Somewhere over the last couple of months, I lost myself. I don't know how it happened, or why. All I know is that at one point I was on cloud nine, and then somehow I wasn't.

I was sick.

I stopped writing. I stopped drawing. I stopped making music. I stopped being me and became a shell, detached and void, just going through the motions.

It happens, I guess, but the point of it is to overcome and find yourself. So that's what I'm doing. Slowly, steadily, and surely.

Wish you could see,
the happiness that now resides in me.

Wish you could be,
pouring out your emptiness into me,

Wish you could see,
that I see everything is now a part of me.

Wish you could be.

Wish you could be.

But everything is shallowness in spite of me.

Wish you could see,
that everything is all of us, why can't you be?

The emptiness that hollows us, why can't you see?

The happiness that's all in us, why can't you be?

Why can't you be?

Why can't you be?

Wish you could see...


----
Thinking about adding some music to this one, even though I'm not sure I am quite satisfied with how it turned out--a complex idea, put simply, but perhaps a bit too subtle. I dunno, my brain hurts. I'm not going to ramble anymore at this time. Gimme your thoughts...
-AiG

For no one, everyone, and the Mother.

Fervored dreams fall apart for missed connections,
thoughtful thinking turns from favors amoungst rejections,
Strangers enter and walk away with messages hidden,
Forgotten friends that failed at listening when words were spoken,
Bellows beyond the billion begotten friendships
sold short by subtracting potential additions.

Sleeved Heart.

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, so exposed--wounds at the slightest provocations.
My hurt would ache and burst, damage for damages' sake.
It bled to death and dried up.
I took it in my fists and crumbled it to dust to scatter in the winds
where the gusts carried it across the world and to everything within,
and my heart found new life in life and death.
Breathed anew, my love abounds in all things, and my heart is everywhere, but on my sleeve.
-Fin

So, I don't know how I feel about this one. I think it kind of gets the idea across, but I am unsure of whether to make it poetry or prose and I think the writing structure and flow suffers from my uncertainty. Either way, I'm posting it as is, and if I ever get around to editing it, then I will edit it.

What do you guys think of this one, any suggestions for me?

-AiG

The Room

There was a stillness in the room. It was the same kind of stillness noticed when a pin is dropped and echoing too loudly; or the same kind of stillness when a gentle breeze feels like a tornado.

Everyone was staring at the man with the red mustache even though they did not want to. His screams were vibrations attracting the eyes, his movements flickers of threats. No one could take their eyes off him, even though he kept shouting for everyone to look away.

It was the gun in his hand that made them all nervous, the fact that he was clearly not right shouting obscenities and waving.

"Don't look at me! Stop it! STOP. Close your fucking eyes."

A woman, in a green dress, cowering in the corner thought he must have been on drugs the way he was trembling so. The clerk behind the counter thought he might inch closer and be a hero, up until the gun was pointed at him and then he stopped cold in his tracks.

The room was so still. Everyone was frozen in their places, unable to look away as the red headed man, who was clearly not well, demanded their attention while cursing them for giving it to them.

The room was so still. No one knew who was going to die first, up until the shots rang out.

The room was so still. The first officer on the scene used his best judgement and fired two shots at the man the moment he had a clear shot. The first bullet struck the man high up in his right thigh. The second pierced his abdomen and lodged itself in his spine.

The red haired man's blood stained the tile floor. When the paramedics arrived they pronounced him dead and everyone was relieved it hadn't been them.

A young boy that had watched the whole thing cried and wished he could have helped. To his five year old eyes the poor man had clearly not been well.

Angels and Demons

Maddison was only fifteen when she lost her virginity to Tommy Porter. Tommy Porter swore his innocence even up until they found him in his cell with seven inches of plastic jutting from his neck. Maddison carried the guilt of his deed with her for the rest of her life. She carried his child too.

She even tried to love the boy, but as he grew older he looked more and more like Tommy and the monster she remembered in her nightmares. Eventually she grew detached and started shooting smack to keep her mind away.

The boy grew up and enlisted in the army where he received a congressional Medal of Honor. He never told his mother.

I used to be detached. I would sit in my room thinking that it should have been me to slide that shiv beneath Tommy Porter's chin. I felt robbed and disgusted at the atrocities mankind was capable of committing against one another. I thought I empathized with Maddison, but in truth, I felt nothing. Only hatred.

It's amazing what sociopaths do to fake it in this world.

Purging Poison

Handed poison I took it in,
I drank the poison deep within,
Let it sink and let it fester,
lost my sight for love much faster,
forgotten, food, that I was after.

I Shed my blood for poison's sake,
convinced that I was drowning in its crimson, poisoned wake.
Lost myself and felt alone,
refused the signs that were my own...

Failed to weep and failed to sleep,
Failed a promise I had yet to keep...
I cursed my poison and sealed it in,
Blinded eyes to my death within,

Let the poison fill me down.
Until my saving blood could then be found,
with humble tears and humilities,
only option to sink to my knees,
and lift my head.

Say a prayer for poison and all that's dead.

Well the poison's purged,
I have been redeemed,
turns out easier
then it ever seemed,

Well the poison's purged,
my blood's been shied,
my hands are open,
my tears have dried.

Well the poison's purged
and sent on it's way,
the world keeps turning,
into a more beautiful day.