Feeling like a giant gift.
The bows and ribbons tied.
But when you open up the gift,
There's not a thing inside.  ¶ 11:37 PM 0 comments

  My sense of self abolished. Replaced with version 2.0 . My hope of all I’d like to be has ended with the show. Don’t worry. I wasn’t offended. I’ve wondered if you were a figment of my imagination too. To good and sometimes way to bad to ever really be true. And there’s no way you could know that I’d made up my mind a long time ago, that you would stay on the shelf. In that shoe box on the left side of the only thing I had left. My sense of foolish pride and warped sense of decency replaced by lingering doubt and a healthy dose of apathy. Then I didn’t realize all that I would learn in the steady flame of the refiners’ fire praying to be burned. I have no want of a two car garage and a three bedroom life. I have no want to see the card tower fall. I had no reason to want to leave. Not a single one at all. I just knew that everything I wanted was in the third door on the right, at the end of the hall. But either the roof was too low or I was too tall. So, I am here. Somehow, I have chosen to reappear. Just like you into my life and mine in to yours. With your hand of aces verses my hand of fours. The confines of our silly little room making it hard for me to breathe. The blanket, pulled up to my chin. The bed made of simple pleasures mistaken for greed, and the feel of your burning hot skin. The sweat lodge of my mind, burning little pinholes in my ideals as I pull down the curtain protecting my fears and gaze into what it reveals. A desire. A child like hope. An idea unfettered with the worlds painful disbelief. And a dream at the end of its rope. My paint brush flickering across a canvas in the lowest places of my core. A myriad of colors, all waiting to be picked, hidden behind the door… the door. The door on the right at the end of the hall. The one that stands for all my ideals of love and everything I learned as a child that held me from my truest potential. The dos and do nots. The idea that events are random instead of sequential. It all means something. This I am sure of. The timing is right but somehow seems crude. The hope of more, to which I allude, is teaching me volumes about my being subdued by a world that can’t get the shit off its shoes. As we’re marching along, not one by one, but always in pairs of twos. I’m walking down the hall now. Past the first door on my right. It’s dark and I’m scared so I’m turning on the light. My hand is on the knob. The key has been turned. I’m letting go of everything I’ve learned. I’ve drawn back the curtain. I’ve looked at what’s there. I’m choosing not to tell you, because that doesn’t quite seem fair. So, if you want to know, then ask me. I’m where I started before. At the end of the hall, the last one the right, hidden behind the door.  ¶ 11:10 PM 0 comments