The light shoots out of the bulb,
like fire from a cannon into my skull,
I roll over in agony, defeated,
I cover my face with your pillow,
it smells like you.
"Oh, baby," the kid voice comes out,
I feel a warm body jump onto me,
press me with your light weight.
The soft, wet kisses find my neck,
and I love you then.
Soon I fall back into a dream;
my mind moved on,
the smile stayed;
that ship sailed.
A warm haze is stuck in behind my eyes,
my body begs for sleep that won't be granted.
There are words trying to escape,
and they must be watched at all times,
carefully.
Imagine what they would do,
if I wasn't around to watch them,
organize themselves on the pages?
What secrets would be revealed,
and what mysteries would they tell?
Oh,
how the skeletons would dance,
for all of us,
despite our consciously spun life stories,
where we never feel responsible for the evil.
It's not something that comes with age. It's not something that is relative to maturity. Being genuine is a moral thing.
That being said, there is a certain amount of responsibility in the way you live your life, whether you like it or not. Every decision has a consequence, and no decision you make can be blamed on anyone else.
People have a way of avoiding responsibility, and in doing so, making excuses for their lack of genuineness. "I didn't tell you about ___, because _______." "I didn't ask you to _____, because so-and-so said______." "It;s not my fault, it's your fault, because ______."
Stop it.
You are granted almost complete freedom in your life, you need to learn how to be responsible for that freedom. Sure, living in a society restrains certain freedoms. If you don't like the social constraints, leave your society. Back to reality:
You are free, therefore you must accept the responsibility of your life. Lying was not brought on by someone else. You chose to lie, you deal with the consequences. You choose to cheat on your partner, you wear the guilt of it. If you choose to hurt a loved one, You must carry the weight of that betrayal.
I've encountered many forms of this in the past month or so specifically. This has mainly been in cross-gender friendships I'm involved in, which should not come as a surprise, considering they can often be complex situations.
It can be as simple as a clever lie to parry a curious question I asked (which, evidently, was not so clever). It can be as big as inventing a reason to not hang out. It can be as complicated as mixing fact and fiction to describe a disagreeable recent-past event as "for the best," when in reality, that's not the way the person was truly feeling.
All of these are lies, and there is a serious problem when it comes to misdirection and dishonesty in our day-to-day interactions. Lies compound themselves, and begin breeding more lies. Lies also grow from small, controllable fact-fiction hybrids, into untamed beasts of deceit.
"So what's is your point, Andy?" Well, it's simple: We need to start treating one another better, and living our lives in a more honest and responsible way. We need to practice being open with our communication, and realizing the consequences that our actions have on the people around us.
I understand the counter-arguments. "Not everyone is going to do this." So what? It's better to live your life in a moral, and respectable manner, and your influence may spread beyond yourself and encourage this healthy way of living amongst your friends and family. "If I'm always honest, and the other person isn't, I'll just get hurt." If you're dealing with a snake like that, you're going to get hurt anyways. There's no reason to act like an abusive idiot, just because someone has abused you.
In conclusion, I hope to see more people behaving responsible. If you make a mistake, confess it to the people who are affected. Make amends with them. Error is a human trait, as is forgiveness. Practice both, and we'll all be happier for it.
Sad, sad monster,
keep your head down,
turn back inside of,
yourself.
Sad, sad monster,
keep your voice down,
don't rise up too loud,
again.
You must hide,
and remain hidden,
they don't understand.
There's a big shock coming,
or a dosage of dull candies,
to make you right as rain,
It will destroy all that pain,
and make you normal again.
Trust in me,
my dear monster,
there's a flood coming,
it's pouring through the ceilings,
of all the skyscrapers,
penetrated by broken shards,
of dreams,
that tear apart,
the roof of your mouth,
and scrape your retinas,
grind your scalp,
gut your brain.
Only left,
numb.
I carried the basket full of dirty clothing out of my room. It was a short walk made slightly longer by the weight of a weeks’ worth of laundry. I was happy when I realized half of the laundry had not been worn by me.
Darks first, in cold/cold with a short spin cycle. I made my way upstairs to write statements for a client. I indulge myself by eating four miniature chocolate bars, which had probably been created to give people the illusion they can satisfy a sweet-tooth by eating only a few smaller portions. People are never satisfied.
The orange, plastic cup of cola was sweating on the table. Beads of moisture formed on the outside, creating a substance with more nutritional value than the dark, sweet liquid inside. The chocolate and cola combined to give a sugar high that would drop me in about five minutes tops.
It was time to write, or time for nothing. If you figure all the nothing eventually amount to something, you’ll be disappointed on Judgement Day. You’ll be pleasantly surprised, however, when the Tax-man comes.
It isn’t up to God or taxes to explain the significance of a human life. Life is used up when time runs out, no matter how you spend it.
There was sex, sleep, conversation, and art. There was no love. We did not even love one another improperly.
The art was tired, and made in the spirit of fun. Art is only art when it is expressing an emotion. We expressed our humourous side, with a slice of our inner happiness.Happiness took its foot of the gas occasionally, and the remnants of past glittered with pain in the pupils of our eyes.
The sex was never tired, even when we were. The conversation never struggled, but never went much below the surface. Sleep didn't matter.
We existed this way for months, in between relationships, ex-lovers, and competing friendships. One day it broke, and we may have spoken a total of three sentences each since.
Even broken friendships are worth remembering. Some things that glitter lose their appeal too soon.There is an abyss of lost friendship, and conversations that should have happened.
Sometimes we dance on the edge of both love and friendship. Sometimes we are too broken to dance.
I sat at the bottom of the shower,
hot, cleansing water poured on me,
rivers were made through my leg hair,
meandering down my sky-bent knees;
the water dripped off of my nose,
my eye-lashes,
my memories.
Some decisions are too hard,
and must be made for you.
Something broken,
nothing fixed,
there's a tear,
in everything.
Stagnant air lingers,
suffocating your mind;
you beg for something new.
The trap is sprung;
you are now the working dead;
deceased thoughts from a corpse,
are all that remain.
I used to walk,
calmly,
on wires,
formed of the sharpest,
and strongest toxic metals;
brilliant.
I used to charge,
unprovoked,
through walls,
made of powdery,
bone-dry concrete;
unstoppable.
I used to stumble,
drunkenly,
through life,
weaved from broken,
and shattered dreams;
failing.
I used to be somebody,
you’d remember,
when the chips were down;
the house never wins anymore.
Andy Veilleux 