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The rat, smaller than events to come, leapt from ledge to doorstep. Pale street lamps were the only visible lights to set the mood. A door swung wide open and the small animal scurried behind a bucket. Its putrid color was an ironic hint at what was soon to come. A fine dressed man, suit and two tone tie, bounced out in a hurry knocking the bucket off from the doorstep. The man stopped to straighten his tie and watched as the bucket cartwheeled into the street. The rat dashed madly past the buckets new resting place and off into the dark. “We’re both out of our god damned minds if we think this date will go better than the last.” He said placidly. Taking the rat’s lead, he was off into the street with only the twitching lights to set his path, as if they winced at what was soon to come.

There were crystal glasses filled with water, towering, begging to be spilled while people danced their conversation hands, weaving in between and around their tall opaque bodies. Keeping cool and calm while the world buzzes and lies all around makes for a difficult evening. But alas, what is an evening without effort? The dull red and gray two tone tie speaks for the finely dressed man. He sits quietly and alone and watches as a waiter shimmy’s through an obstacle course of blondes, brunettes and redheads not wanting to disturb the gossiping or conversation that was being held amongst mirrors and gloss. Reaching the man’s table the waiter offers his name, drew, and a menu of drinks and specials. “The minestrone has exceptional reviews sir, if you would like to go for the daily soup and salad special as usual.” The waiter gleamed. The Man, still placid, replied “I’m actually waiting for a friend, could you bring a second glass of water?” With the nod of his head the waiter was shimmying back into the crowd of alcohol stained breath.

A solemn mood embraced the man and he found himself setting time limits for his already thirty minute late date. If she didn’t arrive within the next ten minutes he would skip dinner altogether and go straight to bed. This was a decision rather than a debate. He knew what was to come yet he was still keen on the wait. Minutes passed like sand slipping through an hour glass and he was gone. After a generous tip for two glasses of untouched water to an eagerly agile waiter, the man left. He began a steadily paced walk home, only five unappealing blocks away, but a walk he knew nonetheless. A walk he enjoyed only after the sun began to drag color from the world. Dusk would lay a fine glow over everything placing a turn on the neighborhood giving it a brand new name each hour, for it never looked the same.

A developed steady pace could still be interrupted by every trying corner rounded along the man’s secret path home. Through missing shrubbery and unlocked gates he kept his silence. In the slowly cascading light he found his eyes adjusting upon a silhouette in the distance. Weird, he had never seen a soul along his many walks home. He supposed that maybe it was a lot earlier than he thought, earlier than his usual late night business. He approached the woman who was sitting cross legged in the dirt but she made no movement. He quickened the pace. As the man reached the woman she was staring down into opened but empty hands. “Ma’am?, excuse me may I ask as to why you would be sitting out this late, in the dirt above it all..” he spouted then caught his excitement and shifted back into his calm airy self. She glanced up, looking as though she didn’t notice the lack of light until just then and spoke. “Oh yes, yes… I could.. could soil my clothes.” She spoke as if she was out of place, misplaced pausing between some of her words. She continued staring at her hands which after brushing herself off were covered in dirt. A single leaf hung by a thread from the sleeve of the woman’s jacket, spinning not knowing in which direction it wanted to take it’s leap. After falling it still wouldn’t know which way to go, nor would any other normal leaf for that matter.

The woman picked up her hand bag, said a small farewell and was on her way. She left the man standing looking as if he had just been robbed. He wondered if in the same situation, other people would be just as curious. Then he wandered from his normal path that he knew so well, to follow a woman he did not know. What would make a solitary man who stayed set on every decision he’s ever made, stray so far off from his planned night? Which of course was skipping dinner and going to bed. He had been blown off, his date had lied and was probably just trying to end on a more generous note, but that’s done and over with now. The standing circumstances have led to new and more exciting events. He knew he wouldn’t normally talk to strangers even if they were out of place, he would walk straight ahead with only the rounding of corners to slow or speed up his night.

Frigid breathing followed by heavy steps.. The man can’t see the woman, not just yet, most likely staring at her hands, still with absolutely no plan. A garden lay ahead and this winter had left everything a mess for spring. A natural mulch was covering everything within and around a miniature white picket fence. Someone’s once had dream. Found. In the light she looked more like a girl than a woman. In this case, woman didn’t sound as endearing as girl. There the girl sat, again, cross legged and staring at her open and empty hands. The man walked up and placed a dandelion in her hands. He wished it was a Crocus flower, such a strong willed flower and not obtaining attributes of a weed. Her head barely lifted and she looked as though she would say something. Nothing. These are the things of which willpower is made. He made a wide and slow turn, waiting briefly while looking back at the girl, who now held a flower in once empty hands. Still, she showed no more of a response. The man began his steady pace home. He knew nothing of this girl and she knew nothing of him.

I should always write, just to write, if not to be absolutely adorned in creativity.  I should let the doors… gates.. windows… open so life can flood in.  In reality I tend to hide alone, bitter and cold over what has or hasn’t happened.  I like rambling.  Nonsense to fill the emptiness that follows the echo of what used to be noise.  Oh so poetic I am, am I? How will you know where to start, where to pick up if you never ever wanted it anyways.   You will always be at a loss for words when the ones you love don’t surrender their heart and soul as you have.  There’s nothing to say, only a drop of a jaw and a drip of a tear.  I’ve said it before and I will say it again, I have nothing to say.  I’ve only been convinced into thinking that I do.  That should apply for most others as well.  The world would be a quieter place if we didn’t feel we HAD to talk.  How is it that no one has ever given us that side or view? Why can’t we all just be quiet where necessary?  Don’t talk unless it’s to help.  Don’t hurt unless it’s because you’ve foolishly broken your leg.  Why these useless words? Does it really strengthen all of us? I think it breaks most of us down inside and out.  What the heart and soul feels shows on the outside.  We become vulnerable.  We stop eating, or stop eating healthy.  Our skin ages, bacteria infests in our pores, blood rushes, veins rise to the surface of our dry irritated skin.  It’s not what we want.  So we pretend to be happy? Or do we pretend to be lonely so that others feel it necessary to make you feel whole again?  It’s tricky the tricks your mind will play on you.  So we practice.. in our heads.  All of our lives what we’re thinking is just a silent and unknown practice… We practice all of the things we’ll one day show to everyone else.  You grow up but in your head, your way of thinking will be smeared all over each person’s life that you come into contact with.  Try this.  Don’t breathe just talk.. because you’ll realize how much of a dick you are just by nature.  Then you can learn to control it… Try to control it, and Love it and Hold it.  Because if it goes unnoticed it’s an idea and a way that grows.  It’s a tumor, an absess that needs to be removed.  So, treat it!  I really do believe in self therapy.  If you can think it, you can fix it, save it or if you want just break it.  Do what you need to in order to correct other areas of your life and slowly the circle will heal.  Your mind will feel whole again and your eyes will feel heavy.  Heavy with what they now can see and do… you’ll be stronger, livelier and more apt to make better decisions and speak positively on subjects that you once disliked or let soak into your already drooping shoulders.  Negativity is a lie that you cannot accept so your brain wraps and wraps until all you can think about is how sad you are about everything when you’re not sad at all.. (if you can think that you’re not sad) it will eat your soul… the way you think will eat your soul.

And finally your face to put an end to this foul sound. They forget your edge, they forget when you’re around….. But you look so sincere when its your mouth and not your ear. We won’t be nice we won’t hold our own.. We act out of place and we represent this town.. A melting pot of who’s right and who’s not…. No one will win, they say someone will. But we’re not voting.. We’re just eating the pill. It doesn’t take, it just pushes your will, to lie and to cheat… To get what you want, you look so sincere when its your mouth and not your ear..

you slug along, and it’s slow enough for you.  until it’s too slow for someone else and they give you so much shit that it’s no longer convenient for you to be sluggish.

fuck you all in the aorta.

A good amount of time ago things were sad, misspoken, misunderstood.  I held my own and the earth curled up around me.  I felt alone, without an army, without strength in numbers, without friends.  Since then, I’ve grown towards better troops, higher standards, more discipline, and even more self control.

My heart is with the gods of the sky and of the ground, cloud & forest.. A future full of feathered & furry friends. A past filled with scales, sharp talons & broken ends. Drinks to soothe the mind & food to pass the time. The night feels the fire of the golden sun but wants to hold it’s own in a fight that’s already been won.

if you rely on other people for your own happiness.

I’ve talked about it, cried about it, laughed about it and most definitely lied about it.  I’ve said that I was fine, I’ve said I was better, made a fool of myself and now hate myself.  I described it as life not giving me lemons & trying to pick my own.  The tree didn’t belong to me but the lemonade would have been the best there could have ever been.  Now, after going insane over the situation, I get to sit under the tree and look at the lemons and occasionally talk to the lemons if need be.  At least the grass and the weather is nice on occasion.  But, still, the lemons act as if they do not care.  The tree thrives in sticky situations.  The sky spits in rage reminding me of Love and how much it hurts.

Hopefully the rain will never stop because everything would dry up and all of the green would definitely fade.  It’s funny that sunny side down is the best way that I can describe myself.  Jaded as fuck, always right.  If I was to ever be wrong - it would result in happiness. 



Negativity bring me down, sell my soul to the ground find a way to break my heart, and with the end will be the start.