Fear

I'd purge, if I felt there was something viable to purge.

I'd cry, if I saw the end of tears.

I'd scratch off my face, if it ended this pain.

I'd kill my own self,

If it only killed the 'self' that feels this way.

If it made sure that version,

That weak, mutable self that I became in your eyes,

Was finally lost into some forest I lead it into, 

As if some wicked, wanton, ill gotten pet.

We deal as we deal
Form what we had to deal with
As we were dealing with 
What we'd been dealing with 
And throughout it all
Oh, so oddly enough, 
We are in fact dealing
While our minds are screaming
"You're not dealing!" 
But aren't we?

 

 

That singular part of me that will die before it gives up on you, involuntarily moves the rest of me.

You, of course, being the law I broke out of my own book of rules. 

You can't help her

You can't help the person I turn into out of rage, anger, lust, envy, jealous, 

unease whose unhealed and triggered.

You can only help the listening ear that laps at the shore of healing.

Do you hate the broken bits of her you also possess?

Aliens in trees guy

I've never stopped thinking about you.

Just that.

Love me, hate me,

Have an unnaturally vivid unhealthy thought pattern concerning the mere mention of my name.

But you, Sir,

Have never left my mind.
After so many people who have dinged that doorbell to enter my store keep!

So many draws they've unnecessarily pulled open and rooted around and looked through inside me

To help them prove their own points

To help them navigate their own delusional paths

To help them feel better about their 'better' lives

To help them heal

To help them learn

To help them just continue on the same path they were going.

But you, sir, opened all the draws

And just looked.

And saw.

And asked questions.

And looked at me

And wanted to learn.

Not specifically for an agenda of yours

But for the sake of learning 

For the sake of the gestational existential period of time we shared briefly  inside of this mediocre land of strife and pain 

we called life

You wanted to learn what I have learned and seen what I have seen for the very sake of seeing it too and somehow 

learning.

So no, you're not forgotten sir.

I will always come back to your book

I will always come back to your eyes

I will always come back to your face

Your thoughts

Your questions

Your answers

Your stories

And your presence that I hold inside me like whiffs of smoke candles give off