Every ending has a new beginning.

Well, I ended him all right. He shouldn’t have done it but he did. So I did – end him I mean.

I carefully stirred antifreeze into one of two glasses and handed the spiked tea to him as I smiled and kissed him. He never realized that It was a goodbye kiss as he contemplated leading me to the bedroom. II enjoyed it thoroughly as I watched him swig his tea with its lovely dose of antifreeze. It was no secret to me that he was both a cheater and a liar but I really did not care anymore because I knew I was about to have a new beginning.

If only I had realized that the outcome of my new beginning might not be a good one! As I walked away from his very stiff body, I decided to take a swig of the other tea which I had not spiked. Unfortunately, he had surreptitiously spiked my tea when I went to wash my hands. Not only was he a cheater and a liar but I found out the hard way that he was also was a murderer. In retrospect, my ending wasn’t that bad as I floated off into oblivion, hoping for a new beginning.

When I finished traveling to my new beginning, to my horror, there he was with a malevolent smirk on his face!

PTSD

The first time someone said it to me, I couldn't comprehend why they had. I was no soldier. I had not seen battle.

It was a haze, a fuzzy memory. At least that's what I said. I lied, I could remember every single detail. How I felt. How I cried while I stared in the mirror. How the stench of his cologne smelled. How I gagged when I smelt it on him the next day and the day after that and for four years after.

How did I live with it? They had asked me this question more than once. Knowing what he did to me. Seeing him everyday. Subjecting myself to his treachery and keeping quiet.

How did this happen? I am still lost to this day. How did I keep quiet? How had I not realized what I was? A victim of sexual assault. But I didn't want to hear it, I don't want to hear it. I want to forget these moments and be okay. I know one day I will.

Am I a soldier? I trudged through this battle. I have seen horrific things. I have fought hard against myself, others, and him. I have muddled my way through. I have come out the other end stronger. I have a couple of wounds. Maybe some that won't ever heal, but I survived. I am here. I am here.

Eager to please.

So eager to promise.

A damsel in distress.

A daughter at her fondest.

Moonlight at her fingers.

Illumination at her knees.

Any picture without portrayal.

Could never define such unease.

High price for every measure.

A kiss for every lesson learned.

Soon you'll find the ease in comfort.

Is just consequence from being burned.

From written logic that can't be defined.

The ease of pleasure, such a sin

So well disguised in perfect sonnet.

Such regret could never win.

With underlying proposition.

Comes the fall to never come.

Take your time on each alibi.

But prepare for urgency to run.

The sanctity of such moment.

And the bitter sweet of being alone.

No cure to heal the solitude.

Just a map to lead you back home.

Back home.

1st band cause havoc and mayhem wherever they are. They only want to see the world in complete darkness-with no promise of any chance of light or hope. They follow one of the other spirits who had become jealous of their Creator. He was second in command but that only made him proud. His followers followed suit, and the moment they tried to eliminate their Creator, and those who were against him-they were cast out of the heavenly spiritual land..

2nd group are full of light, honor, love, and are always willing to help. Benevolent guardians who had been rewarded with wings like birds of prey. With bodies radiant like beams of light from the Sun..Another thing they do is fight off malevolent spirits, and keep them from winning the infinite on-going battle.

Some Stories must be Told

& this is one such Tale.

Of grandfather the Wulf

&

The Garden of Eden,

Breeding pen,

That it was.

Bred for what Though,

Slaves to Mine

&

Rape the Earth,

our Mother.

Are we not Her children,

Does not Intellect alone,

Separate us

From our

Brethren

the Beast.

The Titans told it True,

For we were Bred

& Domesticated,

not to have

any Natural

Means of Defense,

but our Mind,

again

Why.

To Covet

First the Apple

& then

thy Brothers',

For then

& only then,

did They know,

We were ready

To be

set Loose

upon

the World?

Darwin Traced it True,

Water

the Origin of our Species.

For Silver

& Gold

do not Tarnish,

Lovely are they to Behold.

The Brothers Cain

& Abel,

For Thought/After Thought,

the Parody still Humors me.

We had to Shed our Skin/our Defenses,

The Snake you Say.

For what Differentiates

Us

From our Brothers the Beasts,

the Ability to convey Thoughts

& Actions,

the Word.

Do we not Domesticate Livestock?

Institute Breeding Programs,

Do we not School Beasts.

To do

What we cannot

Or do not

Wish to do.

Could we,

Not be

Set upon

the Same Tasks?

Do all the Old Stories tell the Same Tale?

What a Story that would be?

Would it Tell of our Origins

& our Rise?

Would it tell us Why,

the Same Motifs,

Echo Down the Halls of Time.

Would we

Even now

In this Day

& Age

Accept the Lessons

That they Teach,

Parables,

Metaphors?

What is the Underlining Message,

what Vein Runs True?

The Tale

I am about to Unfold,

May be True.

I will let you,

Judge for yourself.

How much Whim,

How much Fancy.

It Begins with the Dark

& Loneliness of Space,

so Like the Depths

Of our Great Oceans.

An Irony

That I Hope

Is not Lost on you.

Depths we have Barely Scratched,

Why I ask is it So.

It Begins with Slavery

& the Dissatisfaction

That it Brings.

It Begins with Those

That First Taught us

the Taste of the Bit,

to Yoke the Beast

& Later thy Brother.

We all Know,

Man was Created,

but for What,

A Reflection of Who.

Shall I Tell you,

Will These Words

Ever be Seen by Another?

Will They be Considered

the Drug Induced

Ravings of Madness?

For I have Known

the Taste of the Needle.

The Siren Song

of Lies she Sings,

Only for you

If you have Enough.

Twirling upon the Edge,

Dancing the Dream,

as you

Dig It in.

I only Know.

I must Commit this to Paper.

In Hopes

That a more Enlightened Mind

than Mine

Can Fathom the Possibilities.

For it is suicide to conform my creative mind

To wrap this rope around my neck

To let these words choke me to my death

And leaving not a trace of my soul left

To walk away to leave this place with not a trace

Of me but a silhouette that lurks the walls like a shadow

This endless battle of life coming to an end because my daily strife

To deal with what I know is right versus what is wrong

These thoughts clouding up and banging against

My brain wall sounding like a gong

Shaking me to my feet

Bringing the world to a feat

Only to bring their smiles to a defeat

Battered and tattered body filled with pain

What did you attain?

Your brain cacked in mess

Maybe this is the devil test

And god playing along and giving you stress

Implanting this seed of distress in your breast

Testing you if you will let him take care of rest

And lay you to rest

And let you sleep in peace

Because you confess

That this world is to hard to deal with

So it best to accept my arrest

And chain a rope around

My neck

Or shoot me in chest

So I can forever lock my thoughts

In a chest

So I don´t have to keep playing chess

With life and death

And so today I take by last breath

And adorn death around my neck like a wreath

And hold fate in a heath and let it sink in

Because tonight suicide wins ………...

god damn it I need you here so you can hold my broken pieces together because without you I am nothing but a broken vase.

There is so much hate and anger in the world today. I saw this photo on Facebook and it really got me thinking. The basis of the photo was "kindness". Be kind, smile at a passing stranger, help an elderly person, compliment someone. There are countless movements and protests about, race, Gender equality, gay rights controversy. Those are all okay when you have somthing you strongly believe in and want to stand up for it, unless you go out of your way to physically harm or verbally bash another human being, which is what often happens. How about we start a kindness movement, we all know that is what this world really needs now. We have so much hate and violence in the world today. We think it's okay to hurt people because of our beliefs. How about we just start valuing everyone. Value their opinions, their rights, there appearances. We are all human and we all deserve the same courtesy of someone being a decent human being to us. So just start small everyday. Say hi to a stranger in the store and greet them with a warm smile. Compliment someone on their hair or their outfit, or a tattoo or piercing, because we all know how much Hate alternative people get for being "too different". Just start accepting people the way you would want to be accepted. We are all humans and we all deserve at least some amount of kindness no matter who we are.

I took a long drawn out drag of a cigarette and with it, I thought of every fiber in my lungs gasping for oxygen. Why do we do this to ourselves? Rip away oxygen for a quick feel good feeling? Literally omitting life with each breath?

Why the hell not? What a fucking circus. 

We are victims in the beginning. A literal crap shoot of whether or not we are born in a Country with famine and war. Why did there even have to be Country's in the first place? A toss up between a beloved mother or an asshole father and vise versa. Or, parents at all, let us not forger the babes we throw to the side. I find I personally love those ones the most. 

If you're one of the lucky ones to skip past oppression and all the ugly things we choose not to see. Then God bless. 

Oh but wait your turn. We all bend over once or twice, and pay for our time here generously. Perhaps you've tasted the love we all chase after? You drank it's sweet nectar to only realize it was just one more rape from life? It wasn't love was it? 

You're goddam right it was. But we manage to throw it all to shit because we are all out for ourselves. Every single person is born to think instinctively about their own well being. 

Until, love.

We soar so high in the first baths of that sweet euphoria. We say things to each other that we choke on in looking back. Get tainted enough in love's muck and we can't even recognize the person we once were. Why does this have to happen? Because things fade and we give it up so easily because what once was an easy labor is now a quicksand of unsaid thoughts and meddling idle minds. We are our own downfall. When the beginning excitement is gone, we ask why, instead of dying to our selves and seeing the person in all their good ways. We end up getting so far gone, it almost feels best to let it go completely rather than put forth the labor and ache it would take to restore. Oh the heartbreak to witness it, where once unity, now worlds and empty spaces filled with imagination of greener pastures that only exist in quiet imagination.

So we have been reduced to the little vices like a wonderful drag of a deadly cigarette to seem a lot like something familiar, and we keep puffing in hopes it fixes the pain. 

Or ends it altogether.  

Perhaps only to just pass the time until we figure out anything that seems to make any sense at all.

a.b.Carleton

I see my psychiatrist this afternoon. I get edgy and paranoid leading up to these appointments, which I think is part of the reason I'm going. My stomach starts to knot and sicken with the anxiety that one of the meds is supposed to ease? I find myself spewing shit I swore I would take to my grave, but keep supressing the violent and disturbing impulses playing out in my mind like film snippets that would disgust Rob Zombie. I wonder what the detainment processs would look like if I "shared" too much.

Keep it cool, boy.

I have cancelled much too often, for these reasons and more, but today I deserve the cess pool of shame and guilt that I will undoubtedly wade, no, dive into. Maybe I'll ask the questions; "So, how are you feeling?" "What's been going on since our last meeting?" "Have you noticed any improvement with the new meds?"

Boy?

Or maybe I'll just sit there, slouched and pouty, like a petulant child and say, "idunno" to everything. You're only as healthy as your darkest secret. I guess that would make me...well, never mind.

Keep it cool...

The stigma attached to mental health issues, problems, concerns, diagnoses, whatever - is now in flux. My dad's generation didn't have these issues; they just blew their brains out when shit got heavy, and mommy just slept all day. Now that lone gunmen prowl the streets, churches, and airports, more attention is being paid to who "knew what and when and could something have been done to stop it," as Lester Holt so frequently asks. Fuck yeah, somebody knew something - they always do. Fuck yeah, somebody could have done something to stop it - they never do.

Easy, boy...

I've always believed that vomitting the bile is a release of the poisons infecting us (me). I also believe that when someone else can help carry your (my) shit, even for just an hour, it's easier to soldier on. I will keep this appointment because the demons want to prowl. And regardless of my pompous posturing, I'm bound to spill and spew, but I'm afraid some of my secrets will remain just that ...mine.

Darkness.

That's what I see when I open my eyes again.

But wait!

This isn't her house - the girl with the big eyes and freckles

I see other books, many others

A bookstore

A used bookstore

I immediately become self-conscious

I am a well-thumbed book

I have been read many times over

I'd even go as far as to say many people know my name

"Who are you?"

A book asks me

He looks brand new - what is he doing here?

I look at him and I immediately see what the problem is

My front cover is missing

As is my copyright page

There is no way that they'd know me

The 'used' book is still expecting an answer

I tell him that I need to go somewhere

Before too long, the owner begins to move me

I stare at the 'used' book until I remember his name

City of Ashes

My eyes are covered -

Unintentionally, I think -

And I experience a brief feeling of weightlessness

Opening my eyes, I look around

My new home is... a dumpster

Am I truly in such bad shape

That I should need to be thrown away

From a used bookstore?

I slowly begin to forget my name

But before long, someone comes along

And picks me up

"The Prisoner of Azkaban?"

They say, reading the top of one of my pages

And suddenly I remember who I am