On My Own

It's hard being alone, even when you tell yourself that you prefer it that way. There's still an empty hole where companionship should be, and when you have very little to hope for in the future it's even harder. I'm tired of being on my own, tired of having only scraps to hope for. It's not enough anymore. All my life I've been surrounded by people that have no concept of what it's really like to be abandoned, ignored by the people who should love you, and then on top of that to be cursed to choose to spend time with those that have only experienced the best of friends, model families. It's painful.

And now I find myself alone again...




Musical: Les Miserables
Song: On My Own

And now I'm all alone again,
Nowhere to turn, no one to go to.
Without a home, without a friend,
Without a face to say hello to.
And now the night is near,
Now I can make believe he's here.

Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping.
I think of him, and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping.
The city goes to bed,
And I can live inside my head.

On my own,
Pretending he's beside me.
All alone,
I walk with him till morning.
Without him,
I feel his arms around me,
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me.

In the rain,
The pavement shines like silver.
All the lights
Are misty in the river.
In the darkness,
The trees are full of starlight,
And all I see is him and me for ever and forever.

And I know
It's only in my mind,
That I'm talking to myself
And not to him.
And although I know that he is blind,
Still I say,
There's a way for us.

I love him,
But when the night is over,
He is gone,
The river's just a river.
Without him,
The world around me changes.
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers.

I love him,
But every day I'm learning,
All my life,
I've only been pretending!
Without me,
His world will go on turning,
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known!
I love him...
I love him...
I love him...
But only on my own...

What is Gone, is Gone

Going Out With a Bang

Life hurts, but there's a cure!
I have not tried any of these suicide methods so please do not hold me liable if they fail to work for you.

In a public place (to maximise the trauma of others). take a very sharp knife, place under your ribs on the left side. make a fast (or slow) diagonal slit in your abdomen from left rib to right hip bone. then start pulling out your soft warn insides and eating them.

Make your parents/roomate/spouse happy and try to clean the toilet REALLY WELL! Make sure you use both bleach (and make sure it's sodium hypochlorite bleach) *and* ammonia, and use plenty of both. Dive in and start scrubbing, and be sure to breathe deep!

Wear all black and roll around on your back in the middle of a busy intersection at the exact same time the local bars let out...I found that Friday or Saturday nights work best. Good luck!

Begin by taking a box of old, rusted fishhooks and eating them. After a while, gargle with rubbing alcohol, and run into a mall screaming anything. Then proceed to jump off the third-story into the foyer below. Try to either land on Santa's lap or on the line of people waiting for him. Happy Holidays!

The best way to kill yourself when you're a teen is to stand on top of a building hollering "I swear to god im gonna jump, don't nobody try to help me cause i'm jumping". then when you have a large crowd under you pull out a 12 gauge shotgun and blow your head off in front of the three hundred or so onlookers.

A running car in a closed garage should do the trick nice and painlessly. I've heard you just get really sleepy, pass out, and never wake up. Just make sure to do it when you know nobody will notice for many hours. You wouldn't want any ignorant do-gooders spoiling your plans.
PS: If you don't have a garage, you could obtain a piece of large diameter tubing and run it from the tailpipe, through the car window and just sit in it. Just be sure to pull around to the back of the house so nobody notices.

The Way of the Emo: Let yourself be consumed by the ever-blackening aura of civilization and society. You die from the inside out...

This one requires:
1 friend
1 motor vehicle
300 feet of chain or spun metal cable
2 heavy padlocks
One end of the chain/cable encircles your neck, the other goes around some sturdy part of the undercarriage of the auto. Locks are used to secure these. Best part: you stand there and do nothing. Brace yourself! Your assistant gets into the car and starts motor, applies pressure to accelerator while car is in drive or quickly shifts up in case transmission is automatic. When all the slack of the chain is finally taken up, said auto should be going at sufficient speed so that your head is simply ripped off. Recommended car: 1970's Dodge Charger with at least a 427 cubic inch V-8 and 400 horsepower.

Fall in love with somebody you cannot reach, and make sure that the best way to escape of all this hurt and suffering is to end your days right now.

Have one of your friends put a rat in a jar and put the open end of the jar up to your face. Then have them blow torch the other end. The rat will then eat its way through your face before it will let itself be roasted alive.

If you hear in the news that a bomb got inside a public building, go and volunteer yourself as fast as possible, and try to stop the bomb from blowing up. If you cut the right wires, you will be a hero. And if you cut the wrong ones, God heard your wish.

Fall backwards out of a tall tree. That way you see a pretty picture as you die.

Save a pint of blood every couple of days, then fill an Olympic size swimming pool, then drown yourself in it; you're sure to be remembered!

Light yourself on fire! People will talk about you for years to come; you'll gain the infamy in death that you couldn't get in life.

Slitting your wrist is a stupid and melodramatic way to die. What I'm about to do is take my short sword, place it over my heart, and fall on it. Very Roman, but effective.

Try holding your breath, long enough to end it all. Will power!

Get one of your friends to come over and play with your dad's guns. Don't tell him that the one he's using is loaded. Taunt him by pulling the trigger of the one you're using and yelling, "You're dead!" When he does shoot you, it will look like it wasn't your fault, so people will not feel as bad as they would if you'd hung yourself.

Why not put on a nice white summer dress with a nice white wide brimmed hat in July, then jump out in front of a speeding ice cream truck? Just think of the contrast of red blood on that white tattered dress! The bright blood of innocents and the innocence represented by the white of the dress so crudely torn and violated will make a bold statement. And do it in in front of people, that will make it extra tragic because you can scar them for life as well.

Carry on living: the surest way to die.

Try before you die: The drug Ketamine can be used to simulate a near death experience in all its earth-shattering majesty. There are plenty of references to be found online.

Lurker

you turn your back
it stares
fingering your veins
gnarling at your throat
clawing at your stomach

watching, always watching
waiting, ever waiting

so patient.

cross the street
it follows
plucking at your heart
skittering in your mind
gnawing on your ankles

look behind, look away
walk faster, climb higher
so frantic

still there.

watching, always watching
waiting, ever waiting

shut the door
close your mind, scream.

multiplication tables
fractions.

Bits of songs
nursery rhymes.

Ashes, ashes
the walls come down..

find a rope
cut the cord

watching, always watching
waiting, ever waiting

fast awake
don't watch back
only one way to look
one to see..

past.

eyes wide shut
closed with coins
sockets dim
memory forgotten.

but The Fear
moves on
lives.. on

in him
in her
in you
in us.

watching, always watching
finding,
always finding.

Scapegoat

I never leave first
everything leaves me

friendsfamilylovers

doors shutting
phones hanging

all lost into fate
into oblivion

I don’t choose
I never choose

It all just happens
I can’t run away

or even
look back,
anymore.

It hurts so much
when you act like

it’s all about me
me

when you say
my tears are
an inconvenience

getting in the way
of your sleep

the time with your family

your friends

I’m sorry
that even the hurt

cuts into
your schedule

It cuts me too

and the blood stains your shoes
so you push me away

"Stupid!"
you say

"Inconsiderate bitch",
you accuse

then go out
to buy your comic books

I don’t do it on purpose
I gasp;
I try
to swallow the torment in silence

I am not good at it yet

I still scream when broken glass
slices down my throat

Just
hold your ears
it will be over soon

When you return
there will be dinner

after,
I lie down for dessert.

Take your fill, my love...

I will make all the right sounds
until you walk away
again.

Adventures in the Kitchen: Thale Phat Kaphrao

Fancy words! Foreign words! In my kitchen again at last hehe. Now once and for all I'm starting to feel like I'm home, cooking the things I like and experimenting with new recipes. Near where I was staying in Virginia was a fantastic little Thai restaurant/delivery place called Burapa Thai. No Thai food I'd ever eaten tasted so phenominal. My favorite dish there was a dish called simply "Seafood Kaprow", a delicious stir-fry of mixed seafood, onions, and peppers. But it was so much more than that. After my first try I quickly learned to dump my rice into the spicy brown sauce and let it soak up the firey mix. I began to distinguish the subtle blend of exotic spices therein and relish every bite. And every bite was an adventure in itself, for the shrimp & scallops were tender, the onions and bell peppers crisp, the mussels soft and tangy, and the scallops...well, they just melted in my mouth like hot, creamy pieces of heaven.

Yep, I was a goner.

When I got back to California (after eating 2 entire orders of Kaprow the night before) I made it my buisiness not just to find out where I could find another Thai place that served it, but also to find out how to make it. After much research, including questionings of some very amused Thai restaurateurs and cooks (Can we say language barrier?) I found out this much: "Kaprow" means basil, and not just any basil, but Holy Basil. Holy? Hrm. Apparently Holy basil (Ocimum Sanctum), like the sweet basil used in cooking, comes from India where it is revered as a sacred herb. The Egyptians burned a mixture of basil and myrrh to appease their gods. Sweet Basil (Ocimum basilicum) was introduced in Europe years later as a seasoning for food. It also has a lot of medicinal properties. I guess that's why the Indians & Egyptians kept it in their lands, keeping the heretics away from their holiest herb....

The spelling of it gave me no end of trouble in finding recipes, because the name was always different! It is also spelled bai kaprao (bai graprow, bai ka phrao)....argh. In any case, I tracked down several and looked at the ingredient breakdown. Some recipes called for chicken, some beef, oddly none with seafood. I discovered what those indistinguishablely savory seasonings were at this point. Of course I could taste and see the garlic, and I knew the 'secret' ingredient was Holy Basil (how the devil was I gonna make basil holy, have it blessed?), but what made the sauce brown...
Fish Oil! And Oyster Sauce! Errrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmm.

Those of you that know me will know that I was undaunted. I contrived a recipe and went off to the local asian market, which is inanely called 99 Ranch Market. Bought me some loverly fresh mixed seafood, which I found conveniently packaged together and ready to go; some nam man hoi (oyster sauce), and phrik ki nu (Thai chiles, another discovery). They didn't have the special basil, but they had normal basil far cheaper than I could have got it in a domestic store, and as I couldn't find a monk I was prepared to make my apologies to Buddha for not having the Holiness in my squid. Oddly enough, I'd found some nam bplah (fish sauce) in my pantry a day or so before. Where did it come from? The world may never know.

Lo, I had my stuffs. I was gonna cook that night! Never mind Jeff giving me the Hairy Eyeball at the telltale tenticles in my shopping cart. Brace yourselves, recipe incoming...

After a word of advice. You make a dish like this, you make it in a wok. Why? Buddha like. ^_~
Seriously though. High heat is integral to these kinds of dishes, it preserves the textures and seasonings up unto the moment you slide the meal onto your plate. If you don't HAVE a wok (some sad, misguided people do not) use a...big pan, I guess. Know that I will be weeping for you over here in Sherman Oaks however...

Anyway, there's a great guide on how to wok here.

ON WITH THE SHOW (ZOMG!!!!)

My Seafood Kaprow
or

Thale Phat Kaphrao

(Seafood (thale) stir-fried (phat) with bai kaphroa (Thai basil), phrik ki nu (Thai chiles), and nam man hoi (oyster sauce)

Recipe By :Danica Paz
Serving Size : 2

1 pound seafood -- fresh
3 tablespoons peanut oil
3 garlic cloves -- chopped
1/2 red bell pepper -- chopped (can also mix with green peppers)
1/2 white onion -- chopped
2 scallions -- chopped, separate white from green, chop green part into 1" pieces.
3 Thai chilies -- (2-4) sliced into very thin rings
2 tablespoons oyster sauce
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/4 cup chicken stock -- optional
1 cup Thai holy basil -- washed, dried, and stemmed

Heat wok. Swirl in the oil and heat to almost smoking.

Add garlic. Whisk about for a brief minute. Add bell pepper, onions, white parts of scallions, and chilies. Cook for 10 seconds.

Add seafood and stirfry until shrimp turns pink, about a minute.

Add sauces, sugar, pepper, stock, and green part of scallions and bring mixture to a boil.

Stir in basil and cook for 20 seconds or until leaves are wilted. The dish is supposed to be soupy.

Deglaze wok and serve at once with rice or noodles.

NOTES : Thai chilies are smokin' hot, feel free to use 2 the first time you make this! I found 4 to be just heated enough for me.
Thai basil leaves are sometimes found in ethnic markets, you may substitute fresh basil leaves (I did)

I hope you like this recipe should you try it! If not, I hope this lil nugget of my life proves to be half as fun reading as I had writing it. ~smile~

Now, I am not done with my culinary adventures by far. Because there is always my friend Brian's favorite dish from Burapa Thai...

Mussamun Curry!

~waves fist in the air~ IT SHALL BE DONE!!!

Online Women

As I have been online since the birth of the internet and in communication with people from around the world nearly as long, I find myself thinking about my virtual journeys and the souls I met along the way. People have many opinions of online friends and those who maintain those friendships, ranging from "You can't know who or what they really are", to "It's the best way to see someone for who and what they really are". My personal opinion is that there is no real difference, but both the former and latter opinions are easier to maintain in function. A person that will only let you see the surface of what they are or show you a complete facade would most likely do the same in real life. As for personality types, those are a little harder to keep hidden. And oh my. Women have a reputation for being predominantly the worst personalities to meet in any online venue.

There are websites aimed towards women looking to get their breasts augmented, one is a sort of MySpace with boobs. Stop laughing, I'm serious. A woman can create a profile and make 'friends', all male, who are enabled to make donations to The Cause. Emails, voicemail, telephone numbers, webcams, you name it...all available for a price. Further degradation is flaunted by the dollar amounts plastered on their personal pages of how much they've raised so far. The sad bit is that these sites cater to the rather ditzy type of female, who doesn't think to look at the small print where it more than likely states that they get NONE of the money if you don't meet the target goal (usually $5,000-$8,000) Incidentally, the site operaters do anything they can to keep the women from meeting that goal if they get close. Your page is not working for some reason, suddenly, or your password comes up invalid for a month. How do I know this? Well, people do complain to the BBB (Better Business Bureau), even ditzes. The point I'm making in a roundabout way however is that women are encouraged to use the web to fulfill a man's fantasies. Some fall into it somewhat unwillingly, some flaunt their 'empowerment' at being able to lead men on, and still more find it to be their true calling.

The above is a somewhate extreme example of what women are capable of doing to men online; bilking them of their hardearned money for a boob job they most likely will never attain. In a sense, working as prostitutes for faceless pimps that dole out money very rarely and extremely unwillingly. The men don't ask questions, It's just a glorified 900-number to them.

Going on to other venues, lets take online gaming into account, specifically MMORPGs (Massively Multiuser Online Role Playing Games). This is where all personality types, whether real or contrived flourish. One can find a ranging from Princess to Prostitute quite easily, and most often when one least expects it...

The Princess
This individual will give the impression that they are capable, then as the male player/s get to know them they find out that this female is forever getting themselves into situations where they need rescuing. They will get themselves to an area where they have tasks to complete, then wail that it's "So hard" to do alone, until some obliging man comes along offering to quest with her. There the effort ends. They expect the poor fellow to keep track of her completed tasks as will as his own, never let her die, and pass all the best loot to her. More likely than not she will have several men doing various tasks for her: one to quest with, one to carry her through dungeons, and several to craft items for her (no charge, of course). Why? Why, she is the damsel in distress, the one a man looks to for a smile or a grateful word, or more. She'll dole out the flattery in careful measure, true. And it means nothing to her. The man is just a pair of arms to use since she is just too lazy to get up from her jeweled pillow.

The Wringer
You know the type. Similar to The Princess, this one will be incapable of doing things for themselves. But instead of going the 'Damsel in Distress' route they predominantly function on pity. Virtually wringing their hands and bemoaning how they "can't find" this, or "can't do" that, they really need help and they know it. Less men fall for this type on the getgo than Princess, since this one really is an imcompetant bordering on idiocy. Unable to comprehend clues, instructions, or tactics, this woman will flail around in abject misery until some gallant male lifts her onto his horse and proceeds to do everything for her. You've seen the type often without knowing it until you have the misfortune of grouping with them. She is the one that is exalted most if not every faction, has excellent gear and an epic mount...and no clue how to play her class. She will frequently put her gallant on follow and go afk, she will stand there doing nothing during boss fights. Sound familiar? When the first male begins to tire of her, she'll post coy pictures of herself somewhere and lament how fat she is. Incompetance is swiftly forgiven and more men jump on her bandwagon, assuring her of her desireablity and denying the multitude of other self-depreciating things she will spout. It's very few men that allow this barnacle to get under their skin, since she is very draining and hard to maintain, but it doesn't matter since there are always more men to attach herself to.

The Farmwife
I find this type a little disturbing, since as the name denotes, they are someone's wife, girlfriend, fiancée. At first, they set off an aura of comfort. A pleasant person to game with, moderately competant but no expert. Sometimes they step afk (Away from Keyboard) to settle down their children or say hello to their significant other. When this comfort zone is established with a male gamer (usually at least 7 years younger than she is), she will start to 'open up' to the male during play hours and encourage him to do the same. Eventually a Myspace/Friendster bond is formed, where small favors are asked and friendly comments exchanged while offline. Instant Messaging might or might not take place here. The danger doesn't really become apparant, even when she starts complaining to the male about her life in general, eventually circling around to how dull she finds her sig. other, how he doesn't understand her, etc. etc. Secretly she'll thrive on the attention the male gives her, gloating if she manages to wheedle any complaints from him about HIS significant other, if he has one. Real email addresses are exchanged in this stage, as the male 'realizes' that this poor woman might need comforting, and since *cough* HE is the "only one" she can talk to...you get the picture. At some point here she will hit him with the inevitable "Ah, I wish I'd met you before him.." Hook, line, and sinker. She'll put him in difficult situations where he might feel he has to hide their relationship from any romantic relationship he might have been cultivating prior, and although she will pretend to be encouraging in reality she wants to come first. Greedier and greedier, she'll constantly pepper him with ingame whispers, and it's all over if she gets his phone number. This kind of women is disgusting to me, as she has no intention of changing her lifestyle for the male in question, but has done everything in her power to change his. In truth, she gives nothing in return for everything.

The Hag
Another disturbing one. Seeking out males at least 15 years younger than themselves, they model themselves after the Farmwife, with a twist. They start from the beginning hiding their age, vaguely alluding to middle years and establishing a comfort zone early on. Bored & married or even widowed, with several children nearly as old as the males they latch themselves to...I can only feel pity for them. Trying to meet the rigors of a gameworld they often have no comprehension of, they usually need help in everything. Males see no harm in helping out this motherly soul, who is just looking to fill thier lonely lives with some sort of entertainment, right? Ugh. These Baba Yagas are just looking to latch on to a young man who will revive their ancient feelings of desireablity and attractiveness. You will never see their picture online, and as for their age? Ha. I can guarantee they will always pick the 100 year mark on websites; they will only reveal that tidbit to the man once they are sure they're hooked good and tight. THAT particular conversation always ends up to be a psuedo-timid outpouring of how 'scared' they were of revealing the truth. Yes, these women have years of experience behind them, and maybe this may benefit the relationship in some ways...but when you look at it, all you really have in common is a world of pixels. The reality is lost in saggy flesh and all-too-soon arguments where the male is accused of...guess what? Being immature.

The Dragon (aka Red Sonja)
Full of fire and vim, The Dragon will have done most everything on her own, and take pride in it. She most likely will have quested more, made more gold, and ground out faction reputation largely on her own. She doesn't need anyone to tell her what to do and goes where she wishes. She asks for her own groups, works her own crafts, and stands up for herself if she gets in trouble. She may come off as having a huge ego, but really is just full of confidence in herself. Women like this tend to make men a little uncomfortable, but as she is a smart player and can be trusted to make good decisions they seek her out regardless. Also, she is no pansy and is prone to bouts of temper. This woman fights as hard as a man, if not harder, and shares a companionship with most of the people she comes across borne of nothing more than character progression. She may not open up to any man immediately, or share any of her horde...but a man that can accept her jarring independance may be in for the ride of his life. For she will keep him to her standards, and accept nothing short of excellence.

The Tart (aka The Prostitute)
Oozingly sweet and/or Seductive, the Tart will pander to a man's base inclinations, sex and the fulfillment of certain sexual desires. Lots of kisses, hugs, squeezings from this girl. She'll be very attractive and have her own site full of luscious snaps of her rolling around on the floor or getting drunk with her friends. Most often rather young and inclined to wear too-tight blouses in real life, her character will often emulate this by wearing the skimpiest outfit she can find and dancing in the middle of a common zone. What does she want? Help. And more help. "Take me here", "buy me that!", rewarded by whispered caresses and promises of more. Similar to the Wringer she will abscond with massive amounts of ingame goodies, but men never tire of her. They don't even care if she admits to being taken, she leads them to believe they are far better men. Always promising, delivering, and promising more. A fishook with neverending bait...but she's still a worm.

The Siren
Silent, even shy at first, doing her own thing, she asks for nothing. It's the males that come to her. She doesn't know why, but a few words out of her mouth keep them coming back for more. Ranging from average to good player, she will never be Great; but it doesn't matter to the men that keep her court. Like the Dragon, she does things on her own. Unlike the Dragon, she will prefer to do them socially. Laughing, talking, and simply playing is her forte, and no man can resist her, whether they prefer sparkling smiles of thanks or her sometimes crass wit. She is easy to talk to, only offering advice on occasion, never judgement. She may also be a private person to some degree, open in some ways but closed in others...which usually intrigues men more, though she might not know it. Most other women hate her, as they are aware that they are a minority in these online games and would rather the men pay attention to them on the mere basis that they are female. (or of course, one of the types listed here) Once again, it matters not if she is average looking or moderately attractive (rarely beautiful). She is sought out, and her login is filled with a smattering of welcoming tells and invites to 'go and do something'. She has fun, her online life is full of chuckles and friendly insults, and finds herself well-looked after although she doesn't need it. If she lets a man closer than usual, she has to be careful, because he will fall for her something fierce, whether she is looking for that sort of thing or not.

Well. This got a whole lot longer than intended *laughs*
But I have experienced and gotten to know a good deal of personalities over the years. It may seem that there are more negative female types than positive listed here...but in reality it suffices to say that there is someone out there for everyone. Maybe you wish to be The Princess' Knight, maybe you dream of an older, experienced women that needs your companionship. Maybe you are the Player that thrives on his sweet Tart. I'm not here to judge.

I will say I find online infidelity to be one of the lowest things one person can do to another. If you find yourself snagged on the branch of one who wishes your companionship above that of their professed loved one...run. Tear free, whatever the cost, run far, run hard.

And don't look back.

Bloodflower

n a forest, long ago, lay a briar patch in a wood. It spread as far as the eye could see, as well as an eye could see in such a dark, dank place. Nary a patch of light for many yards there was, yet in one, a single bud grew. It was orange at first, red at the tip. It had yet to open, as though waiting for something...or someone.

People now and then came to the woods, if they dared, to hunt at its edges, and one enterprising lad in the midst of chasing a deer came upon the flower, but he dared not come closer. The thorns looked too harsh and loomed closer than he cared to go. Yet, word spread of the lone flower, until a young prince came to hear of it, and, as princes tend to be was enamored with the idea of a flower presuming to take root in such a place.

He traveled with his entourage to the rim of the wood, and bravely ventured forth. Then...he saw it. And before his very eyes it bloomed in the thin beam of light that it had managed to thrive on. Glorious red, orange and yellow blossomed before his eyes in a symphony of colour he had never seen before...ending in a deep blue center, as the very heart of a flame. It was as though the flower, in a desperate attempt to catch his eye had spent its very last energy in the blooming.

He unsheathed his sword, which was magical of course, blessed by a holy man; and cut his way through the thicket for all his worth. Reaching out with a gloved hand he plucked that flower, lifting it to his lips for an almost reverent kiss.

Upon heading out of the woods he enjoyed the banter of his company, the courtiers gaily discussing what they would play at that evening. They headed together down the road towards the village, only stopping when the prince nonchalantly threw the bloom on the ground. The courtier directly behind him pulled his mount up short hurriedly. "My prince?!" The prince looked over at him and shrugged. "I was raised in the royal gardens of Shad'loc, where the sun favors the petals of every flower, and the nightingale's song never ends. Do you really think I could bring my mother that thing? I mean...it's petals were bent."

"Disgusting!", they chorused, and looked at him for approval.
He laughed gaily and whipped his fine white steed faster, making the court give a merry chase.



The End

The Loss.

Tell him how you feel

They proclaim.
So you unleash your mind
let loose your thoughts
undampen your dreams

And get slapped for your pains

Tell him how you feel

They advise.
you stagger back
open your eyes
say what you see

And get thrown down the stairs

Tell him how you feel

They admonish

you limp onward
unstitch your chest
unburden your heart

And get throttled by the neck

Squeezed,
mind running cold
blood coursing dry
heart pounding empty.

Fool.
You gave up everything...

Your mind is a void.
You see nothing now.
Your heart a dying ember.

You let the one you love tell you
that you're full of crap
that you are a joke
and watch them laugh at your pain.

They say you deserve it.

You slit your own throat.
You denied your own heart.
You killed your own dreams.

What was it all for?
You wonder.

You tried to accept thier friends
Who mocked you.
Whispering behind your back
You never knew he betrayed you.

You tried to oblige in his bed
he took his mind elsewhere
whispering in his thoughts
other women, other times.

You tried to be his family
he already had one
committing to them
what he never would you.

You lose,

They murmer.

You die,

They laugh.

No silence
No solace.

Only the eternal knowledge
that you wasted your flesh

Gave up your freedom

Bargained your soul

To a one that would use the broken carapace of your hopes
as a bucket to piss in.

Death Makes a Holiday II

BASTARD!
She shouted, and threw the telephone
-through- the wall
pausing, and staring a moment

what's going on...?

Death stood from her table
left a 25% tip
(it was good chocolate)
and wandered outside.

The girl stared as the woman walked out of the wall

The woman said, "Well. Hope that made the point."

The other One sat up
(she had been lying on the ground, in a little crater of unlife she had made
not to be found for several hours yet)

She stammered "the..phone?"

The woman/girl who was Death smiled. (It's hard to realize her age)
"Yes. The phone. I dodged it, naturally."

The other girl blinked.
"I don't understand."

Death nodded.
"Who was the bastard this time, pray tell. Who hurt you this time?"

"What does it matter. Another day, another pain, another form of death."

Death grunted. "My sister, you have no idea what all my forms are. But you will."

The mortal blinked hard a few times.
What does it mean?
Pain is pain. Life hurts. We must endure.

Death smiled.
"Have you any idea? Do you think that all the pain you've endured, all your life is for no reason?
The universe always has a reason. It IS reason, in all shapes and forms. You are, what you are..."
Because we need you.

Death crossed the street, and took the other woman's hand, embracing her for a silent, brief moment.
"I am here. Maybe not to explain, not even to comfort, but you are my sister, in pain and in torment, we are two halves of the same coin, for all eternity."

The girl stared, "What do you mean, sister?", *she pulled away* "I do not know you, woman."

Death laughed. "I did not know it myself. Until I saw a mortal. Willing to accept her shortcomings. Taking responsbilities for her mistakes. Knows herself and her shortcomings, accepting them. Accepting resolve. And last of all, embracing the Numbness. I knew this, and knew were my kin."

The mortal shook her head and shook her head. "I wished to end it all and you were at the end of the trail. I did not choose this path. No one I know needs me. No one cares for me; wants me in this world. I have no usefulness."

Death took her hand. "I do not care what you think you know. I do not see what you see. I see a man what wants to fulfill his creativity in the only way his closed mind will accept. I see loves unrequited, only because they will not tell you what they need of you. I see a need, that has never been fulfilled, and the person blames themselves through your needs."

The girl frowned, yet took Death's hand. "You say I am your kin, and see things I cannot see and know things I cannot know. I cannot see a malicious intent in you. Yet...I am not ready to end my living, although I was ready to die."

Death tipped her hat, and puts out her hand. "I am niether friend, nor lover, nor One anyone ever trusts completely. I wear clothing from outside time, and offer advice that is out of place. But I know you, and love you. I wished to see you in a place, content and free of sorrow. I couldn't promise you of that time and place. I just wanted to see you find it. Now I know. I can take you there."

I take her hand,
and hope.
for what it's worth.

She asked why I threw the phone.
I tell her it's because
the person I love
decided he needed yet more sleep.

She stared at me for a few moments
and stared some more
"Sleep?"
She rasped
"Sleep."
I replied.
"He requires more than his usual heroes."
"I see", she replies.
He thinks I'm not the One.
Forgive me.
Pretend heroes don't make up a hero, do they?
She asks in my mind, answering my unspokens.
Also, you're not -THE- One, but you're one of the Ones.

Maybe.
But does every woman need a hero?
I ask the Goddess.

Yes.
She says.

Yes.

Now. I say, the girl says, the unsoul that had been mortal says.
Tell me
about being a One.

Death Makes a Holiday

She stood watching the tiny lights, the sparkling city spread below her like a jeweled carpet. The wind blew her dark hair across her cheek like a caress. Calm now, she waited. For what, she didn't know. But the unquiet thoughts that paced across her soul were still for now. It had been easy to scale the side of the building, she thought. Look at me, a ninja. She smiled wryly. It had only been a fire escape, rusty and unguarded. But now she was perched on the side of an office building like a small, disconsolate gargoyle.

In the city, away from the lights, away from the populace. She was only herself. No one to perform for, nothing to try to prove. In the darkness, she was away from it all. How she wished the sense of peace, of silence could last forever. The razorblade she alwayed carried in her coat pocket seemed...hot. She stuck her hand in after it and traced it with a forefinger. Warm. Reminiscing about the fantasies she'd always sought, of recognition, approval, success...never brought her such warmth. They never promised her what she really wanted.

"What do I...want?", she whispered.

Images of the people in her life flashed before her eyes. Lovers, family, old friends.
No. She shook her head.
Not them,
Me.

What do I...
Why do I...

I've been strong, she thought. I've fought hard. It never got me anything. Nothing worth having, and when I got it, it didn't last anyway.

*Yes it did*
Came a whisper of her mind, a small golden gleam, fluttering in her mind like a dragonfly

It lasted until he told me he was my boyfriend, not my therapist. Shut it.
Close the door, open a window...

Razorblades and deadends
mistletoe and sakura blossoms

It's all the same to her.

A bloodflower that blooms in the dead of winter.

She laughed.
It doesn't have to make any sense. They all think I'm crazy.
Beautiful and crazy.
A passionate soul that can only end in madness.

She pulled out the blade and threw it down,
28 stories down into darkness

It's California
it's winter
still warm of course

She's only bones, so she shivers yet
it's more than fleshcold she feels

The blade tinks against the fire escape once
Death raises her curly head from her cup of chocolate
She is watching from the window at Mo's
Will she this time? She wonders.
I like that girl, she thinks. Good conversation.

The girl smiled her trademark as if she'd heard
that small lopsided quirk
and followed the blade with her body
and ended her days with what she had finally found

ah, the silence.

Never Cry

Breaking

Broken

Borrowed time

Bones and bloody

shells of lies

Walk on glass

Glide in fire

cracking stairs

erected pyre

Lift me up

Lash me down

craze my teeth

hear me howl

Burn me

Bleed me

Taste my pain

what I gave...

never again.

An empty heart,

A guttered flame,

See true love

Hang head in shame.

What is, Is.

Ashes

Candles,
bleeding
on the floor

You don't need me
You don't see me anymore.

Reaching
Needing
moan in pain

You don't notice
You hang up again.

Seeming
Meaning
I try to show

You don't get it
and want to go.

It's my fault,
all of it.
So many candles
still unlit.

Through a haze of shadowy dreams
I read your words and want to scream

I long to go back to that loving place
once again touch your kind, sweet face.

But all I did was make you blind
and all I can do now is look behind.

A face of iron,
a heart of stone

The man I see
is now unknown.

The girl I was
is mostly dead

So many reasons
left unsaid.

My words mean nothing
You've heard them before.

My tears even less,
and you're out the door.

Here now in the snow I lie
clutching my matches,
waiting to die.

A life fractured in guttering flame
In visions of happiness,
there is no blame.

I leave you at last
with a last, imagined kiss.

Your little matchgirl
will hardly be missed.

The Clock of Life

The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.

To lose one's
wealth is sad indeed,
To lose one's health is more,
To lose one's soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.

The present only is our own,
So Live, Love, toil with a will--
Place no faith in 'Tomorrow' --
For the clock may then be still.


Robert H. Smith
©1932-1982