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.

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*

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.