The Pen and The Wind

Sitting in a fleeting space,
While time and people pass through,
You’re on your way to anywhere,
When a chance encounter happens to you.

Something about them catches your eye,
And you try to stare discretely,
Trying to see everything about them,
Wondering if you should engage or flee.

You see a couple of things that inspire hope,
And you try to extrapolate a whole persona from it,
But then your fantasy crashes around you,
And your fear’s fire is soon lit.

You stand there cowering, unsure,
Not knowing if the risk outweighs the hope,
They could be what destroys your soul,
Or the one who makes you want to elope.

But before you can even decide,
Your chance encounter is done,
And you don’t know if your life is saved,
Or you just lost your Eden.

I walk down the streets in tattered rags,
They used to be a suit of finery,
But got so badly torn,
By the rocks that children throw at me.

A stone catches my head,
Bleeding, I carry on to my nowhere,
I’m so tired from all this blood loss,
I don’t know when my steps will end.

My steps have become strained,
And I have to fight through the shivers,
My body quakes from the cold,
It never knew a warm loving touch.

And bur oaks rot in the skyline,
As anything I hoped to know dies in the sky,
Any strength that I could hope to muster,
Suffocated from the damned dreams and expectations.

How could one survive in a horrid world,
When all the tears of forlorn dreams pools around you,
And when the water is deep enough to drown in,
Will I want to even try to swim?

I’ll hold my breath for so long,
Hoping I’m light enough to float,
But those children tie rocks to my feet,
So I’m becoming less and less buoyant.

But I’m so tired,
And so cold,
I don’t think I can do it any more,
And stillness is slowly setting in.

Lovely love and lusty lust,
Have crossed your mind once I trust,
Imagine if you were to find,
Those two constantly in your mind,
I imagine you would go mad,
I know I did, but It’s hardly bad,
It can leaves with thoughts divine,
Your head can be a salacious shrine,
But without a release of love and lust,
You find it quite painful I trust,
And soon your mind might erode,
It’s gone on so long, I just might explode.

I curse the lack of maturity,
In this world surrounding me,
For one so wizened by pain of the world,
Seeks like companions in to keep life unfurled.
And not to mention the matters of love,
They take my heart and down my throat shove,
Because they know not how their own world’s spin,
Or how to see the beauty within, 
Yes these are the ones who adore me,
And I give so much love to those who see,
The beauty within my windswept mind,
And I know there’s more to them to find,
But alas those people are far away,
And awash in immaturity I must stay.

The ragdoll nature of us all,
Carelessly tossed about by fate,
Or so we feel,
Not knowing how it really is. 

That is, until that person,
Who changes so much of us,
And makes us all for the better,
Entangles us within their red strings,
And you find it so enthralling. 

And though these threads may be cut,
You must never feel alone because,
One will always remain between you two,
And over time, your strings become numerous,
And it is then you realize:

We are not ragdolls,
So carelessly tossed around,
But pulled by these threads of fate,
Into becoming who we are destined to be.

An event horizon in my head,
A black hole in my heart,
The collapsed hopes and dreams of mine,
Prove to be too great to the world around,
And make an inescapable void,
For which all light eventually falls into,
And those who stand too close,
Shall run away in primal fear,
For when they see that abyss,
It stares into their soul as well,
And they all clear from the event horizon.

Brushes and quills lie,
Dust covered and bone dry,
With ink and paint long caked on,
Where has their artist gone?

She’s gone and left them behind,
On her way, but nothing to find,
Stumbling in a pleasure filled daze,
Ambition lost in that pleasure haze.

She’s lost within her own mind,
Pleasure her drug, there’s no other kind,
Throwing spark and drive away,
Doing everything to make pleasure stay.

Her mind, pleasure will overtake,
Because a hedonistic life will make a mind break.
And another artist is then lost,
Another ruined by a life so crossed.

One pill rests on your table,
A pill you are simply staring at,
Weighing the benefits,
Against the implications,
Torn, you just stare at the pill.

That small capsule,
Can relieve that pain you have,
That which tortures you relentlessly,
That darkness which haunts you every moment.
You could finally be free.

But what is the cost of such freedom?
Nothing comes without a price.
And that pill can do so much,
By numbing your mind and soul,
So you can live without darkness,
But too dim for light either.

Is life without that light and dark,
Can that be called living?
For though you may dwell in excess,
Is it worth killing your soul,
To free you from that hell that haunts you constantly?

One pill rests on your table,
One that can save you by killing you,
And you’re unable to decide,
Or to see any other way.

To see two so absorbed in each other,
It really doesn’t seem like so much,
But to me, when seeing such a sight,
I fear I may lose my lunch.

Your public acts of affection,
Make me so terribly ill,
When I witness you nuzzle or kiss,
I reach for a Pepto pill.

And your lovey dovey talk,
Sets me ablaze with heartburn,
I urge you to keep it up,
If you wish to see my stomach upturn.

But when I think and look at it,
It’s probably just my jealousy,
But that doesn’t mean your relationship,
Is a sight for the world to see.

I find myself a pinata,
In a terribly good wrapping,
So clever that you actually can’t tell what I am.

Because of this,
No one has broken me open,
And found the delicious candy inside.