You know what?

Stop telling me

That I think I'm perfect and that

I think I've never made a mistake.

You don't even know HALF the shit that goes on through my head

Let alone how many things I regret.

The only

thing

that’s

not a

drug

is

Nothing.

you said you'd be here

through the thick and the thin

but the thin hasn't even begun and you're gone with the wind

that's alright.

i've made it without you before

so don't think i can't do that now

don't get me wrong i'd love it if you stayed

i just don't want you to think you've crippled me beyond the point of coming back

no, i never left.

you're the one who did that.

i'll be waiting for your return.

if you come, great.

if you don't, even better.

i don't need you and don't you even for a second think i do.

You may have me wrapped around your shitty little finger right now

But, hear me out, the second you screw my over and you pass the point of no return,

There won't be any coming back for you to do.

You've toyed with my emotions in the past and I have no doubt you'll do it again

Just beware of the fact I know how to care for myself now and I know how to stay happy and I'll be damned if you come between that

So tread lightly, like you're walking on eggshells through a fucking temple

'Cause you'll be gone soon,

Trust me.

I’m an asshole

who knows

he’s an

asshole.

What kind

of asshole

are you?

They loved each other

so much that if

she was in pain,

he would take her

pain onto himself,

then she would

take his pain

onto herself

simply because

the idea of the

other one hurting

hurt them more

than any physical

pain ever could.

Blood fire and gold

sunsets on vast horizons

that don't fade and don't

shrink with dwindling

opportunity

immortality of thought

of creation without need

of reason

eternally conceiving the

fresh the new and the

relatable

insatiable craving to grow

never slow in groping for

the next thing

improving

chest heaving

aching

panting as legs churn

and muscles burn their

way into the beyond

no bond to tether

no leash to break

no smile to fake and no

thing at stake but

complacency hot on the

heels of shrieking nascency

a vow to be sustained

on the rich but fickle fuel

of creativity

That tongue is a loaded gun.

Point and fire away.

Take aim and let the flame of

what you have to say make them

pay.

Let its heat radiate with the power,

let it shower down in diatribes to be idolized,

soliloquize until you’ve civilized the madmen

raving in the street.

Defeat? You ain’t beat

until they’ve knitted your lips shut with

barbed wire.

Till they’ve broken every little finger

so you can’t take up a pen.

And then?

You still have your feet.

The Tower of Babble was a catalyst.

It was the wakening of every activist with a sign

and a grudge,

every antagonist with slander and a bottle of poison.

We didn’t reach heaven with bricks.

We didn’t cross Styx with a bridge.

We made angels tremble with our clamor.

We wove a glamor to enamor Narcissus through

our lips.

From our mouths drips a venom that makes

snakes quake,

we raise bedlam that breaks foundations of

nations and echoes throughout generations.

We conceived Salem by hissing through our

teeth.

This is a sword you can’t sheath.

They writhe underneath every half-assed

grave,

craved by the cowardly and taken up

by the brave.

They’ve been the liberators of slaves and

the tools of the depraved,

they’ve been the thing by which we are saved

and the roller that paves over our

fallen State.

Don’t hesitate.

Emulate the voices of the dead which you

admire,

Emanate this force until you are a spire,

climb higher,

never tire,

let it course through your veins and release

the reins and strain against every effort

to bring you back down again.

You’ve got words, baby.

When the world tries to bring you to your knees?

Say,

bitch, please.

Did ignorance burn the streets of Baltimore? Hatred?

Perhaps something darker. I speak of the stubborn self-deception that has rioted inside man since his self-discovery.

The enemy, that arch-fiend who has bided since the beginning. I do not speak religiously here, metaphorically rather...

Inauthenticity, self-deception -- call it what you will. There is no cure for the purest type of darkness, the black hole that sucks your loved ones and leaders into evil.

Sometimes I fear that even smiles and gestures of love have fallen to evil purpose.

Emily Dickinson loved man in his throes because there he speaks without deceit.

What do we do?

CNN quoted Leonard Bernstein and it resonated with me: "This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before."

The battle is all around us. It rages inside you right now. Sing a song, dance, cry, or lament..

Do not fall to the enemy. Stand strong in your devotion.