The past; a conflict
We always have to look back
To find tomorrow

In introspect,
hindsights stumbling over intuition.
Guts hard as a rock.
Minds eye coupling with superstition.
Feeling lost, without a paddle, up the stream facing tomorrow.
Trading calls, seizing, coughing out a scream. Laced with a sorrow.
Silence escapes the harrowed moment.
a siren: opaque.
Privately shamed, a borrowed atonement and a giant mistake.

(twist my neck around
180 degrees to the past)

they're back again
the doctor calls them
"dark thoughts"
i just call them hell

it probably didn't
help that i stopped
taking my medication
but i was feeling better

and i often forget
about my pills and
what i'm saying in
the middle of a sentence

and i often can't sleep
or something i don't even
know anymore i just know
if it's sleep it's disturbed

(i love my job but i would
love it more if i didn't
completely disassociate myself
from reality while i'm there)

"having two managers
with chronic illness was
probably not the best idea
i'm glad we've got you around."

i smiled at her and
choked a little on
what's always in
the back of my mind

why i didn't come in for
months last fall and what
haunts me when i turn
off the lights lock the
doors and sit in the dark
by the front window
watching condensation
run down the glass

(last night i dreamed
i had a panic attack and
they found me in the
back by the potato chips
and i had to explain that
what i was really afraid of
was the fact there was a
church next door)*

i know i've changed
but i just don't know
how i could have
changed so much so fast

it all seems like a blurred
dream in my past
of computer screens and
carpeting and cold
winter mornings drenched
in vanilla and scarves

and if it weren't for the
fact it shattered me
i would miss it in the way you
miss a rose-tinted window
that was always cold as ice and
cracked clear down the middle

so i twist my neck around
180 degrees to the past
from 110 to -19 but that
leaves 51 unexplored degrees

of summer and cold concrete
of winter and colder concrete
of who i was and who i wasn't
of who i am and who i will never be

i twist my neck around
180 degrees to the past
before i realize that
something's gone askew

i called it love but hindsight
calls it something else.

I'm trying to "help the community,"
Trying to make a "healthy impact,"
I have a goal in mind, set,
It's all laid out ahead, before we've met.
I am forever "blessed,"
I can lose my moral traits when convenient.
I have all of the "virtues I was given,"
Most always fail me. My hindsight vision, "20/20 perfect,"
I've got a "healthy" set of norms and a
Pair of able legs, I am in the right
When I stumble and I'm not wrong
When I am told otherwise,
I've gotten somewhere at being in control,
Now I let strangers into my home and
Set up a world in which they're rights can be
Defined based upon my living. It's my decision.
If it's tolerable, I decide.  How soon you have to
Be finished and even how you're to be judged.
I am judge jury and executioner. I can make it
A "grand" money-making excursion. My family
As a group of strangers who "care," I never distrust.
Always and ever at my side but in the background,
We will see to it that this is somehow legal,
So long as no actual authority are around,
*There's no one who can stop me now!

And like that, the sound of fireworks plunged into the sky.
We were adults left pretending as kids.
Watching the fireworks highlight the essence of each others face.
Each explosion substituted the throb of patient hearts

The jitter of anticipation now immanent
Highlighting our face a different array of colors.
Subtle, the light flashed against our face, a blossoming rose bud flourishing
in bright flash.
Each smile distinguished in the aroma of our heart displayed in the sky.
Soon disappearing into shadow of the night.
And we, forever etched in a memory.
In hindsight, our hearts had a blast.
Reaching up high then falling back to the ground

I have no friends,
and all of the ones that I do have
don't like me very much.
Maybe it's because I go around telling all of my friends that I have no friends,
which is probably a **** move.

I don't miss half full coffee cups.
Everyday you wouldn't finish, and just leave it there.
5 maybe 6,
but it got to the point I'd walk right by them and stare.

I don't miss being forced to ignore my loved ones.
I have to admit your family is really fun,
but I shouldn't have to ignore my family because yours can't let go of someone.

I don't miss petty arguments,
you never doing the dishes,
letting you down feeling like punishment,
or our future being built on wishes.

but

There are a few things I do miss.


The feeling of a home, coffee on the couch on our days off.
Stupid jokes that didn't make me feel alone, and the memory of forgetting love's cost.

I miss waking up from nightmares feeling your hand on my back,
all the love I had that is for sure.
But what I miss most is something you now lack,
what I miss most is the person I thought you were.

Darkness calms me.
Knows me.
Quiet, alone.

Daylight is a mask.
An illusion.
I try to be bright
but I'm ******* burning
on the inside.
Craving the shadows,
yearning for silence.

My mind screams;
voices remain still.
Loving the pain.
Dreaming about my solitude-
alone