A pain no one

Understands

Like an itch

You can’t scratch

A problem no one

Wants to face

Yet I must deal with it

On a day to day

Minute by minute

Unrelenting basis

It’s my own fault

Good decision

Bad decision

That’s inconsequential

As the years pile on

The self inflicted

Soul crushing pain

Only I can feel

I have become

Devoid of hope

One would think

There is no

Foreseeable solution

Other than escape

But I’m no coward

And as Camus said

“…in the end

one needs more courage

to live than to

kill himself.”

Within the lucidity

Of my existence

The only logical choice

In an absurd life

Is to suffer

The consequences

Of my choices

I breathe in your name

and exhale the memories

The silence tastes like metal

It‘s a harder pill to swallow

than the iron supplements that

make me choke up

Now I just choke up at the thought

of what we could have been

of what I need you to be

of what I could no longer be

I wonder if you hear the moon

screaming your name at night

begging you to hold me tight

Two years

It's been two years

and you still don't use my name

Two years

It's been two years

and you still call me a girl to my face

Two years

It's been two years

and you still think its a fucking choice

Two years

It's been two years

and I still don't have a voice

Finally, I write.

I’ve been avoiding you

for so long—Afraid

I will let my emotions fall

Like Ash in the wind

White burn with charred hope

Wound so tight, and twisting

In my gut —my pain cries

And I long for you.

My own blood fresh drawn

On paper, and ink

But this is how it ends.

Speechless, and homeless

And who am I but not

A poet—Sad, sad, and

Long gone before —

I took my first breath.

Let me say this one thing

you didn’t say it back

I think you know what I mean

you raced through the streets

All for a spot beneath the bridge

Back seat candlelight moment

Our lips when they met

made me forget about fear

made me believe in impossibility

oh, to hold your face in my hands

I wanted to mend all that’s

broken in you

To hold your hand and kiss

you again

and listen to Blink 182

in the backseat of your car

kicked off my shoes

only to lose myself

in your arms

Goodbye my

twin flame

may we meet

again

Marcella

November 20, 2024

Marcella entered the infamous Spintria in search of employment.

She wasn’t male and she had other wares to offer.

Part of that was a lie. Marcella already was gainfully employed. She was in the Spintria in search of the men she did not want to be in search of her. For this mission, she dyed her hair blonde, as per the Roman custom for all prostitutes. Combined with her young age and pleasing looks, she easily made it to those that screened potential candidates.

The four of them demanded an audition.

Lying (again), Marcella eagerly agreed.

The first was overly excited and (definitely) overweight. He knew his limitations. She knew them also. The two engaged the viewing pleasure of the other three for no more than a few minutes before he surrendered. Marcella permitted his graceful exit before turning her attention to the other three.

They would not be as passive as their predecessor. They wanted far more. By the look of Marcella, she understood and actually encouraged their aggressiveness.

That is, until she grasped both of her knives.

Within seconds, two were bleeding as all thieves should. The third, merely stung by her blade, begged forgiveness, kneeling before her, hoping she would understand.

What Marcella understood was the value of completing the contract and collecting any bonus money for doing so quickly. The third saw her determination in her now vacant black eyes.

It was the last thing he ever saw.

The space was now eerily quiet. Small drops of water, condensing on the arches, slowly trickled to lower levels, pooling. With each drop, Marcella could hear the micro echoes reverberate along the length of this chamber and its catacomb entrance.

It was along this entrance the first man, the overweight man returned. This time, bearing a small satchel. When he threw it to Marcella, it hit the stone floor, revealing the sound of the gold coins contained within. A man of many words, he did not keep Marcella longer than necessary.

Marcella took her cloth to wipe her blades before sheathing them. She pointed one at the gold chain he wore. It was to be her tribute for both not taxing his poorly maintained body and dispatching his three previous partners to the afterlife they so richly deserved. He would pay his taxes to Caligula, but not to Caligula and three additional parasites.

Despite the blood and her payment, today was worth the money.

Definitely worth the money.

The self proclaimed elites

Laugh at us

And our petty ways

Ego and greed

Rule our minds

And we consistently engage

In ritualized homicide

Referring to ourselves

As conquerors of men

Professing our fealty

To murder incorporated

War drums beat

With the drips of bloodshed

Savagery increases

Humanity fades

Atrocities proliferate

Innocence is obliterated

The breaking point

Has been achieved

Our descent into madness

Is now complete

I live a normal life

Day to day I go

Just going with the flow

Because I'm not trying to be the glow

But still you catches up to me

Please just let me be

These feelings are not freeing at all

Quite the opposite indeed

Around every corner I turn

There you're lurking

It's almost like you burns

This is a very big concern

You are like this giant shadow

Clearly having an ego

And I'm not planning to say hello

Thankfully you seem to move slow

I'm not sure how to get rid of you

Your dark hue

Gives me the blues

Is any of this even true?

Please leave me alone

And stay to your own

I wish you were unknown

Just please leave me alone

What She is Willing to Reveal

November 19, 2024

I may not view her face

Nor any of the faces it can make

I shall never see her smile

Never see her weep

No consternation

No elation or pride

I am never to see her draw a breath

Watching the extent in which she can

Matching the circumstance

With the expanse

Or the length in which she may hold

This singular genesis in which she responds

I am never to observe the factors

In which her life spirals to ruin

Or the fortitude

She presents to minimize the damage

To this, I am forbidden entry

Because of this, I am forbidden to help

I am permitted to ogle that side

She expects me to find attractive

She knows I have lust coursing

In my veins for her

What she doesn’t know

Is that lust rarely travels alone along that venue

Since it is her way

Or the highway

I accept my limitations

Privately hoping

She will pivot on both

Restrictions and geometry

Most of your life

you were a prisoner

of your own body

Looking up the dark

rough edges of life

weren’t new to you

You trained hard

a kickboxer

a body builder

You got a body

of fights and conflicts

you got prisoned…

Steroids, police visits

were a daily routine

you were a tough boy

You got a body

of fights and conflicts

you got prisoned…

In the empty prison

of your own mind

you decided to be free

But your body striked again

four unimaginable times

being caught in brain infarctions

You got a body

of fights and conflicts

you got prisoned…

Once you really were

getting in prison

you looked up

Looking up the light

loving eternity of life

was new to you

You got a body

of caring and freeness

you got unprisoned

You got finally free

free of your own body

free of your own… mind.

©® SunRise - 11/19/2024 All rights reserved