sinners

Forget you.

The minutes turn to hours. These months are moving faster then days in the year. When did that happen? When did months fly by faster then the actual days. Something is missing. Something is losing it’s place with me. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s slowly further from my reach, way beyond my grasp. If I reach for it, it’s no longer there. Disappeared into the months that move faster than the days.

Its was either you or me. You with your sad, melancholy feelings. You with your never ending excuses, line after line of lies that you word so eloquently. You against the world, or something like that. Anchors holding you down, to help you from steering off course. We were all pawns in your game of life. Another person you lined up, to shoot back down again. YOU are what matters. YOU are what holds all this clout.

You, you, and only YOU.

Selfish is, as selfish does. Cherry pick only the things that matter and that fit our needs. Everyone against you. Everyone having what you wanted. Everyone having what you needed. These countless stories of being the warrior in battle, going off to war. As always, only you.

You.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind? How could I have believed these stories that were mere myths to an average person. That was you. All you, right?

You.

When I no longer have to pick up the pieces of you, its becoming easier to forget you. When your ghost stops haunting my sleep, it’s easier to forget you. To leave these memories and misplace these feelings of what never was. I could never be that selfish. I could never be that petty. Maybe I was a fool in believing, a fool in deceiving all these lies. You were the master conductor of this orchestrated drama. How delicately you picked at your strings and watched people come back to you. How violently you cut those same strings when they didn’t seem to fit in your world. I could forgive you. Forgive every single perfectly worded explanation. How can I forgive a person, I am already forgetting?

If only you knew how easily people can misplace you. How easily they can forget everything. All I want is to forget everything about you. Its easy to make up mythical stories of battles and wars. Stories about the world being so tragically against you. The minutes turn to hours, the days become months, and like a well dressed villain your name seems to escape me. You are easily forgotten, and forgetting you is easily done.

5/10/2014

 

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The Big Bad Wolf.

I’ll huff.
I’ll puff.
I’ll blow your house down.

Everything you hold dear. Everything you care so much for. Blow your house of cards into a stack of nothing. Because I am the crazy one. I am the one who can’t control emotions. Like clockwork;  I huff, puff, and blow your house down.

I am a villain in a valley of victims. The big bad wolf everyone is afraid of. Don’t tell me how you feel, because you’re afraid of how I’ll react. Keep things from me, because it will spare my feelings. Tell me lies because it’s sweeter than the truth. Make believe and fantasy is all you should ever give me. Everything is my fault and everything I do is just a reaction to your proof.

I’ll huff.
I’ll puff.
I’ll blow your house down.

Never believe the one that speaks louder than a whisper. Don’t believe the person with a scarlet letter across their chest. They can’t be trusted. They’re the crazy ones. Don’t believe the tears of a woman because even a woman lies. We all become what everyone hates. The deepest darkest nightmares in truest forms. All we are is vessels to point the blame upon. One finger you gracefully point at me, just know there are three pointing back at you. Keep pointing your fingers down at me, from the pedestal from which you stand upon. It’s foundation made of lies and all the villainous corpses you’ve accounted for.

Oh my, how high people sit on their throne of lies in order to keep up with the masses. It’s easy to pit everyone against each other when you wear the crown. Making wars between the sinners and keeping heroes of the saints. Picking your victorious battles while still losing the wars. I am far to smart to believe the cries of a boy who calls wolf. To believe the silent whimpers of the untouchable sheep. You’re a big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing. You’re the boy who always cries wolf. The louder you squeal the more people will listen. We’re all suckers for tragedy. We all love the misfortunes of others. Seldom triumph over anyone’s victory. I know far too much to ever let you win. You can spread your lies to the masses. Tell them every vulnerability I account for. But you will never win. I am unbreakable. I am safe and I am sound, and I will not be defeated.

Come little sheep. Come little piggies. Build before me your house of cards. Build it high, build it low, build it strong, and build it sturdy. I am not the one you should be afraid of. Be careful for the wolf hidden in the sheep’s clothing. Stay clear of silent voices that speak sweet lies through direct honesty. Be careful of the king who lead battles for war to only massacre the innocent.

I may have always been the villain, but the only villain I see here is you.

8/21/2008

 

 

The Boy who blocked his own shot.

Lies are sweeter than the truth. Sweet as candy that burns and decays below the surface. It doesn’t hurt when it’s sweet. It doesn’t hurt to believe, but it hurts when you leave and you watch everything burn into nothing. People love a hero. They love a captain that takes charge of the ship, even when you drift off course. Its the course that you stick with, the course that you lie with, the course that you can’t help but pretend doesn’t exist. Until everyone knows and you make villains out of saints because it’s what you know best. As far as everyone is concerned there is only one hero. Everyone else is just a storm of villains that drives the ship off its course.

Everyone knows better than everybody else. Everyone has something to say and yet it never truly matters anyway. Because truth will always become lies. Words will always get twisted and you only see what you want to believe. Sparing feelings is better than saying anything. Lies are easier to produce then being honest with the truth. How our lies intertwine into webs of uncertainty and everyone knows. When you make up things in your mind, that are fair greater than any honesty we could see. Honesty is a blunt cut, but we can’t help but dress it up with lies that soften the blow.

I become the villain, that always spoke too soon. I become the hatred, the darkness, the storm that turned to a hurricane. The hero just continues through the storm without a scratch, and I am still cleaning off the salt from my wounds. It only matters what the captain says that turns him into the hero. It only matters if the sun shines down on to the sea and clears the way.

It only matters what you tell everyone, to make yourself feel better. It only matters how much of the story is real, instead of the fabrication you want everyone to believe.

I still sleep soundly, I hope you do the same.

11/16/2015

St. Jude.

I wear my crown of thorns better than the rest of you. I carry forth my sins surrounded by the thousands of saints before me. Because we are all saints, afraid of being sinners. Losing ourselves in this righteous need to be better. Even in our quest of righteousness, we forget that we can still be sinners. We can still fail in the smallest wonders of our need to be great. I forget at times that I can’t always be right, but everyone can’t always point out my wrongs. I may not always be right, but I am not always wrong.

My selfish nature gets the best of me. This constant need to want all the wrong things. Searching through the faces of my wrongs and coming up empty handed. I see these saints with their wooden crosses glued across their chests. Waiting patiently for me to fail, fall, and point out all my wrong doings. I am just one person. Just one person with a life full of sins and a lifetime of making up to do. It doesn’t take a day to build Rome, but takes more than a few words to break down a spirit. I could spend a lifetime changing my ways but its the past that comes back to haunt me. Its my past that doesn’t allow the present to shine through. Its the errors of my ways that allows the countless saints to come forth to “save” me. I don’t need to be saved. I don’t need anything. When its my sins that are counted against me.

Its in this life that I feel like a lost cause. That even praying to St. Jude himself wouldn’t save me. That lighting a thousand candles wouldn’t grant me this one miracle. Cleansing this life clean and washing this slate a thousand times over. Starting over would only bring forth the saints to chase after me with their righteousness. Because everyone else is always right. Its the saints with their fear in the wrong that causes them to believe in their own perfection. Maybe I just need to pretend with the rest of them. Wear my wooden cross glued across my chest to point out the sins of the sinners freely. Even I can’t hide behind a wooden cross. Even saints can be sinners.

St. Jude, I pray to thee to save me from my hopelessness. It’s this life thats a lost cause that needs to be found again. This crown of thorns that has become to unbearable to wear. Its with your will that will help my hopelessness. Its with this power that will cleanse this slate clean. I may not always right, but I know I am not always wrong.

I just wish others saw it too.

7/17/2008