open

i used to be the hero of this story
but then i woke up from your spell
the fairy tale is over
the magic is gone
i needed you most
in broken heart and broken mind
i can't fathom how
but it was then you walked away from me

i've fallen short of my former glory
and i've been trapped in this hell
this agony i can't cover
cause i am alone
i've been lost
seeking the path i cannot find
i need you now
this isn't how it was supposed to be

i opened my eyes
and found this strange, new world around me
i didn't realize
that you had left me alone

what i don't say, you won't know
what you don't know can't hurt you
so many things have changed
too many questions
not enough answers

why can't things be the same?
why do you keep calling my name?
why won't you open your eyes?

just open your eyes

please open your eyes

i need you to open your eyes

unmasked

there are times when we are given the rare opportunity to know extraordinary people. some of them are those that we wouldn't give a second glance if we were to pass them on the street. they appear to be jaded, introverted, surly, altogether unlikable. the type of people we usually try to avoid. or sometimes people who seem to be very together, who are unbelievable by anyone's standards and who can make us feel inadequate at times.

but when we take a chance on them and decide to extend our boundaries and go beyond our comfort zone, we come to know these people. and the more time we spend with them, the more we come to realize who it is they really are, that they're amazing.

given time, we learn their stories, the things that made them who they are and their reasons of certain things. but even after years, we might never know everything about them. but we don't really have to.

because we love them anyway, regardless of time and circumstance.

they're the ones that stay with us.

wonder

to see the world in a strange new way, to view reality through rose-colored glasses. lenses that do not obstruct or distort but allow a newfound perception. to look through the eyes of another and see what they see. to know the world of a friend or loved one. we cannot truly experience life as they would.

but when they open their hearts and their minds to the world, they show the color of their soul. we see the world through their eyes and we rediscover the beauty in things that had been lost to us.

even a glimpse into another's mind can draw you deep into a strange, wonderful place. and it can fill you with hope. it gives you the resolve to endure through the night so that you might awake to the dawn. strength is bestowed to believe in a new day.

to see this world through strange eyes and rose-colored glasses.

reminiscence

an overwhelming wave of nostalgia often washes over me as i reach an end. the conclusion of a season or year. when time spent with loved ones begins to wind down. the finish of a day, a week a month. reflection following these ends is, more often than not, filled with the sorrow and regret that i did not make anything more of the time than i did.

but i have come to terms that this feeling is inevitable, it has always come and will continue to do so forever more.

but more than that, i have also come to know that another emotion that always accompanies my nostalgia: hope. it is the guiding light that leads me through the darkness of my remorse to the new dawn. a brand new day awaits following every night filled with grief. a chance to do better and realize the dreams you dreamed the sleep before.

wake

there are dreams that cannot be forgotten.

these shades of a life we could have. that we might have had. we witness these incredible visions of things that have not come to pass, things that could seem only to exist in an idyllic reality. but in the moment, it feels possible. it feels real.

our dreams make us happy, happier than we could think to be in the waking present. the euphoria they have the ability to create is unparalleled. but when we awake, our worlds collide and the illusions are shattered.

but the unravelling of our dreams to separate them from reality is necessary to test their strength. to root out the weak and demonstrate which ones have a will to survive. which ones have the ardor and power to enter the world of reality.

they leave their mark, willing themselves into our conscoiusness. there they burrow, creating a longing, a hollow within our souls. but the emptiness is a wound that can only be healed by that which caused it: the dream. and when it is filled, we are whole again.

our dreams are what make us human. dreams give us vitality. dreams give us hope.

dreams are the chance to make our deepest desires come to pass.

i dream to be woken up.

forgotten

why is it, that at many points throughout our daily lives, we enounter the most remarkable individuals and receive opportunities to be enthralled by them, by their wisdom, their kindness, their beauty, and yet we say nothing of it, letting their splendor go seemingly unnoticed? is it simply because we believe they are aware of it, that they are reminded of it so many times each and every day? does it ever occur to us that this might not be the case, that these beautiful aspects of those around us are taken for granted, unappreciated and ignored?

what difficulty is it to go an extra step and let these complimentary thoughts become realized as words? why can we not let them know they are precious to us?

why is it i cannot convey what it is i want to say?

rant

i observe the world through critical eyes, watching the destructive forces of the media tear apart our pastimes, interests and entertainment. it is difficult to imagine a future where our creative forces have been strengthened and given the power to build worlds that are not filled with hollow shades of the latest dying trend, allowed to compose unrestrained by the binding idiocy of the modern age.

regrettably, much of my creation is due to the work of others, inspiration always capable of being traced to its root, the source of its birth. in fact, a great deal of my works begin as a nearly identical copy of the original template, only slight details altered within the whole.

but through a fair deal of effort and natural evolution, these ideas seemingly take on lives of their own, developing and shifting ways i would have never before thought possible. but i believe that they, in similitude of myself, are dissatisfied with the shallow echoes that fill our reality, yearning for more, a freedom from these shackles of the world.

but our generation seems to be fueled solely by rebellion. their lives are steered by it; they are possessed of radical notions, simply desirous of defiance. this robs them of individual thought, always being swayed into the contrary by others.

but there are others who choose to stand alone, to persist in being unfettered by the raging machines around them.

my faith in the world is lost but it remains with those chosen few who still retain a will to create and resolve to fight. should they remain diligent and steadfast, they will be those who craft the future, the forerunners who raise the coming generation. and that gives me hope.

mirrors

when i go home at the day's end

there is a test i must pass

a reflection of what my life has amounted to

reminiscence on what i have done

there is but one question to be answered

"what will he think,

this man in the glass?"

would he be pleased?

would he approve of things i had done?

what would he say,

the man in the glass?

could he speak with pride about me?

when the sun has set

there is no one but he and i

this man who follows me about

watching my every move

it is he i must live with

and he alone, this man in the glass

before i can sleep

there is one final test i must pass

when i see him, the man in the glass

can i look him in the eye?

gemini

there are times in our lives where we encounter others who are nearly a reflection of ourselves. they may be warped into forms completely separate from our own, a different gender or diverse abilities and interests, and sometimes this makes them difficult to recognize. but i believe that regardless of what may come, nothing can stop us from crossing paths with these remarkable individuals.


i think i've had the incredibly fortunate experience of chancing upon several of these people, those who are like twins to me, and spending a great deal of time with them. they have helped me grow, and continue to shape me.

but there are times where i feel that these, my twins, are more alien to me than most others. they, who i feel can read my thoughts at times, have become persons unknown to me. we are strangers with an intricate knowledge of each other.

and then, moments pass where i feel as if we were born of elements from the same soul, crafted to be one and the same but split apart through the tests of life. it is in these instances i relish, reveling in the sweet poetry born of them. they show me it is as if we were at one time utterly identical but time and trial had taken its toll, changing us, but not breaking us. we still match, joining together in perfect harmony, but we have shifted into a symphony rather than remaining clones of one another. parts of us accent others, and some negate each other, uniting to create a masterpiece of prodigious proportions.

but then the elegance fades and we return to our illusory world, believing that what existed is unattainable and, even if we had achieved it, it would be beyond the realm of possibility to accomplish it again.

i reject the chimerical existence given to me and challenge the fallacious reality that surrounds us. i choose more.

i choose rapture.

complexity

for some time now, i have participated in the fruitless and futile endeavor led by men to understand our counterpart species: women. these intricate creatures have the most extravegant thought processes, capable of racing through a variety of topics in just a short amount of time.

i must admit, i have spent time behind enemy lines, so to speak. so much in fact that i've somehow formed a splinter sect that cannot be categorized either as male or female. i simply stand alone.

as a maverick, i have been allowed to delve into this deep, malicious sea of swirling, grim thoughts and endless feminine confusion. these stormy waters are treacherous, and I have found they have been plaguing women for many years. i admire them for their daring perdurance, but their tenacity seems to be capable of going only so far.

our modern world has inflicted a canker of inadequacy on them, and it grows as a rot in their minds. the corrosive words that surround them are as a shroud of darkness, threatening to destroy. and there are instances where the contention is too much to bear and surrender becomes an attractive option.

but i implore you to endure. the night is always darkest before the dawn. there is always hope, always the promise of the coming light. we must suffer trials and hardships in our lives before we can partake of the sweet fruit borne of them.

our women are incredible. they fight an unjust battle and, at times, they fight it alone. and that is more commendable than any other achievement i find conceivable. this is my tribute to them.

oddity

a strange revelation: people actually read my blog? i can't say i appreciate the pressure when i am told that some have come to the absurd conclusion that they find it intriguing, but let it be noted i am most definitely grateful for the support.

something else i find curious is that i only have a vague recollection of writing anything on this page. most of it seems as if it were crafted from nothingness, or simply summoned by an unknown entity.

whoever it is, this creature who lurks in the shadows, i hope that it lingers for a bit longer.

envy

i cannot tell a lie, i've always been jealous of my sister's easy way with words. in whatever writings she conjures up, there exists a magnificence that i eternally attempt to imitate and i will evermore fall short of her splendor.

but nevertheless, i will strive to scale this massive mount of brilliance, if only in the hope that i will ascend high enough to barely glimpse the radiance of her works. it is a vain hope, but it is what anchors me to this endeavor of creation within the bounds of script, an essay of poetic prose.

however, i fear that this aspiration is my undoing. my method of soaring language and words lathered in embellishment is a repellant, chasing away any who might stumble upon what i have written.

without a guide in this sphere of thought, i will continue in my loquacious manner, if only to continue writing for my own purposes.

recreation

not in the sense of alleviation or amusement but rather an allusion to the revival of my blog in a new form. renewed both in separate appearance and purpose.

i once considered this as a resting place for my thoughts, somewhere for them to live freely and develop into ideas and structure themselves into a reality of some sort. but more and more, it became a graveyard. it had grown to be a place for my dead works to be remembered, not even known.

but now i choose to acquiesce with the part of my soul which longs for a world to serve as a new fountain. a place where thoughts must not meet certain criterion or pass judgement of worthiness, they simply need exist and they are granted entrance.

however, that does not give them leave to be bleak and barren of elegance. i'll do my best to polish them and confuse whatever readers choose to partake of them.

sleep

such misery; such pain. the agony mocks me. taunting with images of what could be. the words i wrote, the illustration of my passions, now serves as only a memento from another time, another life.


memories are fading fast; the words become a dizzy slur. the racing world blurs past. i've lost my place in life.


the words seem hollow now. chosen with care, conflicted by emotion. i'm overwhelmed in confusion, too caught up in the past. i was stuck in an illusion that the moments could ever last.


lost in a mental cacophony of drowsy thoughts, my uncertainty increases. i cannot myself in the faceless crowd.

darkness

at a time, i lived my life in a blinding world with cutting words forged from fire. now, i find myself in a darkened realm filled with whispered secrets, confusion and uncertainty.


for a time, i found myself without a guide, without a chance in the fight. suddenly, twin lights stared my in the face, bringing with them the promise of life, long since lost.


in the light of familiar sunshine, i've realized i have lived my life in torture, chasing wild dreams that pass as smoke through my fingers, missing entirely the plain view of reality, continuing despite my lack of attention. and my wishes, as shown in the light, have proven empty, void of any promise.


and now, i am saddened, left only with an empty page.