The Tool.

Welllllll I guess I'm some sort of

Tool

Some kind of commodity

To be

Used and

Then put aside

I'mmmmm

Not sure what my

Exact purpose

Is

But it seems like I'm mighty

Good at it

Since I get used so much

I don't mind it, really

I'm glad that I can

Help

But oh how I

Wish

I could be used for

More than just

One

Single

Thing

Even though that use is

Multi-purpose

I wish I was

Something

That you always kept by your

Side

That you couldn't live

Without

Some

Thing, some

Object

That you brought with you

Everywhere you went

I'm not content with my

Place

But I'm happy I can

Help

Because in life

If you can't

Help

Then all you ever really

Do

Is hinder.

Tossing And Turning And Tossing And Turning And Tossing.

I'm not always in

Control

Of what I

Feel

Sometimes, I know, I don't feel

What I'm supposed to

Or I feel something

I know I shouldn't

And other

Times

I think I feel

More

Than I actually do

But I've learned how to

Cheat the system

Someone called me 'complex' the other day, when I explained this to them, and I suppose it's true, to some extent. Because I'm aware of my tendency to feel false emotions, or at least, to exaggerate my emotions, I've learned to key in on certain impulses and behaviors of mine that are generally beyond my control. I've learned to watch for changes in those areas.

And when I notice those changes in myself, I know that I'm feeling something genuine.

And those things

Those

Uncontrollables

Those

Impulses and

Behaviors

Have been changing as of late

I've been

Withholding

In areas that normally I

Wouldn't

And I've been

Resisting some of my

Basest urges

My

Automatic responses

I've been

Controlling them

Because in some part of my emotional

Or mental

Core

I know that these things will not

Help me

That they would only

Prevent me from attaining what it is I truly

Want

However unlikely it may

Be that I will attain it

So I sit and I

Ponder

Worry

Contemplate

And know there is nothing I can truly

Do

For my house is my

Prison

And my visits are

Limited

And until I can formulate a

Plan

To break from this place

To

Rejoin

Society

And become my own person once again

I am at a

Stalemate

My only

Hope

And my only

Wish

Is that

When I do finally

Free myself

From this

Prison this

Hole this

Unyielding, all-encompassing

Maw

I will be able to

Continue down the

Path

That I am trying to

Set before me

Because

Even if

Things do not go as

Planned

And even if

Things are never the

Same

I know that there is

Something there

I know that there is an

Experience

To be had

And it is an

Experience

That I

Crave.

Waiting For Whenever.

Falllllllllllllling back

into that

Same

Old

Swing

No matter how much things change

Things are always the same

It's just another

Light at the end of that

Tunnel

Sloooooowly flickering

Out

I'm just

Wandering these

Streets

In search of

Nothing these days

There's no point to it

No real

Purpose

In anything I do

And yet I look at

You

And I see your

Eyes

And I wonder at what

Could have been

But what will most likely never be

I'm no fool but I'm on a

Fool's errand

I'm no loser but I'm

Fighting a

Losing battle

I'm no hero but I wish

I could be yours

Sometimes you have to

Turn your back

But I can't seem to

Do it

This time

And so I stand here

Watching and

Waiting and

Hoping for something

To bloom anew

Hoping for some sort of

Divine inspiration

On your part

Or on mine

But I know the truth.

There is no

God

The house that He built

Is nothing but a deck of

Cards

And every step I

Take

Might just be the one

To make it

Fall.

I Take You Where You Want To Go, I Tell You All You Need To Know.

Black.

Hollow.

Cold.

I am black, I am hollow, and I am cold. There's nothing left for me here.

But there's a light...

There's this beacon of hope, this

Person

Who I just can't

Shake

From

My thoughts.

This

Person who

Is so

Beautiful and

Wonderful and

Everything I could ever hope

To want.

And I do want her. I crave her.

I long for her touch,

Her smell,

Her kiss.

My heart is swelling with this new found

Hope

With this idea that maybe, finally

I've found someone that I can

Match with

Freckles in our eyes are mirrored images

And if we ever kiss I know they'll align perfectly.

Every time I

See you

I shiver and can't help

But to smile

I linger longer than I should

Take

Chances

That could end in ruin for me

Just to spend a minute longer

Talking to you

Seeing you

I ache to spend ever longer with you because, while my life here is a mess, in complete and utter tatters, every minute I spend with you is so wonderful and bright that it almost makes me forget how horrible my reality is.

I don't know that I believe in

Fate

But it's hard to ignore the extraordinary

Circumstances

That were required for us to

Meet

The

Timing of it is just

A

Little

Strange

Maybe it is all connected. Maybe WE are all connected. And maybe everything I've done and suffered through the past four years were just a test, some sort of

Gauntlet

I had to run in order to make it to the

Prize.

And if you are my prize (and oh how I hope you will be)

It was worth every second.

If I Were Her I'd Paint My Body Until All My Skin Was Gone.

My empire of dirt.

Even the dirt has fallen to pieces. There's really nothing left.

I woke up in New York City.

Oh, how I wish I could

Stay

How I wish I could

Be in that

Place

In any place

Away from here

Away from you and your

Poisonous control

These

Noxious fumes

Permeate every inch of my

Body, my

Soul [if such a fickle thing were to exist in the first place]

And every day I spend

Breathing

It

In

Drags me

Down

A little

Deeper

But I'm too far gone

Now

Too far away from that

Crystalline

Fresh air

I can't even

See it

Beneath this smog of

Deceit and

Control

I couldn't step out the front door. Bound and tied to a post, like a dog, like an animal whose only worth is to protect the young.

I am that dog. I have always been that dog. It is who I am.

But lord, how I don't want to be YOUR dog.

The Lyre Of Orpheus.

Is this really what we've come to?

This

Stagnancy, this

Unending

Unyielding boredom?

I feel as cyclic as

The days

On and on and on and on

And on

A never ending

Pattern, some sort of

Loop that I can't quite seem to

Break

Repetitive

Redundant

And yet

All encompassing and all

Engrossing

I want

Out

But don't know where to

Start

It's not about a

Key

Anymore

It's not about

Baubles or

Precious things

Or loving

Or loathing

Or even

Dignity

It's just about

Change

It shouldn't be so

Hard

I'm not some sort of

Steel-based

Lithium-ion encased

Microprocessor

Only capable

Of so many functions,

Of so

Many

Actions

I'm a human

Or at least

The closest

Approximation

To human

That I can manage

Something in me has died. Some sort of spark or drive. Its completely gone.

You will never have another hero.

You will never have another chance.

You will never have anything.

You will never deserve

Anything.

Because every moment

Of every day

You do nothing.

Because you are weak and

Frail and

Incompetent and

So many other things and

No matter how hard you try to keep up this

Facade of confidence and

Purpose and

Importance

You know

Deep down that

The end isn't near. The end has already happened. My end has already happened. Swirling, unending chaos is all I know, and not in the way I prefer. Dead inside and nowhere to go, nothing to do. It came not with a bang, nor even a whisper. It was completely

Silent

Subtle

Deadly.

And then one day I simply realized that I'm already dead. And I cannot be resurrected. No one is here to mourn me; no one is even here to bury me.

Simply dead and

Decaying

In the corner, my insides

Rotting away

Like so much fruit, left and forgotten in a

Bowl on the table.

Anger seems to be all I have left. Anger I can muster. Towards everyone outside, towards all parts of myself inside.

Anger is purifying.

But you can't purify that which has already rotted away.

Just like that itch you can

Never

Quite

Reach

Mine is a soul that will never be saved. A torn sail never to be repaired, listless and aimless, lost at sea. Slowly rotting away, planks giving way under their own inability to stay whole. Water slowly seeping in through the cracks and the creaks, with no one there to plug it up again. No one to stop this listless, aimless ship from sinking into the ocean.

And oh how I hate the sea.

River To Madrid.

That

Chasm

It's always there

Teasing me

Luuuuuuring

Me

To look over that edge.

To maybe

Take

That

Step

Over

Into the abyss.

I'm not a lick stronger today than I've ever been. Probably weaker, to be honest.

Everyone I know goes away.

But not in the end.

Just periodically.

From time

to

Time.

My head is buzzing in a way it hasn't in quite some time. Up until now I've been able to keep this all under wraps.

But then I found those baubles.

Those

Fancy things

That I once cherished, and held oh so very dear.

And they fill me with regret.

And loathing.

Loathing for myself. For the world. But especially for circumstance.

I'll never meet anyone like any of you, ever again.

Each one of you, you very, very special few, have stung my heart in a way, and affected me in a way, that has never, and will never

Be repeated.

It just makes me sad that we always grow apart. Every. Single. Time.

I can't stop

Paging through this thing

This booklet

Full of memories

Full of my regrets

I turn the pages

Over and

Over and

Over, every time hoping

For some sort of

Revelation

Some kind of

Thought

That will change everything.

But as I thumb these pages

As I turn them over

And over

And over again

As I take in the sweet scent of years gone by

All I find

Is sadness

And fear

This booklet

It is me, in a way

It is every

Important thing

That has happened

A chronicle of

Past events

Past regrets

Past hope and past promises

But everything

On those

Pages

Fills me with a despair

That I

Just

Can't

Shake.