Alone is All I am

Bury me
Make believe
Churn this pretend
I can see
I can blend
But I cannot amend
The sins inside
Tears I’ve cried
It’s just gotta be
When living isn’t living
It’s just misery

The past tied to me
Hooks deep in my flesh
It scrapes and it burns
Until nothing is left
Until all you see
Is what’s left of a smile
Coated deep, broken still
The taste of denial

These pains eat me
Strip me down to the bone
Whipping me, breaking me
Until I’m alone
These words won’t matter
They’re caught in the air
Without an ear, just a fear
As my heart begins to tear

If there was something, anything
To bring me alive
I’d crack an eye but remain
Dead inside
This sickness inside
Rots me to the core
I’d tell you the rest but
Can’t take anymore

I can take your hand
With a smile of denial
I can taste the air
The pain and flood of despair
I can take the step
Until there is nothing left
In the end I’m alone
Alone is all that I am


Nothing Left

The taste of loss on my tongue
Like a silhouette of me
At least what I used to be
The poison inside is spreading
I’m spending time regretting
Tears spill across the ground
I’m a shell of what I use to be

It’s a step too many
A word too few
You can look into my eyes
Yet there’s nothing left to do
You can reach into my heart
You can read my scars
It doesn’t change the fact
We are who we are

The dark reaches out in me
There is nothing left for me

My skin is bare and cold
My eyes are fixed and frail
Ten shaking fingers with
Many broken nails
I reach inside for hope
I come out with a string
With every empty promise
It creates another sting

And I’m still breathing
Far beyond believing

Every breath is short
Every sight is fast
The visions in my mind
Are fixated on the past
As you taste my sorrow
That lasts until tomorrow
Will you be there standing
Or will you walk away

The ground is feeling light
These thoughts are of the night
I need a hand to see
As the darkness impairs
I fall beyond despair
You hold on while I break

What’s left of me
What’s meant to be
This puppet that I only see
The memory, it’s taunting me
The hate inside corrupting me
I taste the pain, flood with despair
A soul that breaks beyond repair

Watch me as I break
Watch me and just let me go

Drawing Lines in the Sand

First off the title, Drawing Lines in the Sand, it’s about life. Choosing what you do and don’t deal with and how much you really invest yourself into living.

The lies we tell ourselves, the things we do to throw a curtain over the things that are really going on inside. It makes you wonder about the term “weakness”. Sure, it can be applied to a million different things, but it all comes down to one philosophy: we are only as strong as the amount of pain we allow ourselves to face.

When does “coping” become “running away”? Who says there can be one predetermined method of dealing with loss? Sometimes a loss can strike a blow deep enough to the heart that a person becomes a shell of what they once were.

Does this make them weak? Or does this make them human for feeling?

How can another person judge the loss another is facing? The people who pay the therapists to talk, and no there is absolutely nothing wrong with talking to a professional, but the wrong part of it comes when they start to “tell” you how to feel as opposed to giving you suggestions toward things that can potentially distract the mind.

Crying is like a mixed review; some people view it like it’s pathetic, when in fact it’s the exact opposite. Crying could very well be a symbol to the word passion, ever notice how these same people that critique showing pain are the very ones that are miserable?

I couldn’t tell you where I am going with this. A lot of self-analysis, some consideration towards what others face, and a cold acceptance toward the fact that I don’t think I can overcome that dark gloomy feeling that just kind of shows up when it wants to.

In many ways I prefer being a loner but very much owning the full feeling toward the things I am loyal toward. It beats the alternative of being someone that tries to fill a void with something that simply doesn’t belong.

It’s odd how people second-guess themselves the amount they do. I say it’s odd not due to there being a possibility of doubt, but because the origin of where this second-guessing comes from is rarely one’s own conscience. It’s often times because someone finds a way to knock our mental walls down and create the doubt when it was never there to begin with.

There is a constant reference toward the pride of being an individual, you always see those little things and commercials celebrating how wonderful it is to be your own person, the problem is in these commercials there is often a group all doing the same thing. It’s unrealistic. No, people are not going to gather together do cartwheels and agree on every point of life. That’s not how being an individual works.

The very theme of being an “individual” has been modernized and pissed on. There is no other way to put it. You can’t one moment encourage people to be themselves and then the next moment punish them for this or that or label something from a society standpoint to be “wrong”.

Being an individual comes with the idea that certain things just are and rather then fault someone for something instead you accept it as a part of their being.

The world today supports only one theme: conversion; to follow a set standard and to not stray far from it. If this wasn’t the case there wouldn’t be so many things set as “expectations.”

The many levels of authority dictate what is right and what is wrong. As a matter of fact it has so many people on edge it explains why jobs at most places are so tense and almost impossible to enjoy for everything they could be.

Speaking of authority, I hate it, and not for the juvenile reason of “I don’t like someone telling me what to do!” Nope. Has nothing to do with that. Granted, I don’t like being told what to do, but that is simply a part of life.

My issue with authority is the amount that it’s abused. When someone leads with respect it creates loyalty, when someone leads with ignorance it creates hatred. When you deal with enough authority figures that do it the wrong way it leads to a permanent flaw of expecting authority figures to suck.

So, in a way this is a rant, in a way it’s perception, but ultimately it’s about respect. Respecting yourself, respecting others, people really have forgotten how to do it. People are afraid to speak up for themselves in fear of the disciplinary actions that may follow, this leads to negativity and tension, and then from there it simply spirals out of control.

If you are having questions about how you are living it’s a pretty obvious fact to conclude that you may be avoiding something. Fear can own you or it can simply have a place in your life. Choose the latter, sure, hardships are inevitable, but how you handle them is entirely up to you.

Final Step

Who’d have known
As I look to the sky
An empty canvas of a soul
Cause there’s nothing to hide
The puncture is deep
The pain is spreading in my sleep
It’s one breath too many
As I’m tasting defeat

With a shadow in my hand
A puppet for a heart
It’s no surprise I’m owned
Overtaken and alone
I’d pretend and smile
But it’s too late for me

Shedding tears and telling stories
Knowing inside
There’s not much for me
A grasp for breath, I try to inhale
While clenching a heart that’s been impaled

I keep on reaching for the past
As the moment skids by way too fast
A moment gone to the blink of an eye
A heart on stand still, waiting to die

The pain contained inside my lips
Spreads throughout my fingertips
It tries to numb and take away
But it’s too late for saving

When waiting for nothing
There has to be something
A halt to this decay
The words are a fuse
Absent of a muse
That bleed into the day

A picture that folds
That’s creased over time
Lays forgotten but still there
As this cancer inside
Eats me alive
Im laced with my despair

Hanging on means seeing the end
Letting go gives into pretend
A broken man caught in between
With a heart that breaks seam by seam

As it breaks I’ll grin as well
With one last step into hell