Wider

This hole is getting wider and wider
No matter how many times shovel hits ground
Wider and wider
Loose earth piles round
But this hole is just getting wider

Tip toe on egg shells
Pray this paper thin thread
Won't break under the weight
Of this living half truth

You can't take back your words
The lies only get wider and wider
No matter how many times shovel hits ground
Wider and wider
Loose earth piles round
This hole is getting wider

Like treading thin ice
Like walking on water
It's the quicksand
But we all know it isn't that fast

You can't dig yourself out of a hole
The mess only gets wider and wider
No matter how many times shovel hits ground
Wider and wider
Loose earth piles round
This hole is getting wider

There's no climbing up the mounds
No out stretched hand to pull you out
Sound emits nothing but air from your mouth
Tears make tracks down your dirt smitten face

But there's no climbing up the mounds
No out stretched hand to pull you out
No matter how many times shovel hits ground
Loose earth piles, edges round
And this hole gets wider and wider

Validation?

Well, we're going on day four of nothing, and it seems the longer the silence draws out, the less upset I am. I had an epiphany the other day, as I was lounging with my friend and mother. Quite exciting really. I figure I'm on number six, and according to my mom, the next is number seven; lucky seven. SO! With that in mind, there's hope yet!

I've a meeting to attend tonight for my business. Who knows? Maybe No. 7 will be present. Maybe, just maybe, we'll say "Hi" and exchange a few laughs. Or it is possible No. 7 won't be present and we won't converse. That's alright too. I still have No. 6, just not sure for how much longer. It seems almost pointless. As though it's really just a waste of time. I drove to this point in my epiphany. Came to this conclusion without a map, sort of just hit me square in the face. I wonder what No. 6 is doing... I wonder if No. 6 understands what goes on in my mind, or if No. 6 thinks of me as often as I think of No. 6. I doubt it. However! One cannot be hasty, so I'm waiting, not quite so patiently, but waiting nonetheless (did you know that is in fact one word?). I'll sit and twiddle my thumbs until I hear from No. 6. That'll be a happy moment, even if fleeting, when I hear from No. 6. It will indeed.

I was reading in a book recently that we, as humans, thanks to the fall, crave validation outside of our own personal esteem. I fear I tumble into this category quite completely. Why is there this need to receive compliments of various sorts on a regular basis, otherwise one's self-worth seems, well, worthless? Well, simply because now there's a barrier between God and man. Thankfully Christ is our bridge, but it's harder to get that validation. It's a constant struggle that is easier found through man, then The Supreme Being. Wretched. I find myself wanting this validation from men, be it my father, friends, beaus, which ever... Quite sad. It's been pointed out that, yes, I still have this need, and so I'm going to do my best to curb it.

Now, if only No. 6 would call...

Unknown Lover

Only known through the pains of beveled glass
The closer I am, the farther you run
This plague ridden lust
Touch the flesh; leave the mind undone

Is it too much to ask
A small peice of your heart
A light into this tunnel black
You touch my flesh, and I fall apart

Does it make you worry
Does it make you tremble at my kiss
Knowing I want more
Knowing I need more than this

The longer we play this charade
The darker your shadow becomes
The colder you turn
The less I succumb

Man of mystery
This facade you've donned
Cannot mask your fear
It swims in your eyes
And drips from your blood

So I'll sit here on this side of the beveled glass
For the closer I am, the farther you run
I'm tired of this plague ridden lust
Don't touch my flesh; leave me undone

LipStick

...a woman always feels more grown up when she leaves lipstick on her cup.

I guess for today, I can wear my mama's shoes and pearls and horn-rimmed glasses... so long as I leave lipstick on my cup.

Letters

Soon I'll be alone.
Soon I'll be by myself, on my own.
Left to my thoughts, left to my hauntings
Left to myself, alone.

(Chorus)
I want to know the real you
I want to know why you think the way you do
But sadly all I have are the letters you wrote
Years ago, to someone else

Once I'm alone, by myself, on my own
I'll have to figure out how this world turns
Why its axis tilts
Why equllibrium is key
I'll need to find the "becauses" to my "whys"

I wonder what will happen
Once you've faded into the horizon
Will I move on?
Will I find the answers that I seek?

(Chorus)

I wonder what happened to the past
The short lived joys
The days of laughter
Days when you let me know what was ticking on your reel

Now I search for a stranger to confess to
A voice that has no preconcieved notions
No judging thoughts in the parking lot
Just a voice with whom I can delve into the deep unknown

It seams I've lost you
Lost what I thought I knew
Lost the key to opening your door
And now I'm left to the stranger once more

(Chorus)

I wanted to know the real you
I wanted to know why you think the way you do
But sadly all I have are the letters you wrote
Years ago, to someone else

Now you're just a line on the horizon
A dot upon the atlas
An index card filed away in the corner of my memory
And to think today is merely Monday

Pondering the Complexities of the Down Trodden Mind...

Consider this:
...

Exactly. My mind is on overdrive and I can't seem to shut it down. I'd like to think that I've more control over my life than I, in fact, actually do. I find it fascinating that within a span of three days, I've read or been told this little fact: I'm not in control.

What!? When did this happen?

When did I lose control over what I call "my" life? What we call "our" lives!? Apparently we never had it in the first place.

Control is merely an allusion, a little veil that hangs before your eyes, lying to you, telling you that you have the power to choose your destiny. What it fails to inform you of is that, although you might be able to physically move one foot in front of the other, you have no sway over who might walk in front of your path, who might stand in your way, or what may hinder your progress. You've no idea, no comprehension of the people, things, events that, like monsters under your bed, could rise and take hold of you from behind, dragging you into their dark chasms of despair. Riveting no?

So now that we've all been informed that we, as difficult as it may be to understand, have no manipulation over our lives, what do we do? Where do we go from here? I'm sorry, but this has completely shaken my world to pieces, little fragments of an ideology now thrashed upon the broken concrete of my mind. Do we gather ourselves from the ground and try to put the shards back together, a puzzle if you will? I'm sorry, but if we've no control how on earth are we supposed to pick ourselves back up!?

Jesus Christ. That's a Being of whom I fully believe in to be THE one and ONLY God. With a capital "g". So, this being said, you'd think I wouldn't mind not being in control, considering I've this almighty God protecting me and guiding me. Ye of little faith! As childish as I am, as much as I strive to hold on to all things young, why cannot I follow Him blindly like a child!? Why is "faith like a child" so difficult to grasp? This is when my adult mind kicks in, the one moment when I'd rather it not, it does.

I read recently that "reality is like fine wine... It doesn't appeal to children". I think there's truth in that, for I fear that I cling far too tightly to my blanket of childhood. To the comfort in lack of responsibility.

Only, in doing so, I'm falling deeper and deeper into a depression clouded by happiness. I want to stop falling, I want to finally touch the blades of grass that wave at me from below.



I want to stop.

Silence the Voices

The voices in your head
Swing from the sinue of your mind
Chanting thoughts and words
You know are not your own desires
But you listen to them
You listen and you drink
Their words like wine

Oh we're nothing more than an empty shell
To shed our skin and let our souls dance
Upon the velvet grass and soar freely
Like eagles, we're searching for the perfect resting
Ground our hearts for we wear concrete shoes

This maelstrom thrashes about my mind
These words choke as they flow from thought
To phrase this emotion would entomb a nothingness
And the rambling would cease
As would my sanity

These voices in my head
They pull at my right and wrong
They say the words I feel
They torment me with distress
And here I lay - unrest

Trapped within a walking corpse
Longing to be free, my heart begs to explode
To burst into ten million shards
Sharp enough to waken the dead
And rehabilitate the rest of the world

Tired I lay
Tired I strive to accomplish this alone
And so doing, tired I'll stay