Just another shadow.

I remember a time where the railroad tracks would lie dormant and I would trace them with my fingertips. As a train steamed by I watched in awe as something passed so quickly and so dangerously before my eyes until the railroad tracks screamed in pain, calling out for me to ease their suffering. All I could do was listen. Some people want to suffer with the rails until their bleak and obligatory ending becomes written like the final chapter to a saga of books. I remember a time when the love I had for another person nearly killed me and I have never been able to love since. I felt my stomach twist so tightly it burst into a thousand little pieces, only to regenerate and do it all over again. I looked you dead in the eye with every single fiber of my being wanting every single fiber of yours as you looked at me with nothing but coldness. I don't even know who you are now. People think, and really honestly think that they know what will make them happy. They believe amongst all else, there is the one thing just barely out of their grasp that if they...could...just...reeeeach for it.... It will not make you happy. She won't make you happy, and he won't make you happy. You try to map out your body, all its crevices, corners, secret spots. You cleverly hide obvious secrets in your map so that when they are found, it seems accidental. Every single story that makes you who you are you let burrow in between your veins and tendons with the slightest bit of hope that someone will come along and dig for them. You do this is the search of something pure. Something honest, something real. But it is all just a lie everyone tells you with a smirk and a "cheers" gesture with their poison cupped firmly in their right hand. Why is it so hard to find an individual soul like mine, trying to read the maps we make of ourselves? We count pounds down. We count tears fallen. We count freckles and goosebumps and spend the money we work for to make everything smell nice and look pretty, and for what? To be ignored. She essentially pushes you to the ground without ever even having to utter one word. We are weak. We allow ourselves to be weak. We only trust ourselves and when our bodies give up on us? we have nothing. I know you are aware. I know you are awake, alert, and you are too far gone. I'm waiting for someone to toss me a line to bring me back on board, because I too, feel that I am far too gone. I jump into portal after portal after portal. To another dimension, another reality. There you are, heart in hand. In one piece. You are my subject. I wring you like a rag and use every single drop of you as a metaphor for my own bleak harsh and monotonous reality. All I thrive on is a little green light. It sits there taunting me. Is he there? Is he listening? Does he want to figure me out? It iss all a fucking game. Its my own fucking game. I, myself, am made up of little tiny bits of imagination and ingenuity. Gears and cogs grind in my brain and I can only think about slaying demons in the freudal age looking for tiny pieces of crystal that bring out inner demons, or inner purity. It's like I keep trying to push an unmovable object with the slightest bit of hope that if I just keep fucking trying, it will eventually budge. And that one little budge that might happen is enough for me to keep pushing until my arms turn into gelatin and my body is covered in sweat. I want to sweat for you. Time continues beating like the heart inside all of us. The more tortured you are, the faster your time moves. We all want the same things. We all try to escape from the society that we built for ourselves. We are beautiful fucking creatures. Our bodies are magnificent machinery that when we keep well maintained, can do anything. I am floating, and am stuck, between two different spectrums of behavior. I want to feel a certain way, but I don't. I sleep for hours, hours, hours. In my dreams everything is perfect. You are not there. The lives we live are fueled by anger, emptiness and sorrow. So much so that we become dried up like raisins with no real direction. The way she moves tantalizes you. You are unaware of how or why, but it does. All alone you search for an answer to questions you don't even really understand but are still asking. I gave up the pretense that if I keep perusing an exhausted cause, eventually everything will fix itself. It does not. It becomes much, much worse. My friends would rather take the chance of betraying me then apologizing than just asking permission, which I would have granted. Your sick sad sorry excuse for a person doesn't belittle the fact that what I felt was real, it was painful, and I haven't been the same since. But, go ahead. You'll just end up feeling the same way. I lay my head down on my pillow my body onto my mattress. I think about what you are doing in your home. How you deal with your stress. I wonder how I can pull this together in the way that I want but after awhile, I realize I cannot. A part of me wants to feel sorry for myself, but that time has since passed. I cut my heart open for you and I watch it bleed out but you do nothing. I won't regret a thing. I swam through the halls in search of love, but it was never reciprocated. I am the ghost within your walls holding all your secrets preventing the sunlight from reaching your face. You are trapped inside the idea of what you think you want. Phrases and words make their way around my head as if swimming in a pool of lost emotions and thoughts. We're all fucking trapped in our own ideas of happiness. How are we to escape? We may never figure it out. Stop focusing on the Heavens your branches are reaching for, you will always be rooted in the dirt. Never forget where you come from. The scars and stories that make up your existence. All we are and ever will be is a string of experiences. My ideals bounce within the measures and notes of the sweet melodies that appease my inner soul. I feel warm all over from the sounds that understand me so much better than people do. The manifestation of the sheet music rings through my skull and I smile. This is it. This is all we will ever have. Time to face it with dignity and eloquence. I give you everything. Take it or not, it's all I have.