Atalist's Dungeon

I see you, your beautiful cherubim face. Framed by tawny, wild hair. Your face strong and beautiful. Serious is your reaction to me. I realize I may have done something. I cannot look away from your face. When I do I am lost. I see my aid and my judge. he looks as if he was chiseled from grace. I look back up to him and I am overthrown. He is shaking his head at me. I know what i have done and so does he. Here stands my angry angel. I have some explaining to do, yet I don't feel guilty. How could I? I am awe struck and my head swims. I focus and then let go. His definitive tone tells me the time for repentance is at hand. I cannot seem to pull it from me. here we stand, at the ends of time and I cannot do what my angel asks of me. Inept I stand, a lonely withered, and jaded young woman.

Fire, I long for a spark. to be burned in the fire, and lose myself in its flames. To kiss the embers and know. To feel the ash against my skin, the flames licking me. let everything melt away. the bitterness... The coldness around my heart...

There are moments, moments when you ask me what is wrong, moments in the day when you question things that I cannot answer. I am enjoying my solitude. a safe place I have created and dwell within. These walls I have built are mighty. No climbing required. If you were allowed in I would open the gates of my caring arms. I am at peace with myself. Figuring out my destiny and life. It is an exciting adventure I am on. A path of self-discovery. I don't need someone to hold my hand through it, that isn't what this is about. Its about Self. Its about perseverance. To rely on myself for change and make my way through the ages. I need myself. and am content in this.

Memories fade, wrinkles appear. Life changes, and things disappear. The passing of time, moves steadily on. quicker than light, the sun breaking dawn. It is a strange thing, to feel old and lose place. rationing breaths, as they seem to be displaced. Knowledge and know how, Years to be counted and measured Frailty adorn thy face, fore lorn grace and composure.

I regale myself with memories that aren't mine. Its a beautiful melancholy. Something in that way, I am moved by it. I feel my head and my heart connect. sentiment provoked. an era of youth and freedom. Spirit, and love come forth and show me a simpler time. A time when the grass was green and the sky shimmered. Where peace was revolutionary. The people fought for freedoms. For the right to love, live and be secure in themselves. To end oppression and war. Oh to have lived then and seen the revolution unfold. Now in the present time, i sit here and look at pictures listening to the sounds of an era, and all I can think is how can my generation be as productive. Aspiring to be revolutionary. Aspiring to create change and make a mark. Something in the way I will move things. Yes, I will move things

Wow, I am a destructive being. I look at my room and think, is this what it's like to be a creative mind? My room takes the fall for my creativity? I am a Natural disaster. Hurricane Lindsey coming through to destroy my room. The wreckage in my wake is unfathomable. I am definitely a force!!!

I sit here and think. For it is all I can do. There is no rest for the wicked, and I have been wicked. I have thought bad thoughts, and done bad things. I have wished bad things upon people. No saint am I. Yet, here I stand accountable for my actions. I will fully admit my wrong doings. I see so many around me in denial and it makes me laugh. Responsibility is unknown to many. I admit that I can be irresponsible... but not when it comes to things I have done to people. Owning up to your skeletons does not come easy. here I stand. Accountable. Ready to be judged just like the next person... I wonder if my ex could say the same? I believe he would run scared from his executioners... that also makes me laugh. Some people are born brave, others never learn what bravery is. Look out world I am one brave soul.

I am tired. Tired of all the frivolity. Exhausted by the effort. Why does it have to be like this? I question with a shrug. because nothing is ever easy. I just wish that this all was done with. I am so very tired of chasing. maybe its time that I hide instead.

So today I hear that you are engaged. Wow, I guess I was that easy to throw away. I am important, maybe not to you but I am. I will find my prince charming... I am done kissing frogs, you were pretty slimy after all... I am moving on... time to go pick flowers or fall asleep for awhile, that is how the princesses do it right? I think I will do what I want and see who wants to join in. I am happier with that outcome... You enjoy being engaged. I will enjoy it as I watch the divorce rate go up

Stab me, cut me deep. Twist the knife in my wounds you create. Tear my flesh and wake my pain from within. Relish in the fact you have taken from me. Life, freedom, blood. You have taken and given me mortality. You have made me feel, used, isolated and fearful. Is this it? I ask with a sigh, This feels like something I have felt before... This feels like when you ripped my heart from me. Like when we ceased to be we. The end of a relationship, profound in its death.

What more is there to say, I can't help but feel it. there are days I miss you. It is wrong to feel this, wrong to want you. But I do. You sing to me and I hear it. You are embedded in my soul. your rhythm displaces reason. I am confounded by my misery on the subject. you transfixed me, and now are misplaced. How tormenting this is. I can only hope that you come back to me...

Oh boy, what have you done here. You tell me all these thing, Lovely things. That you want to spend time, That you want to be friends. When in reality, your intentions have been proven otherwise. Do you not realize you are transparent? I can see you, Clearly. This will not work, as much as you want it to... We are not destined you and I. I am already attached to someone. I cannot emotionally connect and be with you, when my heart is off wandering somewhere else.

A child in grown up's clothing, So frail and indignant. How interesting to see you move about. Damaged and annoyed. You lack the maturity of the age you are, and yet, there are moments when you are wise beyond your years. Paradoxical. you play with your toys, the world as you see it revolves around you. as it should for a child. Now this isn't a negative thing. Its a matter of perspective. A childlike essence protects us at times, from the dangers of the outside. a child's emotional state changes, fluctuates from moment to moment. Unpredictable and that in itself is security. We all are attached to some form of our childishness. I will never let go of aspect of my early years, why should I expect others to do that too.

Toss and turn in my sleep, from all the dreams you steal and keep. I know not what you do with them, within my slumber they are nightmares of men. I awake with a jolt, and the instinct to bolt. Yet I sit upright and try, feeling terrified I remember why. I remain in my bed, bleary-eyed and filled with dread. What scared me the most? my dreams the uninhibited host. In them I see what could've been. Things I wished I had never seen. There he was, our child in hand. Her reaching out to me with a look of demand. behind him I saw all of his conquests, past, present and future west's. I try to run away from this, this view I completely dismiss. I feel better knowing it was just lies no more panic, fury and sighs. I just have to breathe and start my day right, my only concern is if it will come back this next night.

Adrenaline surges, that quaking, shaking, breaking feeling. No recourse for what I am feeling. Its a deep and dark web we spin. Spiders in our own tangled web of lies and grave yard of hurt. Just like the game of manipulation I play, each little fly has its own strings to be pulled until they are lured to my web. I pluck the wings off them because I can. I am that horribly jaded that I enjoy it. For sport, for thrill, for their agony. I cause my own torment. Its not enough to merely feel bad about doing what you do. you have to want to repent. Wanting is the challenge. I will be the first to admit I do this. anguish and misery are dolls for me to play with. Until I am ready I will continue to do what it is I do. I know that I am not ready... but will the rest of the world figure this out? Unknown. Until then I wait for the next fly to land on the edge of my web.

I want to kiss a boy, not just any old boy. a special boy. At least to me. I want to feel butterflies, feel that surge of energy, like the world is going to end. truth without words. to feel giddy I think about what it would feel like on the other end. Is it just as powerful? guys don't talk about this stuff. but some days I wonder. Does he think about how he affects me, or rather how he feels? most guys don't talk about feelings. It is deemed weak by society. Well fuck society in that regard. There is nothing wrong with understanding feeling. Maybe just maybe, men and women wouldn't be such a great mystery to each other. no more paradoxical questions in regards to the opposite sex. Just understanding, and butterflies.

I dream of you. Riding into your place. Tears streaming down, my glistening pale face. I want you to protect me, from the evils I will incur, to fight off the bad guys, saying unhand her sir! I want you to whisk me, off of my tiny feet. To take my burdens away, and make me feel complete. I await you my white knight, to hear your heart's call. To be tied to you for eternity, to live happily ever after all.

I dream about you, wish that you were here. Is it too much to ask for some peace? Surrendering myself to the longing I feel. The empty pit in my stomach and the grief I feel. Over bearing the sense to feel the peculiar numbness. It takes a lot. There are moments when I know it would be easier to just fall. To become the heap on the floor. Knowing that this urge to make my bed on the tile flooring will fade, I placate my sense of reason and control. I show my strength through standing. Yes, that is right, keep telling yourself that. One more thing to add to the growing pile. My "deal with" pile is vast. and procrastination is an ugly habit. The somber atmosphere sets in. Death and all the anguish come with it. My rose coloured glasses are replaced with grey. It is the clown who cannot smile anymore. The lack lustre drone. piece by piece it will come back into view. Right now, I adjust to the winter haze coming my way. a wooden box and a still being, nothing is as it was, and ...