Mom. Upon further investigation and deliberation, we came to the conclusion that he is either getting weaker from old age, or, he is in the beginning stages of rabies, but that doesn't seem right because he has been vaccinated. Either way, he was suffering, so, we decided that he be taken away. The same dog who was always active, even in his older years, just all of a sudden became this sluggish dog. I think we made the right choice. Something WASN'T right at all. It saddens me, and the thought of going to feed him still pops in my head from time to time, I gotta keep reminding myself, he's not out there anymore. *sigh*
Searching for a good graduate school has been easier than I thought. I found the perfect school to attend. It's close and still a bit of distance from home, the residential area is affordable, and it is accredited for the MSW (Master of Social Work) degree. I am certain about successfully obtaining this degree, and I am MORE than happy about eventually using this degree. I'm also happy about my new second language, American Sign Language *big smile*. Either way, this year is gonna be the defining year. If I do everything right this year, I have nothing to worry about. I just have to stick to my guns, and if I have anything to rely on, it's sticking to my guns. lol. I like guns.
Last but definitely not the least important is, the happenings in my social life. Eh, social life when I'm at home is BARELY visible. Especially being without a job this summer. I make friends easily, it's just I have none to MAKE this summer lol. I don't volunteer anymore, and even WHERE I volunteered it was elderly, and younger teens. Great acquaintances and life lessons, but, not friends to hang out with. So, other than handing out loaves and fishes, #missionfail. lol. School, for me, is wonderful. Not JUST because I'm close to all the friends I'm close to, but because it's much easier to hang out and make new friends, because people are always in close proximity. When I am here in Charlotte, my friends are scattered about. My friends in Charlotte are either: working all the time, MARRIED, got children and a baby parent, in class, or a combo of all four lol. So, when we DO hang out, it is few and far in between, and usually, we spend HOURS together. Usually into the wee hours of the morning. Good, yes? Umm... not when you have a curfew like I do... AT HOME. 2am. Found out last weekend, when I came home at 4am. Yeah. It's time for me to leave this nest. I'm almost 22, with a damn CURFEW? How about THIS is my curfew: coming in as quiet as possible so i won't disrupt my Old Man and Old Lady. That's a curfew that I can live with. It's not even a safety issue. I always got a taser on deck. LMAO. But yeah, my social life includes my love life. I suck at flowing transitions, get over it. It's not an essay.
I have hit a kinda dry spell lately. I've been going to and fro, I found someone I liked.... turned my knob til it was stuck on stupid... and lost all my usual ways and became this animal that took my beautiful, lovely heart out of its black box and just threw it. LOL throwing objects at people is never really well received. Oh well. Just time to move on to the next, as I typically do in these situations with ease. I have learned not to throw my heart at people. LOL, cause it hurts. Call me flighty, call me an existential coo-coo bird that doesn't go nuts for Cocoa Puffs. I'm 21. I'm into new experiences. I'm into falling in love. I'm into doting on people. I'm into reciprocity. I'm not into wasting my time. I'm not into going back to the past. I'm not into giving second chances anymore. I'm not really into having second chances either. That is at the discretion of anyone I've fucked up with. Instantly forgive, never forget is my motto now. It's tough to forgive sometimes, though. I've learned that, in my short life. The world is too big for me to hold on to broken pieces right now. My dreams, my goals, and the ones who are the best fit to be a part of my journey are the things that I will carry on my walk. Speaking of, I think I've found space for some people in my boat. I wrote a poem about how I feel about this person. *smiles* I hope they don't mind if I share this, but lol, I feel like a 14 year old again.
"14"
a jumbled mess
syntax is taxing,
order, meter
off; if it are were what
i not understand could,
the words i have to
explain how...
Stressing what should be
unstressed, rhythm of
iamb off.
A murmur of sorts,
a lub-DUP turns into a lub-
of unflinching anxiety,
the good kind of course.
Butterflies of adrenaline
buzz like beestings of budding feelings.
A tweak in peaking, as acid refluxes
from my bottomless pit.
Familiar it feels. Scary,
or maybe it's my kidneys and
pituitary acting 14 again.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Diamonds
A mined diamond
carbon; eons to create,
hours to destroy.
a raw diamond is
a Jeweler's dream, for it
has never been cut.
Some can't handle the
RESPONSIBILITY of
caring and molding.
these "Jewelers", and
i use the term loosely, will
crack gems; deemed useless.
all hope seems lost for
this mined diamond, because the
cracks run in to core.
however, this gem
has not been completely cut,
molded, or shaped yet.
a skilled Jeweler
will fill this shattered diamond
with what she may need.
a Healer, a Love
to restore her to greatness
and destined brilliance.
carbon; eons to create,
hours to destroy.
a raw diamond is
a Jeweler's dream, for it
has never been cut.
Some can't handle the
RESPONSIBILITY of
caring and molding.
these "Jewelers", and
i use the term loosely, will
crack gems; deemed useless.
all hope seems lost for
this mined diamond, because the
cracks run in to core.
however, this gem
has not been completely cut,
molded, or shaped yet.
a skilled Jeweler
will fill this shattered diamond
with what she may need.
a Healer, a Love
to restore her to greatness
and destined brilliance.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Forgotten
No more calls.
Passerby hellos
gone goodbye
No more shoutouts,
thoughts of you: gone.
Pop-up videos
of a shattered memory,
unclear now
and better off
in the distance.
I'm nearsighted,
you're not
in primary focus,
your place is
just past the horizon
where you belong.
Sounds of you fade to black
you went under with
Compton's Most Wanted,
braincells dead
(or at least the ones
you occupied),
myelin unsheathed,
memories unraveled.
Only piece
I possess
is the one that
tells me
I used to know you.
And I'm ok with that.
All that work in forgiving
forgot you,
And I'm ok with that.
No longer do I sting,
all the aloe vera, honey and
quinine eradicated
the love poison
you forced down my throat.
Don't worry, I'm not upset,
I just....... don't.....
remember you. That's all.
What's your name again? *smiles*
Passerby hellos
gone goodbye
No more shoutouts,
thoughts of you: gone.
Pop-up videos
of a shattered memory,
unclear now
and better off
in the distance.
I'm nearsighted,
you're not
in primary focus,
your place is
just past the horizon
where you belong.
Sounds of you fade to black
you went under with
Compton's Most Wanted,
braincells dead
(or at least the ones
you occupied),
myelin unsheathed,
memories unraveled.
Only piece
I possess
is the one that
tells me
I used to know you.
And I'm ok with that.
All that work in forgiving
forgot you,
And I'm ok with that.
No longer do I sting,
all the aloe vera, honey and
quinine eradicated
the love poison
you forced down my throat.
Don't worry, I'm not upset,
I just....... don't.....
remember you. That's all.
What's your name again? *smiles*
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Vision?
Umm.... yeah. lol figure it out cause, idk.
Image:
Something I see
an upside down picture
in the back of my eye
projects forward,
fun mirrors
correcting the fucked,
perfecting the blemishes of life,
hiding the fact that
NO, I am not standing up,
yet, PARALLEL to the
rest of the UNIVERSE.
We all are.
Only ones who stand upright are in
the cold, and wonder,
why did they freeze to death?
Even those who are upside down
Wonder
why did they freeze to death?
No two polar extremes of perception
shall prosper,
so get like the rest of us.
I ponder,
can it see itself
faking the ideas
of my own head? A
live depiction of
my active imagination,
it EXISTS only in the occipital,
where IN my mind fucks itself
and what was REALITY is no longer visible,
clouded by a lust for what I want which is
also what I need--
for my eyes.
My eyes are my worst deceptor,
these divine creations are divinely....
corrupt.
Why do these eyes plague me?
Why is it that
when I close my eyes,
the whole world seems clearer?
In the dark, I can feel the reality,
the heat,
the movement,
and when I step into the swarm
of contradiction, I can FEEL the deception,
I can FEEL the truth,
I can FEEL destiny.
So then, why must I be tempted
to open my eyes again?
Seems as if your OWN eyes are the windows into your OWN soul,
what you see is what you want.
what you DON'T see is what is truth.
Ah, I prefer blindness.
Image:
Something I see
an upside down picture
in the back of my eye
projects forward,
fun mirrors
correcting the fucked,
perfecting the blemishes of life,
hiding the fact that
NO, I am not standing up,
yet, PARALLEL to the
rest of the UNIVERSE.
We all are.
Only ones who stand upright are in
the cold, and wonder,
why did they freeze to death?
Even those who are upside down
Wonder
why did they freeze to death?
No two polar extremes of perception
shall prosper,
so get like the rest of us.
I ponder,
can it see itself
faking the ideas
of my own head? A
live depiction of
my active imagination,
it EXISTS only in the occipital,
where IN my mind fucks itself
and what was REALITY is no longer visible,
clouded by a lust for what I want which is
also what I need--
for my eyes.
My eyes are my worst deceptor,
these divine creations are divinely....
corrupt.
Why do these eyes plague me?
Why is it that
when I close my eyes,
the whole world seems clearer?
In the dark, I can feel the reality,
the heat,
the movement,
and when I step into the swarm
of contradiction, I can FEEL the deception,
I can FEEL the truth,
I can FEEL destiny.
So then, why must I be tempted
to open my eyes again?
Seems as if your OWN eyes are the windows into your OWN soul,
what you see is what you want.
what you DON'T see is what is truth.
Ah, I prefer blindness.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Bleh.
I hate when I can't have who or what I want,
but it's kinda hypocritical when I can't let someone have a part of me.
Eh, deal with it. I sure have.
Enjoy, I guess.
You cannot have this bit
You cannot take me away
pry me off
this ingrained dream
a pebble of
what is left
of this sadness
that nestled in
a little hole,
a polyp in
my little soul.
You cannot be a magician
You cannot remove all of
what was here
it can never
be truly erased
JUST STOP TRYING,
You cannot eradicate
You cannot cure
every ailment I
encountered, you'd just
have to learn
to deal with
the fact that
SOMEONE along the
line, actually did
affect me in
such a way
that it left
a little mark
on my life
and changed me
in a way
that caused me
to love and
appreciate you more.
It's not that
you CANNOT, it's
that you WON'T
have this bit
this small part
of me that
caused me to
love you dearly,
dearie. Just, Don't.
but it's kinda hypocritical when I can't let someone have a part of me.
Eh, deal with it. I sure have.
Enjoy, I guess.
You cannot have this bit
You cannot take me away
pry me off
this ingrained dream
a pebble of
what is left
of this sadness
that nestled in
a little hole,
a polyp in
my little soul.
You cannot be a magician
You cannot remove all of
what was here
it can never
be truly erased
JUST STOP TRYING,
You cannot eradicate
You cannot cure
every ailment I
encountered, you'd just
have to learn
to deal with
the fact that
SOMEONE along the
line, actually did
affect me in
such a way
that it left
a little mark
on my life
and changed me
in a way
that caused me
to love and
appreciate you more.
It's not that
you CANNOT, it's
that you WON'T
have this bit
this small part
of me that
caused me to
love you dearly,
dearie. Just, Don't.
Love and Wannabes
Love
EVOLved lust;
overload of
flame pumping
through each atrium,
each ventricle
of your mind.
the fire brands
unhealing wounds
that never keloid
never disappear;
third-degree burning
impressions on
your soul
with their image
and you revel in that
feeling. For the moment
you feel no pain,
nerves dumbed--
excuse me, numbed
to express internal
ownership of an external
being. ___ IS here.
Ode to Wannabes
a breath
from another
says
"I'll try to understand
when you're down on your knees
in front of [THAT] man".
I will try to understand
that my brain-
programmed;
nerves dumbed down
to receive
the proverbial brand-
chased after you
and away from me.
But I have no concept
no imagination
no cognition anymore.
Only a body lacking
control of its
feelings,
emotions,
heart.
But only if
you knew
how difficult it was to
compact and part
this red sea
running through
me to make way
for you.
You never will know, for
my head rests
in your backpack.
Always behind you,
never a forethought,
only a trailing consideration
that is at the mercy of your
spine.
When you collapse
to your knees,
to service THAT man,
so will my memory.
Remember that.
EVOLved lust;
overload of
flame pumping
through each atrium,
each ventricle
of your mind.
the fire brands
unhealing wounds
that never keloid
never disappear;
third-degree burning
impressions on
your soul
with their image
and you revel in that
feeling. For the moment
you feel no pain,
nerves dumbed--
excuse me, numbed
to express internal
ownership of an external
being. ___ IS here.
Ode to Wannabes
a breath
from another
says
"I'll try to understand
when you're down on your knees
in front of [THAT] man".
I will try to understand
that my brain-
programmed;
nerves dumbed down
to receive
the proverbial brand-
chased after you
and away from me.
But I have no concept
no imagination
no cognition anymore.
Only a body lacking
control of its
feelings,
emotions,
heart.
But only if
you knew
how difficult it was to
compact and part
this red sea
running through
me to make way
for you.
You never will know, for
my head rests
in your backpack.
Always behind you,
never a forethought,
only a trailing consideration
that is at the mercy of your
spine.
When you collapse
to your knees,
to service THAT man,
so will my memory.
Remember that.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Crap Shoot....
Crap Shoot.
I say that
The game of Chance lies within the hand
of YOUR Thrower
and you piss yourself.
--You always thought your
breath of superstition,
your muscles of repetition
controlled the crap you throw
But NO
the One who provided you with breath
as you exhale the carbon waste
your muscles created,
controls the strength of your hand,
the pitch of the dice
as you roll a 7 or a 2.
Not your choice,
for you are just dice with lead inside,
predetermined to land
on a number
of your Thrower's choosing.
Cheater? Maybe.
Ironic? Yes.
Hypocritical? You tell me.
Possible? Well, isn't that what Craps is all about?
I say that
The game of Chance lies within the hand
of YOUR Thrower
and you piss yourself.
--You always thought your
breath of superstition,
your muscles of repetition
controlled the crap you throw
But NO
the One who provided you with breath
as you exhale the carbon waste
your muscles created,
controls the strength of your hand,
the pitch of the dice
as you roll a 7 or a 2.
Not your choice,
for you are just dice with lead inside,
predetermined to land
on a number
of your Thrower's choosing.
Cheater? Maybe.
Ironic? Yes.
Hypocritical? You tell me.
Possible? Well, isn't that what Craps is all about?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Wanted
wanted
Stepping out the lake,
Shrouded in purity
The parts of her whole
made clean
by the
Willpower
of mankind
to strive to a Place
unfathomable.
Paul could envy her
cleansed spirit,
John could not equal her
new heart,
satan could taste the
SWEET
Victory of obtaining her
SOUL
again.
Jesus ran through her veins,
the lifewater flowing out of Him
dripped into her,
and
Beezelbub LUSTS.
A Bloodthirsty
shell of evil who
enjoys the smell of
Christ on her believes
Pure things are
ALWAYS
coveted.
Gabriel rejoices in the
revisit, but
Lucifer also revels in
recapture,
and tempts her
to taste bittersweet Knowledge;
the weakness of man once more.
Stepping out the lake,
Shrouded in purity
The parts of her whole
made clean
by the
Willpower
of mankind
to strive to a Place
unfathomable.
Paul could envy her
cleansed spirit,
John could not equal her
new heart,
satan could taste the
SWEET
Victory of obtaining her
SOUL
again.
Jesus ran through her veins,
the lifewater flowing out of Him
dripped into her,
and
Beezelbub LUSTS.
A Bloodthirsty
shell of evil who
enjoys the smell of
Christ on her believes
Pure things are
ALWAYS
coveted.
Gabriel rejoices in the
revisit, but
Lucifer also revels in
recapture,
and tempts her
to taste bittersweet Knowledge;
the weakness of man once more.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
BLAH.
this is a personal piece, but, i'm putting it up JUST TO TRY to convince a friend of mine to write the uneasiness out of her mind. I felt a hell of a lot better after I wrote it. I wrote it after dealing with a bout of frustration, because i'm going thru this thing where i like this person but i feel as if they cannot trust me because of the "way of the world". I am so patient, however, emotions building just HAD to come out, all of this stuff wasn't piled on by this person, but sitting there doing NOTHING about it would have led to be venting out on this person when they really did not deserve it. all the emotion building had to come out..... somewhere. better on paper or screen than on someone undeserving or deserving.... but, if a relationship's livelihood hangs in the balance, no need to spit fire at this person and burn the relationship, correct? Form your emotions into words, and your words into sentences, and your sentences into music, and your music into ART. It's venting time, I think. PURGE. Like I did.
blah at the world
and all who inhabit it.
all you little earthlings
with your poor disposition
and all your fucking flaws
and your selfish ways
and your little bitchy moods
and your OBVIOUS disdain for idiosyncracies
and your hate
and your butterfly effect
regarding emotions
AND YAWNING...
contagious, making me
susceptible
to your energy.
my dainty shell,
my permeable membrane
I'D like to call my psyche
feels tormented.
feels VULNERABLE.
Earthly anxiety
frustration
confusion
happiness
joy
benevolence
falls through my atmosphere like
beautiful streaks of ugly rocks on fire.
From a high concentration
to a low concentration, the
way of the world diffuses in
to my Martian Dragon lair
FUCKING IT UP.
My little world
has been cluttered
with these damn human emotions.
Ignoring them would be the Martian thing to do,
but
for the first time in a long time,
I feel.... human.
I hate it.
blah at you earthlings
with your family values
and your love
and your perseverance
and your remarkable abilities
and your diplomacy
and your sick-ass strive to perfection
and your ability to
draw a dream from air,
to ransack my lair,
envelop me,
challenge me,
love me,
and your contagious laughter
that makes me smile
and feel
like I AM of this world.
EARTH...
Dragon?
What an amazing contradiction,
is it even possible to be grounded
and level-headed
with all the mighty authoritative power
Earth dragons possess?
A cold lizard that has the ability to warm,
A SERPENT with ANGELic wings
A revered yet reclusive being
Just like humans.
Just like me.
blah at the world
and all who inhabit it.
all you little earthlings
with your poor disposition
and all your fucking flaws
and your selfish ways
and your little bitchy moods
and your OBVIOUS disdain for idiosyncracies
and your hate
and your butterfly effect
regarding emotions
AND YAWNING...
contagious, making me
susceptible
to your energy.
my dainty shell,
my permeable membrane
I'D like to call my psyche
feels tormented.
feels VULNERABLE.
Earthly anxiety
frustration
confusion
happiness
joy
benevolence
falls through my atmosphere like
beautiful streaks of ugly rocks on fire.
From a high concentration
to a low concentration, the
way of the world diffuses in
to my Martian Dragon lair
FUCKING IT UP.
My little world
has been cluttered
with these damn human emotions.
Ignoring them would be the Martian thing to do,
but
for the first time in a long time,
I feel.... human.
I hate it.
blah at you earthlings
with your family values
and your love
and your perseverance
and your remarkable abilities
and your diplomacy
and your sick-ass strive to perfection
and your ability to
draw a dream from air,
to ransack my lair,
envelop me,
challenge me,
love me,
and your contagious laughter
that makes me smile
and feel
like I AM of this world.
EARTH...
Dragon?
What an amazing contradiction,
is it even possible to be grounded
and level-headed
with all the mighty authoritative power
Earth dragons possess?
A cold lizard that has the ability to warm,
A SERPENT with ANGELic wings
A revered yet reclusive being
Just like humans.
Just like me.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Ion even know what to call it...
Every which way the wind blows
is where you go,
I mean,
you move so swiftly
you cannot stay still to save
your life
your heart
MY life
MY heart
you Boeing piece of craftsmanship!
why don't you start drawing from the earth
instead of wind like me?
Seven forty seven, a time you're so fond of
soaring high, adrenaline's like jet fuel to you.
You float all accidental-like on a breeze
you feather. The down within my pillow
I hope you to be, but a bird in the air you remain.
I want to cage you,
but
you won't sing with me.
You wallow within the confines of my heart
cantankerous, cankerous, cancerous you become.
I know without your wind, your flight, your migration
you will surely die, and
the feathers of hope upon you no longer serves purpose
to me
to the world.
So, GET! Fly with your
Luftwaffe,
you 100th luftballon.
is where you go,
I mean,
you move so swiftly
you cannot stay still to save
your life
your heart
MY life
MY heart
you Boeing piece of craftsmanship!
why don't you start drawing from the earth
instead of wind like me?
Seven forty seven, a time you're so fond of
soaring high, adrenaline's like jet fuel to you.
You float all accidental-like on a breeze
you feather. The down within my pillow
I hope you to be, but a bird in the air you remain.
I want to cage you,
but
you won't sing with me.
You wallow within the confines of my heart
cantankerous, cankerous, cancerous you become.
I know without your wind, your flight, your migration
you will surely die, and
the feathers of hope upon you no longer serves purpose
to me
to the world.
So, GET! Fly with your
Luftwaffe,
you 100th luftballon.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Not Accepting Applications
Not Accepting Applications
tears
and raindrops
soak through
the paper
dissolving the ink
and any possibilities
of me
taking the job
that
I felt SO qualified to do.
Hopeful was I,
GIDDY was ME,
a woman ready to
reenter the workforce
for the tough job
of relationships
and when I,
when i
stepped up
to the door
of that INSTITUTION
and saw that
SIGN....
it said "not accepting applications"
and my whole wall of
hope and
excitement
came falling
--a myriad of bricks,
it seemed--
down and
crushed all my...
boy, i'm hurt.
So, now
I stand at the locked door
looking helplessly
at the inside.
Two people
with party hats,
hugging, filled with joy.
Wish one was me.
I can't lie.
But I pass off
my tears as raindrops falling
on my face,
like the skies
cry FOR me,
and walk away.
tears
and raindrops
soak through
the paper
dissolving the ink
and any possibilities
of me
taking the job
that
I felt SO qualified to do.
Hopeful was I,
GIDDY was ME,
a woman ready to
reenter the workforce
for the tough job
of relationships
and when I,
when i
stepped up
to the door
of that INSTITUTION
and saw that
SIGN....
it said "not accepting applications"
and my whole wall of
hope and
excitement
came falling
--a myriad of bricks,
it seemed--
down and
crushed all my...
boy, i'm hurt.
So, now
I stand at the locked door
looking helplessly
at the inside.
Two people
with party hats,
hugging, filled with joy.
Wish one was me.
I can't lie.
But I pass off
my tears as raindrops falling
on my face,
like the skies
cry FOR me,
and walk away.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Dig
This is a poem I wrote in the middle of the night lol.
You can say it was inspired by a friend who uses the word "dig" a lot. LOL.
ENJOY!
Is it ok if I say I dig you?
I mean, you are quite the archaeological find
Sifting through these sands of time,
slowly,
CAREFULLY,
Recruiting more men to help me complete my
excavation,
hoping to find that priceless artifact
You
have hidden underneath all that
Ruin.
All those years of
wear,
abandonment,
DESECRATION of monuments
that once stood
high
with esteem now lay dormant.
Oh, my Maachu Picchu,
my Sphinx without a nose,
my fragile yet complex Terra Cotta army,
what secrets lie below your lithosphere?
You are submerged like Cleopatra's Temple,
as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa,
and as pragmatic as the original Holy Bible.
If I brush the dust away from those
hieroglyphs,
will I be able to
decode you
with my Rosetta Stone?
If I could
discover that
COVETED
National Treasure you guard with
your
puzzling labyrinth that lies just beneath
the surface,
I wouldn't exploit it.
I would protect it
I would treasure it
and
I would share
The compelling tale of how I uncovered
and earned
the valuable treasure YOU held within.
(Written by Cierra T. 3/13/2010 @ like 3 am lol.
You can say it was inspired by a friend who uses the word "dig" a lot. LOL.
ENJOY!
Is it ok if I say I dig you?
I mean, you are quite the archaeological find
Sifting through these sands of time,
slowly,
CAREFULLY,
Recruiting more men to help me complete my
excavation,
hoping to find that priceless artifact
You
have hidden underneath all that
Ruin.
All those years of
wear,
abandonment,
DESECRATION of monuments
that once stood
high
with esteem now lay dormant.
Oh, my Maachu Picchu,
my Sphinx without a nose,
my fragile yet complex Terra Cotta army,
what secrets lie below your lithosphere?
You are submerged like Cleopatra's Temple,
as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa,
and as pragmatic as the original Holy Bible.
If I brush the dust away from those
hieroglyphs,
will I be able to
decode you
with my Rosetta Stone?
If I could
discover that
COVETED
National Treasure you guard with
your
puzzling labyrinth that lies just beneath
the surface,
I wouldn't exploit it.
I would protect it
I would treasure it
and
I would share
The compelling tale of how I uncovered
and earned
the valuable treasure YOU held within.
(Written by Cierra T. 3/13/2010 @ like 3 am lol.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
The Mere Existence
The mere existence
of what I thought
was to be
did not become.
A Dream SO Deferred,
That I can’t Quote the Raven.
Oh how I wanted to Stop for Death
Because love was the Road not Taken.
of what I thought
was to be
did not become.
A Dream SO Deferred,
That I can’t Quote the Raven.
Oh how I wanted to Stop for Death
Because love was the Road not Taken.
Weak
Here is a little po-em I wrote called "Weak".
My knees buckled when your voice caressed my ear
The hairs on my skin stood up when I sensed you near
You were the entity that caused my mouth not to speak
You were the one who made me weak.
Yeah, I made you weak too
Maybe not in the same sense, but anywho…
I was the force that had knocked you off your feet
(even for a second) I am the one who made you weak.
Two people who are each other’s weaknesses specifically
Won’t work; I mean, seriously, think very critically
Attempting to be strong for one another is a spectacular feat
For it’s believed that weak with weak, will always be weak.
To him, this was recognized as a problem
Not truly allowing me to be strong for him
But his ignorant slave would have loved him even through defeat
Because in my heart, I did not want him to be weak.
To me, oh I already knew it wouldn’t work
But the possibilities of capturing my selfish desires drove me berserk
This on/off passion I held was not for the meek
And that bond I felt with him was definitely not weak.
I was clouded by my judgment
And all this extra bullshit that could have went
And disappeared forever, a conclusion that I couldn’t meet
Because "what if’s" always made me weak.
He was still a bit of an enigma,
It seemed that he viewed being with her as a social stigma
Flirtatious, soft, tough, funny, passionate, and a bit of a freak
He always had a way to hide his feelings about the person that had made him weak.
On the other hand, what if I read into something more?
What if he never shared the same feelings as I thought before?
What if this was just a mind-game, and he’s just like, “nigga please”
And that he knew he could take advantage of the fact I was weak.
All this is talk about how I feel, nothing more, nothing less
And that this thing really wasn’t for the best
Not like I can do anything about it anyways, simply because you beat
Me to finding a person who won’t make me weak.
My knees buckled when your voice caressed my ear
The hairs on my skin stood up when I sensed you near
You were the entity that caused my mouth not to speak
You were the one who made me weak.
Yeah, I made you weak too
Maybe not in the same sense, but anywho…
I was the force that had knocked you off your feet
(even for a second) I am the one who made you weak.
Two people who are each other’s weaknesses specifically
Won’t work; I mean, seriously, think very critically
Attempting to be strong for one another is a spectacular feat
For it’s believed that weak with weak, will always be weak.
To him, this was recognized as a problem
Not truly allowing me to be strong for him
But his ignorant slave would have loved him even through defeat
Because in my heart, I did not want him to be weak.
To me, oh I already knew it wouldn’t work
But the possibilities of capturing my selfish desires drove me berserk
This on/off passion I held was not for the meek
And that bond I felt with him was definitely not weak.
I was clouded by my judgment
And all this extra bullshit that could have went
And disappeared forever, a conclusion that I couldn’t meet
Because "what if’s" always made me weak.
He was still a bit of an enigma,
It seemed that he viewed being with her as a social stigma
Flirtatious, soft, tough, funny, passionate, and a bit of a freak
He always had a way to hide his feelings about the person that had made him weak.
On the other hand, what if I read into something more?
What if he never shared the same feelings as I thought before?
What if this was just a mind-game, and he’s just like, “nigga please”
And that he knew he could take advantage of the fact I was weak.
All this is talk about how I feel, nothing more, nothing less
And that this thing really wasn’t for the best
Not like I can do anything about it anyways, simply because you beat
Me to finding a person who won’t make me weak.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Testing.
This is a test.
To see if this will work.
For my friend.
LOL she's having issues and is annoyed.
WOO
WOO
WOO.
That is all.
To see if this will work.
For my friend.
LOL she's having issues and is annoyed.
WOO
WOO
WOO.
That is all.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Wire Hanger
The Wire Hanger
Hang your many garments on me,
Use me to relieve yourself of the burdens of life.
Too many articles of clothing can wear you down,
Destroy your erect posture in life,
Cause you pain
and suffering for many years to come.
Hang your tattered coat
Your holey sweater,
Your old favorite shirt or
That new exciting piece of lingerie
on me, i will be sure to keep it....
Just let gravity take its toll;
Naturally straighten out the wrinkles
of confusion
of pain
of troubles
until you are ready to wear it again...
or just maybe leave it there...
allow the metal to slowly eat away at the support of
your confusion
your pain
your troubles
until that garment
falls
to the ground
denatured;
ready for pickup
and to be discarded,
because it's no longer needed,
no longer necessary
no longer wanted.
Until then, hang your expensive coat,
your Cashmere sweater,
that shirt you hated,
or that gaudy piece of lingerie your ex liked
on me, and i will be sure to keep it.
Hang your many garments on me,
Use me to relieve yourself of the burdens of life.
Too many articles of clothing can wear you down,
Destroy your erect posture in life,
Cause you pain
and suffering for many years to come.
Hang your tattered coat
Your holey sweater,
Your old favorite shirt or
That new exciting piece of lingerie
on me, i will be sure to keep it....
Just let gravity take its toll;
Naturally straighten out the wrinkles
of confusion
of pain
of troubles
until you are ready to wear it again...
or just maybe leave it there...
allow the metal to slowly eat away at the support of
your confusion
your pain
your troubles
until that garment
falls
to the ground
denatured;
ready for pickup
and to be discarded,
because it's no longer needed,
no longer necessary
no longer wanted.
Until then, hang your expensive coat,
your Cashmere sweater,
that shirt you hated,
or that gaudy piece of lingerie your ex liked
on me, and i will be sure to keep it.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Lust
I guess it's a personification of Lust, and what Lust would say to us if it were a being... lol. I was in some Blogtalk thing and just felt kinda inspired to write it. I tried to make a sonnet of it last night, but blah i forgot to save it and my computer did an update, i was NOT about to try to remember exactly what i wrote and just wrote freely. Well, here ya go, ENJOY!
I'm the destroyer of love. When I'm present, you should flee.
I do not care about matters of the heart;
So why do you attempt to know me
If I'm known to destroy bonds as if it's an art?
BAH! Foolish ones! Oh God, please help them see
Through those eyes of Yours what the future saw;
That nothing good comes from flirting with me!
But still you sacrifice your soul in my name, like it's law.
How I pray for your epiphany, a discovery of the answer
Which is, the challenge of channeling my fervor SOLELY to the one
Who does love thee, a feat that is hard to master.
If you can stick to this rule, you have won.
I'm the destroyer of love. When I'm present, you should flee.
I do not care about matters of the heart;
So why do you attempt to know me
If I'm known to destroy bonds as if it's an art?
BAH! Foolish ones! Oh God, please help them see
Through those eyes of Yours what the future saw;
That nothing good comes from flirting with me!
But still you sacrifice your soul in my name, like it's law.
How I pray for your epiphany, a discovery of the answer
Which is, the challenge of channeling my fervor SOLELY to the one
Who does love thee, a feat that is hard to master.
If you can stick to this rule, you have won.
Letter to myself....
Yeah, self-love is essential.
Dear Cierra....
You'd NEVER know how much you'd really mean to me. I have been there all your life, even when what we shared was considered "puppy love". LOL It was great to be there with you. Even though I didn't really know you at the time, I felt like I was there when you were brought out of your beautiful mother's womb, a Libra destined to be a Virgo. Your short life has been filled with great times, along with the bad.
I was there through your bad times, those times when you wanted to shut yourself off and close it up, when you tried to be something that you are not, and when you tried to hide the REAL YOU from me, I was there... somewhere. I was around when you went to your low point, doing bad things, and when you felt like you had no one but your best friend, I was around... hurting because you rejected me, you forgot ME, and I'm supposed to be a part of YOU. I never wanted to leave you, I wanted to be that beacon of light that shined in you, helping you become the woman that I know you can become.
I was there through the good times, the good grades, the friends, so many good times that I can't even remember all of them. It's so hard to list because you know that the bad memories always stick out more than good ones, mainly because you were so fortunate to not have many bad memories. Thank God for that, Cierra.
I am SO glad you have come so far as a person. I'm glad you did NOT let the mud and disdain thrown at you keep wearing you down. Yes, I know you had a hard time picking yourself up, I know you had to dig deep to find me, through all the sludge left in your heart by others tracking mud into it, I'm glad you found me, some of the purest love you still wield.
Dear Cierra....
You'd NEVER know how much you'd really mean to me. I have been there all your life, even when what we shared was considered "puppy love". LOL It was great to be there with you. Even though I didn't really know you at the time, I felt like I was there when you were brought out of your beautiful mother's womb, a Libra destined to be a Virgo. Your short life has been filled with great times, along with the bad.
I was there through your bad times, those times when you wanted to shut yourself off and close it up, when you tried to be something that you are not, and when you tried to hide the REAL YOU from me, I was there... somewhere. I was around when you went to your low point, doing bad things, and when you felt like you had no one but your best friend, I was around... hurting because you rejected me, you forgot ME, and I'm supposed to be a part of YOU. I never wanted to leave you, I wanted to be that beacon of light that shined in you, helping you become the woman that I know you can become.
I was there through the good times, the good grades, the friends, so many good times that I can't even remember all of them. It's so hard to list because you know that the bad memories always stick out more than good ones, mainly because you were so fortunate to not have many bad memories. Thank God for that, Cierra.
I am SO glad you have come so far as a person. I'm glad you did NOT let the mud and disdain thrown at you keep wearing you down. Yes, I know you had a hard time picking yourself up, I know you had to dig deep to find me, through all the sludge left in your heart by others tracking mud into it, I'm glad you found me, some of the purest love you still wield.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Closest Friend, Worst Enemy
This is a story I wrote a long time ago for a class. Just read and ENJOY!
Alone. Afraid. Scared. Petrified; petrified enough that sometimes she just sits in the corner, curled in a ball, hoping that he will leave her alone; her mascara draining down her cheeks. He'd never hit her hard enough to bruise her, only to hurt her. Her coffee-brown irises are surrounded by the reddened whites of her orbs, wide opened, watching his every move. He walks about the bedroom, patting his sweat-laced forehead. She is forced to sit there, after they have an altercation. Of course, he had the upper hand, he's 6'4" and she's only 5'3". She is supposed to love, honor, and cherish this man, why is she so afraid of him?
"W. . .wh. .why are you doing this to me?" she asked weakly.
He glared at her from across the room. Her lips trembled, her hands quivered, her face was covered with the salty water of her tears, and she flinched when he threw the vase up against the wall beside her. It made a thunderous thud in her ear. She was surprised the object didn't hit her, like last time.
"I told you specifically not to talk to the press while we were there at the conference, did I not?" he shouted at her.
"I. . .I didn't say anything bad about you Dave honey," She told him, hoping that would get through to him.
This angered him, and he stomped closer to the woman on the floor in the corner of the room. He bent over, and grabbed the front of her shirt, lifting her off the ground, and pinning her against the mute wall. Only if they could talk, then maybe someone could help this poor woman.
"I don't give a damn what you said! I told you not to talk to the press!" he shouted in her face.
She squinted her eyes and turned her head, smelling the whiskey on his breath. She knew that he wasn't drunk, she just wanted it to be an excuse for why he would torture her like this.
He gripped her a bit tighter.
"What, are you deaf? You must be, because you can't seem to listen!" he yelled in her ear.
"I'm sorry Dave, I'm sorry, please, just don't hurt me anymore," she begged.
Her eyes were always the windows to her emotions. He could see her terror, her pain, her suffering... and he loved every minute of it.
"Oh, poor baby doesn't want to get hurt anymore," he scoffed.
He grabbed her, and carried her over to the bed. She knew what was coming, and she dreaded it. She kicked and wriggled, her arms flailing, trying to break free from the clutches of the monster. She was too petite, too small, and he was too insurmountable.
"Stop! Dave. . . NO! Please baby, I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again I promise, just please, NO!" Deven pleaded.
He slammed her on the bed, and then used his weight to smother her, keeping her pressed to the soft mattress. Any other night, maybe even if the mood was different, this action would be more acceptable.
"Oh, stop, please NO Dave... SHUT UP!" he mocked her, laughing maniacally.
"Why don't you just quit fighting me, you know I'm gonna get what I want. Now, since you're so sorry, I want you to show me how sorry you are," Dave ordered.
His eyes were unreadable, evil, sadistic. He pulled up off of her, and she quickly sprang up, standing on her knees, slowly retreating, silently plotting to sprint to the door, and out of this paradoxical life. It was as if she was teeter-tottering from Fairy Tales to Night Terrors. Her long-sleeved silk shirt was torn, three of the silver buttons missing. One of her Stiletto heels were broken. Her undergarments were clearly visible, her lacy blue bra and matching underwear were showing. Dave's favorite color is blue, and she had decided to adorn herself in those colors to welcome him home. Her shoulder-length black hair was covering part of her face; her red lipstick was smeared, and her mascara trailed down her caramel cheeks amidst the warm tears that streamed down from her wide, almond-shaped brown eyes. At one time, maybe 30 minutes ago, she was like a beautiful Ethiopian goddess, waiting for her love. Now, she looks like a battered hooker, waiting for her pimp to save her.
He takes out his frustration and sorrow on her, hitting her, beating her, cursing her in fits of blind rage, then he retreats, and leaves. Usually the next day, he would shower her with gifts and one time, he bought her a Benz just to keep her there. He would beg for forgiveness, and promise it would never happen again. She would believe him, and embrace the man. He would take her in his strong arms, and when he feels her soft hair brush his shoulder, her hands touch his shoulder blades, he would snarl silently and a sinful grin appears on his face. It's like he is possessed by demons.
"How about... you take off that shirt and lie down on the bed Deven," he commanded in that deep, baritone voice.
She hesitated and unbuttoned the rest of her blouse.
"Yeah, that's good sweetie," he growled.
He enjoyed watching her. He didn't want to hurt her, degrade her, but he had to show her who's boss. He didn't want Deven disobeying him, especially in front of the kids. Want to know why she is partially deaf in one ear? Well, she had defied Dave in front of the kids. Let's say that when the kids were sleeping, all hell broke loose. Truly, he did not enjoy hurting her, he just enjoyed punishing her when she was "disobedient".
She had enough of this, she was not going to sit there and let him degrade her like this. She thought of running to a neighbor's house, even though their houses... er, big houses were greatly spaced out. Everyone had the circle driveway and fancy gates. Just perfect. She had no chance in hell of escaping to a neighbor's house and pleading for help, so she decided to run for the door and press the emergency button on the security system keypad.
"Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do," she thought to herself. She sprang off the bed and ran for the door. The fact that her heel was broken on one of the shoes made running more complicated.
Dave became alarmed at her scrambling for the door, he sprang up and chased her.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he scowled as he caught her by her silver, silk shirt.
"NO!! LET ME GO!" she screamed.
In one fell swoop, he tackled her, nearly knocking the wind out of her, and her head collided with the slate stone floor, knocking her out.
When she came to, she wearily looked about, and didn’t spot her ‘loving’ husband anywhere. She wondered how she managed to get in the hallway. Did her husband drag her out there?
She rose, and kicked off her heels. She walked over to the door, and tried to open it to get into their bedroom. She had difficulty opening it, as it seemed the hinges were stuck. As she tried to open the door, she heard sobbing. The soft cry was child-like, and it alarmed her... What is their child doing in there?
"Aiden? Are you okay in there? What’s wrong baby?" she asked, pressing her head against the door.
"Mom?" Aiden, Dave and Deven’s son replied.
"It’s me, don’t be scared, please, let me in, it’s okay sweetie," Deven tried to negotiate with her son.
"I can’t," he whined.
"Why not?" Deven asked, becoming slightly annoyed and impatient.
It took him a while to answer.
"I did something bad, and you’re gonna be mad at me," he told her, starting to cry again.
"What did you do Aiden? Where’s your father?" she asked, becoming worried.
There was no answer. She began to push on the door, hoping to open it. She glanced down in the small crack, and noticed Dave’s ivory-olive hand lying lifelessly on the grey slate floor.
"Oh my God!" she desperately screamed.
She managed to push the door in and saw her husband lying motionless on the slate floor. She looked at her son’s blank facial expression, and saw him holding his Father’s sparsely-bloodied head.
She rushed to call 911, when she heard her son speak.
"He won’t hurt you anymore Mommy," he told her in a weak voice, "You said you’d hurt anyone who hurts us, so I said I was gonna hurt whoever hurts you."
Deven couldn’t do anything. Dave was knocked out cold. She finally snapped back into reality, and knelt beside her husband. She checked for his pulse, there was one, but no response from him. She looked at her innocent son, and took him in her arms. They called the Police, and said that Aiden thought Dave was an intruder. A few hours later, Dave reached full recovery and was well again, just a bit of head trauma. He apologized, she accepted, and the cycle went on.
The next day. . .
Deven was at her husband’s side, holding that same hand that she spotted lying on the floor. Even though he’s still sleeping in this hospital bed, she couldn’t help but have concern; he is her husband. Plenty of thoughts ran across her mind, some of them were bad. She couldn’t bring herself to think about that incident yesterday. All the pain and suffering that took place yesterday, it was unfathomable, but, Deven wants to keep that pain down the drain. Tears began to well up in her eyes, feeling sorry for herself. Why can’t she just get up and leave? Is it the money? No, she’s been with Dave long before he became a high-profile wrestler. Is it the fame? No, she doesn’t care about his notoriety; she can do without thinking about all the females that would eat the dirt he trudged on. Is it the good sex? Could be, this guy could do things that would make the Kama-Sutra look like a "One-Step Guide to Sitting Down". She thought about it, and it’s more than the way he made love. It’s how he expressed his love, through holding, touching, speaking, looking, smiling. She felt safe with him. She actually felt a deep, unconditional love for him. Maybe that is what it is. She looked at the man resting in the bed. His square jaw-line, his thin, soft lips, his long eyelashes. She was startled when he began to stir.
"Honey?" she said as his eyes fluttered open.
He looked up at her, his ignorantly loving wife. He instantly smiled, his trademark dimples deepening in his cheeks. His kind, ebony eyes locked with Deven’s.
"You okay?" She asked, smiling dearly at Dave.
She grazed her finger through his short, black, wavy hair. He loved that touch, and he hated it at the same time. He doesn’t deserve her, and he knows this, and it kills him.
"Yeah, just a little headache is all," he said, smiling slightly.
It stung him, this torture. Deven was torturing him with her smile, quiet words, feathery touch. He couldn’t take it anymore. His eyebrows tightened, and he squeezed his eyes.
"Why you do this?" he mustered up enough courage to question.
"Do what baby?" she asked, her face frowning with worry.
"Why do you always. . . love me?"
He tried to fight and keep down the painful lump in his throat.
"I don’t know why you stay here. It hurts me so much to look at you after I hurt you."
These words bore a hole in the thin line separating her fantasy from the reality. He’s never said anything like this before.
"You just take everything, all of my bullshit, and I can’t understand why."
Dave’s eyes became misty, as he still tried to hold in the lump in his throat.
"It’s because I love you Dave. I try to put up with this, hoping it would stop, but, no matter how hard I try, I can’t take it much longer," she replied, biting her lips, her eyes spilling their rain.
"I love you too, I just, have a problem. Please, I’m begging you, help me help myself," Dave said, his deep voice quivering with sorrow.
Deven was silent, she couldn’t even look at Dave. She was filled with disbelief. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. He finally admitted he had a problem. She smiled.
"Oh, I’ll help you honey, that’s what I’m here for baby," she said, bending over to give him a hug.
"Thank you, you don’t know how much you mean to me," Dave told her. He then grinned, just like he did every time she forgives him, making this the fifth time.
The next month. . .
"Dammit! If I wanted eggs scrambled, I would have said that, now wouldn’t I?!" Dave shouted at Deven, threatening her with the fork.
He backed her up against the wall, and aimed the sharp edges of the fork at her throat. She almost stopped breathing, from being horrified. She was stagnant, frozen. Her mouth motioned to speak, but nothing came out. He then harshly kneed her in the gut, causing her to bleat and cringe, holding her stomach.
"Answer me!" he commanded.
Instead of answering, she coughed, and fell to her knees. She then thought of something.
Those few seconds progressed, and she looked at her son, jaw nearly hanging on the table, looking at his father hit his mother. Dave crossed the line. She didn’t want her son to see her get beat up again, not if she could help it. She acted upon instinct, and low-blowed him, fisting him in his crotch.
"Ohhhh!" he yelled, and grabbed his privates for comfort, and fell to his knees.
While this was all happening, Aiden looked on, shocked, scared to say something. Deven stood up, and stared down at her husband.
"How you like that huh?" Deven said before using her heavily-adorned hand to back slap him.
The rings on her hand, including that million-dollar platinum and purple diamond wedding ring, scraped his olive cheek, drawing blood. He hissed from the sting. His head turned away and he muttered something.
"...oh hell no..." he muttered. The look in his eyes when he glanced back at Deven could have made Satan himself shake in his fire-proof boots. Aiden caught a glimpse of his father’s usually handsome face, and was petrified, so much that he ran into the other room.
"Yeah, run Aiden, Daddy doesn’t want you to see this," Dave yelled at Aiden, who was already running up the steps.
Dave then fixed his eyes on Deven. He stood up, towering over her. He started smiling at her, that sadistic smile.
"I didn’t think you’d have the balls to hit me, sweetheart," Dave told her, reaching up to play with one of her curls.
She just looked at him with disgust.
"But I must say, wow," he said, feigning admiration for her black tresses.
Deven shoved him quite hard, surprising him. As an almost reflex, he wrapped his large hands around her neck, and lifted her and slammed her on the table, choking her. Again, she kicked and clawed at the hand clasping her neck. His knuckles whitened as he tightened the grip, making it impossible to breathe.
"You bitch! Don’t EVER hit me, or else I’ll kill you, you hear!?" he growled intensely.
She gagged and shook her head, hoping that would help her breathe.
"‘Til death do us part Devenia," he told her, watching her eyes bulge and redden.
Her vision became blurry, and if he doesn’t let up, she knows she’s gonna black out.
He leaned over, and kissed her on her forehead, signaling "goodbye" on his part. Ooh, the sick son-of-a-bitch.
All kinds of thoughts ran through her head at that time. Sort of like a flashback so to speak. She began to see the good times, that took place not too long ago. She could see the blissful expression on Dave’s face when she told him that they would parent a child, the look of utter joy when she accepted his proposal, and when she said "yes". While she had this flashback, something startled her. The grip on her neck was broken, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the ability to breathe again.
"Aiden! Put the gu. . ." Dave stopped abruptly while several deafening bangs filled the room. He fell backward, his soul falling into oblivion. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, while his blue shirt quickly became soaked with crimson blood. No one made a sound. Deven was elated that her Night Terror was over, but why did she still feel alone? Afraid? Scared? Petrified?
Chapter End Notes:
Even though I have been asked this before, I have NOT, in any way, been a victim of domestic violence. I guess I just have a strong imagination, I dunno. But, if you are, or if any of this has ever happened to you, I STRONGLY encourage you to find the best way to get out of the situation before something this awful happens.
Alone. Afraid. Scared. Petrified; petrified enough that sometimes she just sits in the corner, curled in a ball, hoping that he will leave her alone; her mascara draining down her cheeks. He'd never hit her hard enough to bruise her, only to hurt her. Her coffee-brown irises are surrounded by the reddened whites of her orbs, wide opened, watching his every move. He walks about the bedroom, patting his sweat-laced forehead. She is forced to sit there, after they have an altercation. Of course, he had the upper hand, he's 6'4" and she's only 5'3". She is supposed to love, honor, and cherish this man, why is she so afraid of him?
"W. . .wh. .why are you doing this to me?" she asked weakly.
He glared at her from across the room. Her lips trembled, her hands quivered, her face was covered with the salty water of her tears, and she flinched when he threw the vase up against the wall beside her. It made a thunderous thud in her ear. She was surprised the object didn't hit her, like last time.
"I told you specifically not to talk to the press while we were there at the conference, did I not?" he shouted at her.
"I. . .I didn't say anything bad about you Dave honey," She told him, hoping that would get through to him.
This angered him, and he stomped closer to the woman on the floor in the corner of the room. He bent over, and grabbed the front of her shirt, lifting her off the ground, and pinning her against the mute wall. Only if they could talk, then maybe someone could help this poor woman.
"I don't give a damn what you said! I told you not to talk to the press!" he shouted in her face.
She squinted her eyes and turned her head, smelling the whiskey on his breath. She knew that he wasn't drunk, she just wanted it to be an excuse for why he would torture her like this.
He gripped her a bit tighter.
"What, are you deaf? You must be, because you can't seem to listen!" he yelled in her ear.
"I'm sorry Dave, I'm sorry, please, just don't hurt me anymore," she begged.
Her eyes were always the windows to her emotions. He could see her terror, her pain, her suffering... and he loved every minute of it.
"Oh, poor baby doesn't want to get hurt anymore," he scoffed.
He grabbed her, and carried her over to the bed. She knew what was coming, and she dreaded it. She kicked and wriggled, her arms flailing, trying to break free from the clutches of the monster. She was too petite, too small, and he was too insurmountable.
"Stop! Dave. . . NO! Please baby, I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again I promise, just please, NO!" Deven pleaded.
He slammed her on the bed, and then used his weight to smother her, keeping her pressed to the soft mattress. Any other night, maybe even if the mood was different, this action would be more acceptable.
"Oh, stop, please NO Dave... SHUT UP!" he mocked her, laughing maniacally.
"Why don't you just quit fighting me, you know I'm gonna get what I want. Now, since you're so sorry, I want you to show me how sorry you are," Dave ordered.
His eyes were unreadable, evil, sadistic. He pulled up off of her, and she quickly sprang up, standing on her knees, slowly retreating, silently plotting to sprint to the door, and out of this paradoxical life. It was as if she was teeter-tottering from Fairy Tales to Night Terrors. Her long-sleeved silk shirt was torn, three of the silver buttons missing. One of her Stiletto heels were broken. Her undergarments were clearly visible, her lacy blue bra and matching underwear were showing. Dave's favorite color is blue, and she had decided to adorn herself in those colors to welcome him home. Her shoulder-length black hair was covering part of her face; her red lipstick was smeared, and her mascara trailed down her caramel cheeks amidst the warm tears that streamed down from her wide, almond-shaped brown eyes. At one time, maybe 30 minutes ago, she was like a beautiful Ethiopian goddess, waiting for her love. Now, she looks like a battered hooker, waiting for her pimp to save her.
He takes out his frustration and sorrow on her, hitting her, beating her, cursing her in fits of blind rage, then he retreats, and leaves. Usually the next day, he would shower her with gifts and one time, he bought her a Benz just to keep her there. He would beg for forgiveness, and promise it would never happen again. She would believe him, and embrace the man. He would take her in his strong arms, and when he feels her soft hair brush his shoulder, her hands touch his shoulder blades, he would snarl silently and a sinful grin appears on his face. It's like he is possessed by demons.
"How about... you take off that shirt and lie down on the bed Deven," he commanded in that deep, baritone voice.
She hesitated and unbuttoned the rest of her blouse.
"Yeah, that's good sweetie," he growled.
He enjoyed watching her. He didn't want to hurt her, degrade her, but he had to show her who's boss. He didn't want Deven disobeying him, especially in front of the kids. Want to know why she is partially deaf in one ear? Well, she had defied Dave in front of the kids. Let's say that when the kids were sleeping, all hell broke loose. Truly, he did not enjoy hurting her, he just enjoyed punishing her when she was "disobedient".
She had enough of this, she was not going to sit there and let him degrade her like this. She thought of running to a neighbor's house, even though their houses... er, big houses were greatly spaced out. Everyone had the circle driveway and fancy gates. Just perfect. She had no chance in hell of escaping to a neighbor's house and pleading for help, so she decided to run for the door and press the emergency button on the security system keypad.
"Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do," she thought to herself. She sprang off the bed and ran for the door. The fact that her heel was broken on one of the shoes made running more complicated.
Dave became alarmed at her scrambling for the door, he sprang up and chased her.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he scowled as he caught her by her silver, silk shirt.
"NO!! LET ME GO!" she screamed.
In one fell swoop, he tackled her, nearly knocking the wind out of her, and her head collided with the slate stone floor, knocking her out.
When she came to, she wearily looked about, and didn’t spot her ‘loving’ husband anywhere. She wondered how she managed to get in the hallway. Did her husband drag her out there?
She rose, and kicked off her heels. She walked over to the door, and tried to open it to get into their bedroom. She had difficulty opening it, as it seemed the hinges were stuck. As she tried to open the door, she heard sobbing. The soft cry was child-like, and it alarmed her... What is their child doing in there?
"Aiden? Are you okay in there? What’s wrong baby?" she asked, pressing her head against the door.
"Mom?" Aiden, Dave and Deven’s son replied.
"It’s me, don’t be scared, please, let me in, it’s okay sweetie," Deven tried to negotiate with her son.
"I can’t," he whined.
"Why not?" Deven asked, becoming slightly annoyed and impatient.
It took him a while to answer.
"I did something bad, and you’re gonna be mad at me," he told her, starting to cry again.
"What did you do Aiden? Where’s your father?" she asked, becoming worried.
There was no answer. She began to push on the door, hoping to open it. She glanced down in the small crack, and noticed Dave’s ivory-olive hand lying lifelessly on the grey slate floor.
"Oh my God!" she desperately screamed.
She managed to push the door in and saw her husband lying motionless on the slate floor. She looked at her son’s blank facial expression, and saw him holding his Father’s sparsely-bloodied head.
She rushed to call 911, when she heard her son speak.
"He won’t hurt you anymore Mommy," he told her in a weak voice, "You said you’d hurt anyone who hurts us, so I said I was gonna hurt whoever hurts you."
Deven couldn’t do anything. Dave was knocked out cold. She finally snapped back into reality, and knelt beside her husband. She checked for his pulse, there was one, but no response from him. She looked at her innocent son, and took him in her arms. They called the Police, and said that Aiden thought Dave was an intruder. A few hours later, Dave reached full recovery and was well again, just a bit of head trauma. He apologized, she accepted, and the cycle went on.
The next day. . .
Deven was at her husband’s side, holding that same hand that she spotted lying on the floor. Even though he’s still sleeping in this hospital bed, she couldn’t help but have concern; he is her husband. Plenty of thoughts ran across her mind, some of them were bad. She couldn’t bring herself to think about that incident yesterday. All the pain and suffering that took place yesterday, it was unfathomable, but, Deven wants to keep that pain down the drain. Tears began to well up in her eyes, feeling sorry for herself. Why can’t she just get up and leave? Is it the money? No, she’s been with Dave long before he became a high-profile wrestler. Is it the fame? No, she doesn’t care about his notoriety; she can do without thinking about all the females that would eat the dirt he trudged on. Is it the good sex? Could be, this guy could do things that would make the Kama-Sutra look like a "One-Step Guide to Sitting Down". She thought about it, and it’s more than the way he made love. It’s how he expressed his love, through holding, touching, speaking, looking, smiling. She felt safe with him. She actually felt a deep, unconditional love for him. Maybe that is what it is. She looked at the man resting in the bed. His square jaw-line, his thin, soft lips, his long eyelashes. She was startled when he began to stir.
"Honey?" she said as his eyes fluttered open.
He looked up at her, his ignorantly loving wife. He instantly smiled, his trademark dimples deepening in his cheeks. His kind, ebony eyes locked with Deven’s.
"You okay?" She asked, smiling dearly at Dave.
She grazed her finger through his short, black, wavy hair. He loved that touch, and he hated it at the same time. He doesn’t deserve her, and he knows this, and it kills him.
"Yeah, just a little headache is all," he said, smiling slightly.
It stung him, this torture. Deven was torturing him with her smile, quiet words, feathery touch. He couldn’t take it anymore. His eyebrows tightened, and he squeezed his eyes.
"Why you do this?" he mustered up enough courage to question.
"Do what baby?" she asked, her face frowning with worry.
"Why do you always. . . love me?"
He tried to fight and keep down the painful lump in his throat.
"I don’t know why you stay here. It hurts me so much to look at you after I hurt you."
These words bore a hole in the thin line separating her fantasy from the reality. He’s never said anything like this before.
"You just take everything, all of my bullshit, and I can’t understand why."
Dave’s eyes became misty, as he still tried to hold in the lump in his throat.
"It’s because I love you Dave. I try to put up with this, hoping it would stop, but, no matter how hard I try, I can’t take it much longer," she replied, biting her lips, her eyes spilling their rain.
"I love you too, I just, have a problem. Please, I’m begging you, help me help myself," Dave said, his deep voice quivering with sorrow.
Deven was silent, she couldn’t even look at Dave. She was filled with disbelief. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. He finally admitted he had a problem. She smiled.
"Oh, I’ll help you honey, that’s what I’m here for baby," she said, bending over to give him a hug.
"Thank you, you don’t know how much you mean to me," Dave told her. He then grinned, just like he did every time she forgives him, making this the fifth time.
The next month. . .
"Dammit! If I wanted eggs scrambled, I would have said that, now wouldn’t I?!" Dave shouted at Deven, threatening her with the fork.
He backed her up against the wall, and aimed the sharp edges of the fork at her throat. She almost stopped breathing, from being horrified. She was stagnant, frozen. Her mouth motioned to speak, but nothing came out. He then harshly kneed her in the gut, causing her to bleat and cringe, holding her stomach.
"Answer me!" he commanded.
Instead of answering, she coughed, and fell to her knees. She then thought of something.
Those few seconds progressed, and she looked at her son, jaw nearly hanging on the table, looking at his father hit his mother. Dave crossed the line. She didn’t want her son to see her get beat up again, not if she could help it. She acted upon instinct, and low-blowed him, fisting him in his crotch.
"Ohhhh!" he yelled, and grabbed his privates for comfort, and fell to his knees.
While this was all happening, Aiden looked on, shocked, scared to say something. Deven stood up, and stared down at her husband.
"How you like that huh?" Deven said before using her heavily-adorned hand to back slap him.
The rings on her hand, including that million-dollar platinum and purple diamond wedding ring, scraped his olive cheek, drawing blood. He hissed from the sting. His head turned away and he muttered something.
"...oh hell no..." he muttered. The look in his eyes when he glanced back at Deven could have made Satan himself shake in his fire-proof boots. Aiden caught a glimpse of his father’s usually handsome face, and was petrified, so much that he ran into the other room.
"Yeah, run Aiden, Daddy doesn’t want you to see this," Dave yelled at Aiden, who was already running up the steps.
Dave then fixed his eyes on Deven. He stood up, towering over her. He started smiling at her, that sadistic smile.
"I didn’t think you’d have the balls to hit me, sweetheart," Dave told her, reaching up to play with one of her curls.
She just looked at him with disgust.
"But I must say, wow," he said, feigning admiration for her black tresses.
Deven shoved him quite hard, surprising him. As an almost reflex, he wrapped his large hands around her neck, and lifted her and slammed her on the table, choking her. Again, she kicked and clawed at the hand clasping her neck. His knuckles whitened as he tightened the grip, making it impossible to breathe.
"You bitch! Don’t EVER hit me, or else I’ll kill you, you hear!?" he growled intensely.
She gagged and shook her head, hoping that would help her breathe.
"‘Til death do us part Devenia," he told her, watching her eyes bulge and redden.
Her vision became blurry, and if he doesn’t let up, she knows she’s gonna black out.
He leaned over, and kissed her on her forehead, signaling "goodbye" on his part. Ooh, the sick son-of-a-bitch.
All kinds of thoughts ran through her head at that time. Sort of like a flashback so to speak. She began to see the good times, that took place not too long ago. She could see the blissful expression on Dave’s face when she told him that they would parent a child, the look of utter joy when she accepted his proposal, and when she said "yes". While she had this flashback, something startled her. The grip on her neck was broken, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the ability to breathe again.
"Aiden! Put the gu. . ." Dave stopped abruptly while several deafening bangs filled the room. He fell backward, his soul falling into oblivion. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, while his blue shirt quickly became soaked with crimson blood. No one made a sound. Deven was elated that her Night Terror was over, but why did she still feel alone? Afraid? Scared? Petrified?
Chapter End Notes:
Even though I have been asked this before, I have NOT, in any way, been a victim of domestic violence. I guess I just have a strong imagination, I dunno. But, if you are, or if any of this has ever happened to you, I STRONGLY encourage you to find the best way to get out of the situation before something this awful happens.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
First Post of the Year... The End(?)
First I would like to say "Happy New Year"!
Yeah, this poem came to me kinda accidentally. Someone told me to write cause They were waiting on it (in a way), so... I wrote lol. In doing so, I lost all thoughts and wrote whatever was in my unconscious. I learned that my unconscious is having some issues... that kinda bothers me, consciously. I don't know where the hell this came from, but, this is in me.... somewhere. Therapy is good for me, and can in turn be good for you, the reader. LOL ENJOY!
THE END.....(?)
The ender of all things,
The reason why the fat lady sings...
The bow at the end of the show,
The one with the cane who says "No, no mo'".
Could it possibly be
The entity that stopped what's happening to me?
...Divine intervention
Or demonic fruition?
Past wrongs, past rights
Some feelings are gloomy some of them nice
Fighting to keep the negative down
Hoping this pneumonia of the soul doesn't cause me to drown.
But I will keep my optimism high,
and cast out of my soul all the lye
that eats at me from the inside out,
No, this is not the end, without a shadow of a doubt.
To the end, I say
"Do not place me in a stalemate, I pray
I cannot stay in an unproductive war
Cause I know as I age, there will be more."
Yeah, this poem came to me kinda accidentally. Someone told me to write cause They were waiting on it (in a way), so... I wrote lol. In doing so, I lost all thoughts and wrote whatever was in my unconscious. I learned that my unconscious is having some issues... that kinda bothers me, consciously. I don't know where the hell this came from, but, this is in me.... somewhere. Therapy is good for me, and can in turn be good for you, the reader. LOL ENJOY!
THE END.....(?)
The ender of all things,
The reason why the fat lady sings...
The bow at the end of the show,
The one with the cane who says "No, no mo'".
Could it possibly be
The entity that stopped what's happening to me?
...Divine intervention
Or demonic fruition?
Past wrongs, past rights
Some feelings are gloomy some of them nice
Fighting to keep the negative down
Hoping this pneumonia of the soul doesn't cause me to drown.
But I will keep my optimism high,
and cast out of my soul all the lye
that eats at me from the inside out,
No, this is not the end, without a shadow of a doubt.
To the end, I say
"Do not place me in a stalemate, I pray
I cannot stay in an unproductive war
Cause I know as I age, there will be more."
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