Words burnt into my mind

I don't understand why these lyrics keep haunting me. But I know there's a meaning here.

"I can't take you with me" the Bahamas

I can't take you with me where I'm going
In me there's a new love that has growin'
So now I leave behind all that once was mine
I can't take you with me where I'm going

I can't take you with me that's for certain
Anchored to some heavy red stage curtain
If I should hear you sing
Those words would just make me sting
I cant take you with me, that's for certain

I can't take you with me now I know it
Though the love was in me I did not show it
I found in Berlin who I swore might be my twin
Taken from me with out me ever knowin'

You can't take me with you where you're goin'
You've got no intentions of ever slowin'
My book of baby names
Only does family flames
I dreamt we had a boy and named him owen.

I'm lost. I can't tell fact from fiction. My life is in shambles. I can't trust anyone.

But I never thought it would be different. And it's hard to silence the voices. Especially when they make sense.

The legend of Durt McGurten, chapter 1

The legend of Durt McGurten, as told by B.Z. Whiddum.

Chapter one

Fred stood up and stretched. It was hot today, and he wasn't as young as he used to be. And this fence row wasn't fixing itself. Fred sighed. He was a bit disappointed. He figured that by now society would have advanced enough by now to make manual labor easier. But it was still what it was. Manual.
Popping his back, Fred paused. He could here the shuffle of little footsteps trying to sneak up on him. That boy would never learn. "I see you, Jellybean.” Fred called out. The steps froze instantly. Busted. Laughing out loud, Fred pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. "Boy, are you ever going to give up on trying to sneak up on me?" Fred turned towards the youngster.
Jellybean was a precocious boy of about seven, curly brown hair, freckles and a lopsided grin. To Fred, he was the splitting image of his dad, his grandmother, and his grandpa. Fred shook his head. It was hard seeing so many people in one child. Jellybean was average height for a ten year old. Meaning he was big. Just like his daddy. Fred thought about his big friend Durty, oh the memories those two had made.  Fred chuckled.
Jellybean looked at his "uncle" curiously. He wanted to know what was funny. Being the young lad he was, Jellybean had no troubles articulating this exact thought. Fred paused, thinking before he spoke. The boy was getting more and more curious about his daddy every day. Sooner or later, Jellybean would learn the truth. Fred thought it was best that it come from him. He just had no idea how to go about that.
"Well, son, I was thinking about something your daddy did once, and well it was funny." Fred said.
Fred's response wasn't really adequate, but it was the best he had at the moment. But he now had Jellybean's attention fully. "Will you tell me about my daddy?" Jellybean asked.
Jellybean wanted to know. Fred was quiet for a moment, then he replied "There's a lot to be said about your daddy, Jelly. It's going to take me a long time to tell you about him. I've got a fence to fix today. How about another time?"
Jellybean's face fell. He was crushed. The boy was so desperate for anything about his daddy, that Fred couldn't help but take pity on him. "I'll tell you what, Jelly, you help me with the fence, and I'll tell you about your Daddy. How does that bargain suit you?" Fred offered. Ecstatic, Jellybean promised to do anything asked. It was hard to deny the energy of youth.
Picking up his hammer and directing Jellybean on what Fred needed, he started talking slowly. "I would say that to know your pops, one needs to go to the beginning. But I'm not sure your dad ever had a beginning. We went to school together, but I only started hanging out with your dad once he was already grown. And while I know he had a childhood, I'm sure your granny was glad when it was over." Fred chuckled.
Jellybean was enthralled. He was hanging on every word that Fred spoke. Instructing Jellybean on what he wanted him to do, Fred continued speaking as they worked.
"Your daddy was quite the character in his youth, Jelly. That S.O.B. got me in more trouble than I can count. He got me beat up, chased by a mob, chased by the cops and put in jail. And that was all in the same summer." Fred smiled, continuing. "Hanging out with your daddy was always a roller coaster ride. I think I should give you fair warning that there are stories I just can't tell you until you are much older. In fact, in not sure if there is much I can tell you right now."
Jellybean's face fell. The look in his eyes was almost more than Fred could bear as the boy brought his gaze up to meet Fred's. The boy was good, Fred have him that.
"Now, don't get your panties in a wad," Fred quickly spoke to Jelly, trying to keep the boy from getting disheartened. "Pull that line of barbed wire tight," he instructed Jellybean. Taping a nail into the fence post, Fred spoke as he worked. "I said there were some stories, but not everyone. First thing you have to understand is that I started hanging out with your pops in the end of his senior year in high school. He, we, were a bit wild in those days. I was out of school, between bouts of college, working as a painter. We started hanging out because we both smoked weed and he had a connection and I didn't. Turns out I knew his connection and we were friends, but that's a whole other subject." Fred had the boys entire attention as they worked down the fence row stringing more barbed wire.
"Back in those days, your pops was a bit of a ladies man. Now a days, he just takes whatever lady he can find." Fred said wryly, chuckling. "You got a girlfriend, Jelly?" Fred asked.
"No, girls are gross!", came his reply.
But there was a slight hesitation before he spoke. Fred knew that meant. "Mmmm-hmmm." Fred grunted out, pulling the strand tight before handing to Jelly, as he tacked it in. "Well, knowing your pops, it won't be long before you are. Anyway, where was I?" Fred asked, momentarily losing track of his story.
"You were telling me about my daddy being a whore." Feeling grownup, Jellybean tried to slip in a dirty word.
Fred was quick to respond. "Boy, your granny here you speak like that, and she'll tan your back side." Feeling the boy was sufficiently chagrin, he continued on with his story.
"So, one Friday, shortly after I started hanging out with your pops, I came over to his house after I had gotten off work and cleaned up. It was just getting dark when I got there. I went inside and spoke to UNC, your grandpa whose no longer with us, then went to find your pops. Our friend, Clean, said he was in his room fooling around with this girl. So I was like, OK, and we just chilled in the living room smoking weed and waiting on your pops. Just as your dad came out the room with the girl, we saw headlights pulling into the drive. Clean went outside to see who it was, while we were talking and smoking. All of the sudden, Clean ran in and told Durty that one of his girlfriends was there."
Fred chuckled, continuing, "It was instant pandemonium after that. Clean went back out the back door to head off the girlfriend, while Durty took the female friend out the front door, cause she lived upstairs. No sooner had he exited than girlfriend one came barging into the living room yelling at Clean that she knew Durty was cheating. She accused me of being involved and while we were all fussing, your pops snuck back into his room, and proceeded to come out of his bedroom as if that was where he had been all along. Immediately assuming there was another girl in his room, she burst in looking. Durty followed her, shutting the door and going in. You could hear raised voices and then they quieted down. We, drunk Barry, Clean, me, and your aunt all kind of looked at each other relieved. I suggested we get high, and everyone was in agreement. But before we could start the process, Durty came flying out of room, telling me to go outside and head off girlfriend 2. So outside I went, talking to girlfriend 2, who we had plans with that night. She wants to come inside, I'm telling her your pops is in the shower, trying to buy him time. She wasn't having any of it. So in the backdoor we came. While this was going on, female friend came back in the front door. The situation had reached a head, and doing the only thing he could think of, Clean yelled out, "Oh, shit, it's the cops.""
Shaking his head, Fred looked at Jellybean and continued. "Now you gotta understand that at this time, I had weed on me - which was illegal then. So I took off, Durty took off, female friend turned right around and went back upstairs. Girlfriend 2 ran out the backdoor behind us, leaving your aunts and Clean inside and girlfriend 1 in your pops room. I followed Durty and before I knew it, we were under the house next door hiding. After a few moments, we started conferring and looking. We saw girlfriend 2's car leave, then we heard girlfriend 1 calling us and Clean laughing as he searched for us. Once he got close and assured us that there no cops, we crawled out from under the house. A short discussion later, we were all informed of what was going on. Durty got girlfriend 1 gone, and we eventually met up with girlfriend 2 to go to a party. Where your pops spent most of the night trying to explain what happened without getting in trouble."
Standing up and stretching, Fred looked at the sky. It was getting dark, and they were done here. Wrapping up the story, Fred decided to impart a moral here. "So, the whole point of this story is that when you do decide to start dating girls, just keep it to one at a time. It's much easier that way. Hopefully, this way, you won't find yourself trying to hide under a house from a girlfriend." Fred smiled, Jellybean was vigorously nodding his head.
Picking up his tools, Fred spoke, "Come'on, Jelly, let's go in. I bet you're granny has us a hot meal waiting for us."

Animals

He stared in the mirror. This type of behavior wasn't like him. This wasn't the sort of thing he did. The monster inside was screaming to get out. He knew what had set him off, he knew the reasons. There was only one way to quiet the monster, once awaken. He looked down at the address floating on the screen of his phone. He knew it was the only way.
He didn't really remember getting in the car, driving the distance, climbing the stairs, it was called a takeover. A symptom of multiple personalities, one personality takes over, and boom! You find yourself standing outside her door knocking. He was no longer in control of his own body.
She answered the door, her jaw dropping in shock at seeing him standing there. But that was all she had time to do. He pushed her back into the house, closing the door behind him. He locked the door behind him. Turning towards her, she opened her mouth to speak; he never let her say a word, covering her open mouth with his and shoving his tongue deep into her mouth. Her response was immediate and primal. Her arms came around his back pulling him into her, her leg rose up his thigh, her pelvis turning into his. His member instantly stiffened and pushed into her crotch. She moaned deeply.
Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her off the floor. She responded with wrapping her legs around him and her arms around his neck, allowing him to carry her. This process forced him slightly inside her, clothes and all. She gasped and came, her juices soaking their clothes. Mouths interlocking, he carried her to the bed. Tossing her onto the bed, he stepped back and began removing his clothes. She instantly started doing the same. Completely naked, he pounced onto the bed, forcing her back with his weight. Covering her mouth once again with his, his left hand rose on her body to cup her right breast. Her nipple stiffened under his palm, and she shoved her tongue deep inside his mouth in response.
The monster was raging inside of him, it was in full effect. He had to taste her, he was dying of thirst. Breaking the seal of their lips, he kissed her cheek, her jaw, he nuzzled the little spot of the neck behind the ear. He heard her legs writhe in anticipation. He had found a spot. He locked his lips on that spot, nibbling and kissing. Her breath quickened, little moans escaped her. Her nipples were diamonds, you could cut glass with them. Still nibbling, he slid his hand slowly down her stomach to her pussy. He could feel the soft skin on her belly pimple to his touch. Every inch was bringing her another wave of ecstasy, crashing home in her quivering loins.
Finally his hands reached the promise land, and she came again. The juices were hot on his hand. He sat up, she was ready. He brought his hand to his lips, tasting her. Yes, she was ready. He brought his hand to her mouth, she sucked in his fingers, cleaning herself off of his hand. He wanted to drink from her, quench his thirst. Positioning himself between her legs, he slowly lowered his mouth to her opening. He could see her tense in anticipation. It had been a long time since she had had sex like this. Too long. She needed the release more than the monster wanted to consume her. It was primal, animalistic, soul embracing. His lips touched her swollen clitoris, she cried out. He kissed it gently, then slowly sucked it into his mouth pulling on it. She moaned loud, saying his name in a lustful voice. He released her clit from his mouth. Then lowering his lips a little more, he shoved his tongue deep into her pussy. She came instantly. He just sucked up her cum, lapping like a dog, drinking his fill. She came and came, shoving his head deep into her crouch, calling out to Jesus, thanking him. He just drank. Her cum was sweet, salty, nourishing. Climaxed, she released his head and fell back on the bed spent. But he was just getting started. He climbed over her, laying down beside her. She turned onto her side and pushed her butt into his throbbing cock. She was so wet from cunning, he slipped right in.
It was so wet and hot inside her, that he just left his cock resting deep inside her for a moment. Finally, when she could no longer take it and started rocking her hips, he rolled her onto her stomach and pushed deep inside her, touching her back. They fit so well together. He filled her completely. Length and girth. His tip resting against the back wall, his balls on her clit. Then he started thrusting. Her legs were closed, and he was pushing in deep. Every thrust brought another moan to her lips. Harder and faster, the monster was in full control, and off to the races. Her breathing quickened, she started grunting, moaning, she wanted his cum inside her. She wanted that release. She wanted to climax with him. Her ass started lifting off the bed, requiring deeper thrusts with more of his weight. He was in the depths of her, in that special place only he could get. The thrusts were coming so fast. She was growling now, a guttural sound. It was time.
No longer able to hold back any longer, he pushed her to the bed with his weight, shoving his cock as deep inside as he could and released his cum. It flowed and flowed and flowed. He collapsed on top of her, forcing her still, holding him inside her.
After a few moments of laying there, spent, he rolled to the side. She rolled as well, spooning up to him. His cock still hard, it slid right back inside her, filling her up, and keeping his cum in. She sighed blissfully, "thank you", she said. The first words spoken since he arrived. He said nothing, just pulled her tight and pushed his dick deeper inside her.
He would have to leave soon, but for now, for now he was home. The monster satisfied, it went to sleep. Awaiting the next time.

Lessons

The fountain made more noise than the rain. It was the rain he missed. He once thought that he wanted the beaches, and the sun. But he finds himself missing the misting rain of the Northwest the most. The soothing sounds of rain. The chill of fall turning the leaves color, the cold of winter bringing fresh air and snow.
Another life now it seemed. But, then,  maybe it really was. Sometimes, he felt as if his past lives were conflicting, bleeding over into his consciousness. It was so hard to determine reality anymore.
He blinked, how long had he been sitting here, he couldn't say. But it was long enough for the rain to stop. He should be leaving now. He sighed. Had it really come to this? Was this his only choice?
He looked around at this house, it wasn't much, practically falling down, but it held so much history. Could he really just walk away from it all? What did this mean? Did it have any effect on him?
So many questions. No answers. Some days he wondered if his life wasn't a tragedy, it definitely had all the earmarks.
If he left, where to go. He couldn't stay here, he had burned all his bridges long ago. No one cared anymore, live or die, it was just him now. A ghost. Easy to vanish this way. And boy did he just want to vanish right now.
If he went to the beach, the life of a beach bun awaited him. Living on a boat, drinking himself to death. Or he could go to the mountains. Find a cabin, get off the grid, become a farmer, subsidence living. Disappear entirely. If you're not on the internet, people nowadays would never be able to find him again.
The rain had stopped momentarily. It was his window, time to leave.

It was now or never.

Tremors

It was quiet in the still of the night. The moonlight filtered through the branches of the forest in soft patches. It was weird. You could see, but everything was shadowy, pale. Like a reflection of itself. Was anything real? This place, with its lack of sound, did it exist or was it another figment of his imagination?
The whiskers on his face were getting longer. He should probably consider cutting them or growing a beard. They needed trimming. He turned on the water in the sink. Clean shaven or bearded? He remembered hearing that the lumber Jack look was in. Women wanted a rugged man. The hot water steamed up the mirror. And wasn't it November anyway? Weren't you supposed to let it grow in November? What if you were a woman? He wondered if they could get away without shaving. Time to stop that line of thought, he was getting aroused.
He stared at the steering wheel. He was losing precious time sitting here. But he had to think for a minute. Was this what he really wanted to do? Once he pulled away, there was no turning back. Was it really that bad? She said she was sorry. But that wasn't something you did by accident. You have to plan that. It's not like you just slipped and boom. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He looked down at the seat. There was his pistol, the bag with the rags, rope, everything he needed. It was just a matter of will everyone listen to reason.

Lonely is death on a dirt road

Gasping for air, he rolled over. Or tried to roll over. His left side wasn't really working anymore. He was pretty sure he was going to lose his arm. Grinning wryly, he thought, "assuming he lived".  The devil was probably paying close attention to his plight. The devil had been waiting for this moment for a long time. But that devil was going to have wait a bit longer, as he mustered up his strength and sat up. That was half the battle right there. His left arm was starting to hurt, "that was good," he thought, "if I can feel it, then I can use it."  His right hand still worked. He had some strength left.
He had been betrayed, beaten, shot and left for dead. He had promised his soul to the devil years ago. All of his careful planning, his building of power, the wealth, none of it could save him now. The devil was coming to collect his due.
But not before he got his revenge. He always had a backup plan.
With his good hand, he fumbled around for his cellphone. He saw it laying just out of reach. If he moved to get it, he would bleed to death in seconds.
As he contemplated what to do, a ghostly hand lifted the phone and tossed it to him. "Well, it's officially a party, Death is here" he mockingly muttered. With a few swipes, and some texting later, the air strikes were safely on their way. As he lay waiting, watching the missiles fall towards him and his targets. He was still in the kill zone.
He just sank back and relaxed and waited on the devil.

Brick

The stones were rough on his skin. He was pass the point of stopping, of caring. Once, he would have cringed about the damage the heavy labor did to his hands. Once. That time was long past. Lots of things were long past.
The grooves and swirls of his skin were filled with stone dust, filling in the skin like the cement used to grout the wall. It wouldn't take long now.
He had been working a long time, building this wall high, reinforcing it, making it impenetrable. It had become his life long desire, a life free of entanglements, free of people. Free to follow the life he chose with no regards for the impact on others.
Once, he considered adding a door, a chance for to visit. A way for her to enter, a chance to see her again. Once. But then like his hands, labored and cracked, his heart was slowly turning to concrete. Maybe in the future, someone would find this walled off world, with his stone form and wondered what hurt would have caused all this destruction. Maybe. Maybes didn't carry much weight with him anymore. He was tired of guessing the outcome. The future always stared him in the face, regardless of what he pretended. He knew the end.
And thus no door. She was never coming anyway. And he placed another stone. The tears from his pain crept from his crusted eyes adding just enough moisture to solidify the fresh coat of dust on his face. Slowly he was turning. Another stone.
One day, soon enough, he would done. No one would ever see him again. The tears continued.

Old song but a good one

The Cars-Who's Gonna Drive You Home Tonight: http://youtu.be/6GJyP5WwOu0

Tears

His head hung low. Shame filled his heart. He knew he should speak, open his mouth, utter some sort of explanation. Knowledge was power, and he had none.
Lost in hurt, he didn't notice the tears. Each one slowly forming, rolling down her skin. He never wanted it to end this way. He never meant to hurt her.
He had tried, really tried. And failed. His heart belonged elsewhere. No matter what he told himself, he knew the truth deep down. He belonged with some one else and no amount of pretending would make it otherwise.
Maybe he should have thought this all out before, but he only realized it when he held another in his arms. The spark wasn't there, no laughter, no smile. No special way that she said his name. It wasn't the same, it never would have been. He would have always wanted more, never being satisfied.
He looked up, into her tear stained gaze. He opened his mouth, the words hung in his throat. It really wasn't her, she was great. But she wasn't what he wanted, what he needed. And so he hurt her now, to avoid breaking her heart later.
His mouth closed, the words unsaid. He broke her gaze, then stood up. Her sobbing became audible now, her hand reaching up to grasp his. He brushed it off. Without a word, without a sound, he walked away. A great cry pulled at him as he walked off, but he kept going.
It seemed like all he did nowadays was walk away from those who cared for him. "It seems I truly have the soul of a stranger. A man meant to be alone."

New music

A new band I stumbled upon

Hozier: NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert: http://youtu.be/oLgZo6Qi3Uo

Bad dreams

The visions filled me with dread. I woke, sacred, alone, confused. Reality or slumber no longer mattered, the fear was real.
I've worked so hard to get where I'm at. The life that I live. My external trappings, the way to measure my worth. Gone. And all I could do was helplessly watch. Retaliation would end in subjection. Prison.
The fear was palatable. I could taste it in my mouth. I could feel it's stench emanating from my skin. What could I do? Powerless. I've never felt so weak.
Not even when I left, not when I forced myself to turn my back. I've dealt with the repercussions. I live with nagging sense of emptiness. I know defeat. I know loss. I know pain. These are constant companions. But I fear little.
And yet here I am, one a.m. Nervous and afraid. I want someone to hold, but know I will never let anyone close. I still remember your laugh, the way you smiled. The smell of your skin, the wonderful feeling I got with you lying beside me in slumber.
Fear.
The unknown of losing control. The unknown.
I fear I've gone on too long, exposed more of myself than intended.
I fear it's already too late.

Lost ship

He stared at the table. If only the answers lay in front of him. Then maybe he would know the way.
The table stared back, mocking him. It had no answers to give. It stared as if it knew the answers but refused to give them up.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to end like this. This wasn't what he expected.
Life had thrown him curve ball after curve ball. He took what he had been given and made the best of bad situations. He had prospered, grown kind and generous. He had become an exemplary human being. But he was empty. Hollow. A shell of a man, grasping at straws to fill the emptiness inside. Nothing worked, nothing helped. He was nothing but a black hole.
So he fulfilled his lifelong dream. He bought a boat. He learned to sail it, and then he sailed away. If he was going to be empty inside, he might add well be alone doing it. No one else wanted his company.
Days turned into weeks, which turned into years. And here he found himself.
Lost. At sea. In the Pacific. In a boat that was sinking from storm damage. No radio, no power, nothing.
He looked at the table again, it still yielded no answers. He looked to his right. The loaded gun beckoned.
There was no helping it. He was going to die. One way or another. The question was simply how to go. And the table remained silent.
He wished he had someone to miss. He wished there was someone to say goodbye to.
But the emptiness inside allowed for nothing. His life was over.
Time to end it all.

Words are weapons

It's a seether song. The new one.

But this is the lyrics I keep hearing in my head.

"All I really want is something beautiful to say, something that lasts forever, something that fades."
Then I hear the song,
"Words are weapons, keep me guessing, keep me terrified"

I quite possibly am mad. Sanity is a destination I left long ago.

Jalapeno

Angry, hot, biting.
Salty, bitter, fire.
Our love affection is so sweet.
I love you and hate you, and repeat.
Your spice I require, your heat my downfall.
I'm addicted to it all.
I walk away, only to return.
My stomachs burns, but I yearn.
For your spicy heat, a taste so sweet.
I love you now, so spicy in my mouth,
But I'll hate your later, when it burns down south.

Death, slowly, meticulously

Just one shot to numb the pain.
The music on the jukebox blares, and all he wants to do is be left alone.
Another shot to kill the brain cells, not the intelligent ones, just the ones that feel.
Tonight he just wanted to be numb. No sadness, no longing, no wishing to be more, tonight he would be drunk and whole.
Just another puff and his lungs were full, another toke and his mind was clear. Life made sense like this. He could function, just take away the pain. A robot, monotonous in his actions, just going through the motions, day to day. No thought, no feelings.
The person beside him asked a question. He didn't realize there was someone there. Couldn't they just leave him alone, leave him be, all he wanted was peace. The peace that comes when there is nothing left to lose.
No, he didn't have a lighter. Perhaps it would be better if they found another place to sit. He just wanted to be alone.
Another shot to check on the first two, they seemed to be dallying in his throat with no hurry to reach his stomach.
He just wanted peace and quiet. The music blasted louder on the sound system. No one cared about him, he was just another distraction in their desire to have a good time. Another bump on their insignificant lives. His plight didn't matter, the sorrow in his heart didn't exist. He wasn't really there.
Without realizing it, he had accomplished his goal. He didn't exist. He was a ghost.
And the ease and silence of a ghost, he simply disappeared.

Clarity

And in a moment of clarity, I realized that time is merely repeated. Everything has happened before and we are just sitting through the memories. Is this real, did that happen? I woke and realized that this has happened before. I have been here before, a moment of clarity when I realized nothing mattered. That life continues with no Nevermind to us or our day to day struggle.
And then I questioned, if nothing matters, then what's the point? Why go on? Why do anything? Fate suggests that we are unable to control our destinies, but if this the case, does it matter if I do nothing? Wouldn't that be written into the fabric of time?
There has to be a point, otherwise it existence upon this is simply without meaning and the daily struggle with "was I good enough today" had absolutely no meaning.
But this is simply contradictory to our evolutionary progress as humans.
So the questions still remain.

And then I realize that this question is the epitome of man's quest. Why we search, why we wonder, the driving force behind all religions, all questions.

Ash

The music plays, notes enter my ears.
I hear nothing.
The sun shines, the blue skies crystal clear.
I see nothing.
The birds chirp, the squirrels play.
I am oblivious.
The food is plated, the smells heavenly.
I smell nothing.
The food enters my mouth, I taste ash.
I struggle to find the point, the reason.
I struggle to find anything, including my way.
All I taste is ash.

Monster

The face in the mirror, staring back at me, can't be me.
There's no way the monster inside looks so human.
The monster that I try to hide to hide, but grows stronger every day. I wonder if it'll escape every time my mouth opens.
The face looking back at me no longer resembles me. I've changed, grown quieter, stronger. I depend on no-one, I need nothing.
Can they see what's under lock and key? The beast I keep hidden. Something in me is flawed, I'm diseased, sick, rotting from the core. There is no cure, it's what I am. A monster.
If I let it loose, it would destroy all. Anything and everything, it knows no end, it feels no love.
I look at the man in the mirror. That's no longer me, but the shell I've become. The fake mask of pleasantry, the subtle veil of contentment.
No one knows what's inside, no one ever will. I force the monster deep down inside, it waits, it'll get its chance for destruction.
I force a smile, no one ever knows the demon within.
I will destroy everything you hold dear, best to flee and forget I ever existed.

Decisions

The rain was pouring down. Not the kind of rain one really wanted to go out in. It probably resembled a monsoon, but in these parts it was called a "heavy thunderstorm". No one wanted to be out in this sort of weather, yet there he was - standing in the deluge with no rain gear. He had been soaked to the bone long ago, yet he stood in it still.
The reason for this impromptu bath lay behind the door he stood in front of. The door he had been standing in front of for far too long. His hand was stretched out, but frozen between knocking and simply opening the door. He was torn, and couldn't make up his mind. So many possibilities lay before him, no matter which choice he made, the repercussions were many; none of which he felt he would be able to digest.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the motel sign at the entrance to the parking lot. Not a place he would have readily sought out, but at this point, he didn't feel as if he really had a choice. Looking at the window, he could just see into the room, the curtains being slightly parted. The reason he hesitated on knocking, entering the building, anything lay on the bed, curled into a ball. She was crying again. His decisions had hurt her. Again. He only wanted happiness, he only wanted to be loved. She gave him all that, but at what cost?
That is what froze him, the consequences. Repercussions.
She moved, sitting up. He could see the tears on her face. He could see her wrestling with the decision he knew she would have to make once she saw him. It had been building for years, reaching a sort of climax. Decisions. Life was so full of decisions. What would she do, what would she say? What was he going to do?
As if to prod him into motion, the rain came down even harder. He really hadn't thought that was possible. Yet, the sting of the rain belayed his per-conceived belief. He had a choice to make, yet couldn't make himself move. He ran through all the scenarios in his mind, there simply was no happy ending. No matter what he did, someone was going to be hurt. He was tired of hurting people. So tired. She stood and moved to the bathroom, at least that's what he assumed as he could no longer see her.
He looked up to see his hand floating in mid air. Halfway posed to knocking, halfway posed to fall back down to his side. He didn't remember raising his arm, his body wasn't fully under his control anymore it seemed. What to do? what to do? Knock and face the pain? So tired.

Lightning flashed again. She had cried more than she had ever thought was possible. She felt dry inside from all the tears. She stood and walked to the bathroom to wash her face. Why hadn't he come? Didn't he still love her? All these years, through all the struggle, he had always been by her side. Yet, where was he? She had taken such a big risk coming here. She was ready to throw the past away and leave with him. Her packed bags sat just inside the door were a testament to her resolve. But he was late. Really late. Beyond even what she anticipated with the storm. Where was he?
She turned to look at the door, lightning flashed again, briefly illuminating the parking lot outside. She saw the shape of a man outside the window. He was here! She smiled quickly, rushing to the door relieved, he had come after all. Breathlessly she threw open to door to nothing but rain. There was no one there, he hadn't come. Devastated, she slumped to the floor, being soaked by the downpour coming through the now open door. He wasn't there. She was alone. He wasn't coming.
Impossibly, the tears started flowing again. He had walked away. The thing she never thought he would do, the thing she never wanted. Alone. He was gone. Her only choice was back to the life she was trying to leave. Back to a normality she never wanted. She felt empty inside, dead. 

Crescendo

The music swelled,
Reaching it's focal point.
The lights flashed,
The crowd cries out.
It's the beginning of another song,
They sound the same all night long.
Another tune of broken hearts,
Another love that remains apart.
Everything done, everything said.
All that remains is left for dead.
Take me back to when time begin,
I will show you the bitter end.
Take me to a time beyond,
I will see you anon.
The music fades into deep cheers,
The sound of adoration, perhaps fear.
Time is frozen for one moment more,
Then everyone heads to the door.
The show is over, the people leave
Time is motionless, now take heed.
The music begins anew,
Life starts over for me and you.

Winds of change

The wind blows fierce,
Howling and hollering,
Taking your words from your mouth.
I see your lips move, but I can't hear what you say.
The wind blows strong,
Caressing and cajoling,
It blows the puddles into white-caps
Leaving you breathless and disturbed.
The wind blows intense,
Streaming and engulfing,
It cares not who you are, or what you do,
It cares only for this moment.
The wind blows relentlessly.
Screaming and insistent,
The winds of change wait for no man,
Will they leave you behind?

The bottom

Round and around and around it goes.
He swirled the liquor around the glass. He wanted to drink it. To slip into the oblivion it offered. Such a simple decision. Yet, around the glass the liquor swirled.
He never meant to be here. It was never supposed to be like this. He wanted something he could never have. But he reached for the moon anyway. To know that joy, to feel that kind of love, even for one night had been enough. Had. Past tense. This was the present.
Round and around and around it goes. Oblivion beckoned with the sweet embrace of forgetfulness. Not to feel, not to think. No love, no caring. Emotionless, cold, distant. These were the things he was becoming. Just a quick sip to slow the pain. One sip to descend into oblivion.
Round and around it goes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have a family, the job, a plan. Instead he had nothing. No certainties, no expectations. Life happened every second of every day. And he sat in the shadows, no longer caring to watch it pass by.
He wanted to be invisible. In some ways, he didn't really exist anymore. A ghost.
Around and around.
He knew you didn't define yourself based upon someone else. You didn't peg your happiness upon someone else. Only inside yourself can you find what was sought. But the only thing he saw inside was a gaping hole that he thought she would fill. He should have known better, his god-hole could never be filled, he would always want something more. Contentment was as much a dream now as love.
Round and around and around it goes. There's no saving him.
He looked at the glass. Oblivion beckoned. Giving in, he gave up.