In The In Between...

Now she is lost but the rain has cleared from her eyes and she sees you for what you are. How ridiculous to think you are important to anyone. Who cares in the first place? She did for a second but her pain won't let you tarnish her name. A man in one respect and a Lil boy in the other. Past, present, and future tense. Glimpse of nothing. The four corners are met at the fiery gates. Here is where she judges you.

This station is now just static. Turn to the next is more static. Look through the tube. The snow is still there. Dancing down funeral lane. She abused herself. Keeps running to nothing. Hitting a wall.

Caps lock.

Its raining so hard. Stuck in her head. Tables turn and you're no good. Now you are stuck there as a shadow, a ghost. Sustain the will that she has to the gamble of what is you and your love. but not your love for her but your love for yourself.

Cold stares.

She abandoned herself in her time of need to pull the other from the high tides. And what she is left with is an empty hand. A shadow, a ghost, a shell of what once was. The insides are cold and pale. The gazebo is her shelter; her shelter from the pain. The pain of her life and the grievances she did complete. The shadows dance in the day and into the night. They are all around us but it is for him to see what he actually can't see or where he chooses to hide what he does actually feel. This place is not one place but it is also not the other place.

His memories remain...

But you can't go back. Take the hand that preys on you and drop it and let gravity take its course. A spiritual awakening. The gospels have been prepared. If it is in a name you will see it on the other side. All signs point in no direction. The candle still burns and when its time for its descent she is there to reignite the light in her own perfect world.

Inner peace is met..

As this may seem like a speech it is somewhat in tune in your life, in his, hers, theirs, and ours. Maybe she will shed the cast. The mold as of what she has created here.

Solace.

Crossfire.

Dancing with the devil.

But you are not Daniel Webster.

You know who you are and someday you will be revealed but not just to the masses. But to yourself. Till then she will hide the tears and happiness of what you have given and left her with behind her eyes.

From the Front Lines..

The flame ignites just as fast as it burns out with her. Haunting images of that photo book still sit in a locked box. Why she holds on is even a mystery to herself. At this point she is too tired for hate but too awake to give in. The noose is tied tight and she is bound but not gagged. She still has a voice and sight. You play hair dresser with her. Massage her brain enough to relax as she almost slips through the cracks. Let go of the entity that does not exist. Nothing can ever be so secure. Her life has been a test of wills. Its amazing how high she holds her head up. Shattered walls and it is you that keeps her from crossing the paths with another without thinking of you. She extends the branch but you take the whole tree and suck the sap from its limbs till it withers away but with one bright leaf shining. The flame that is her existence refuses to burn out. Even if it turns just to a gas you are there to ignite the flame. Why?

Sleepers. You don't invade her cycle anymore so maybe your hold on her isn't as strong anymore. Are you listening? If you were face to face I don't think she would run but would she coward herself to silence? Runs red flows eastward down a cavern pit made for one. At least it once was. Dreams vast beyond a Freudian slip. Sneak attack and struggle is now lost. What once was can not be forgotten.

Dispute.

Dissipate..

Deliverance...

The relentless cycle repeats. You turn up out of nowhere. Like a mole in a hole. Cute from a distance by rabid at chose touch. Never in her vicinity. Does he speak the truth?

Destroyed.

Despair.

Infrared.

Her retina burns but her sight just won't relinquish itself. She looks away for now but his web will tangle her until she is caught and can't move. Does a lost shoe make a noise once it hits the ground running? I have been thinking about.....

Code Orange.

The ghost has returned. The ship has surfaced and only one body is left to identify. Somewhere in the dreams. Living for keeps. He keeps her soul. Knowing he drives her senses and somewhat her being. He resurfaces through a picture. A friendly jester. He plays his game tactfully. She waits. Anticipating. Closed mouth. Loss of breath. Desperation. Will he arrive? The day remains calm and beautiful. A mid October day. The sun touches her skin as the light dances off her tan skin. She stands. Waits. The people are circling around her in a fast forward mode but she still stands, realizing its not a movie. She's drawing flies at this point.

The chill has entered the air. It may have been a spring day but the fall night reaches into her skin and hits her bones. The night has become her enemy. She reaches a dark place and every night she drags herself out of the mind shaft she jumps into. He always goes when the wind blows.

You're a terrible combination.

She will reveal herself one day. And the mystery of what she writes. She reverts back to her childhood. The day her new dolly arrives. Such a pretty doll with long pretty blonde hair. A disturbed and lonely kid worrying about the wrongs things at such an early age. She always started with the hair. Cutting strand by strand. Like a knife through her heart you ride the crimson wave of her arteries and you knocked down her valves.

Heart Attack! Contraction!

Cornered by her own thoughts.

She folded. She wonders if you are even real and why you consume her thoughts.

Feeding off her life a tick. His head grows bigger and bigger. She is infected and it will pain her to the bone. She feels like the scab will never heal. Maybe if he let go she could turn the page but till then he will bounced from paper to her screen and through her heart. How does one fend off such a strong power surge when the lights have been turned off.

Electric shock. Break her fall.

A hazardous materials incident has occured. Magnitude unknown. Ticking Clock. Stealing time.

Good Bye.....

Turn Of The Key.

Her insides are screeching and crying. He holds the key to her heart and she won't let anyone else in till she receives her keys back. This can't be too healthy for her. Can't he see he's her delight. Her outsides try and shine but somehow she can't hold up her head anymore and the tears must come out somehow. The rain isn't helping her cause. Its like someone or more then someone above knows she needs to get it out. She has tormented others while her key is m.i.a. As she confesses to him how she feels, she wonders what the response will be. If any. She is scared of sooo much but for some reason not of him. She let him in and no one else after that. She still waits on a response. She fears in her heart that talking has subsided for the evening or for a while after this evening. It has always been him but he turns the radio off when she lets out her faithful song that turns to cry when she is in the shadows of her room.

So the silence begins. As she suspected. How do you forget someone who has penetrated your forcefield? That makes you weak in the knees? That has made the days he spent with her the best she's had in a while? The funniest days she's needed? That are all gone. Trying to reclaim what is left of herself. It hurts her and maybe he will never understand that.

He abides by one and that is himself.

Now she must do what she needs to do because maybe she wasn't the one and just walked in the room at the right time when he needed someone there. And maybe there is already someone there in his head that has pushed her out of the way but why will he not let her know.

Trap set.

And the mouse has been caught.

You blow her mind.

But she could never let him know that.

He just isn't ready..........

She signs off from here...

Off to break hearts and ruin lives..

Such a shame that others have to pay for his mistakes..