Little Love

Little boy made her cry
She knows it's not his fault
But blame can be a fickle thing,
And indecision, an assault.
She's lost all her rationals
- Swallowed by her senses.
Gaps of logic nestled between
Slats of white-picket fences.
Silly girl tried to jump
He didn't know she fell
He's not the sort to play the hero,
And she's not the type to dwell.
Let him go and he'll come back
- A proverb rarely proven true.
He's not running, he's not hiding
There's just nothing there to pursue.

Role-playing

By all means, explain,
Sanctimonious bitch.
Call it what you will,
Moralize the pain.
Admit that you see,
But call it the greater good.
Watch them gasp for breath
And sweep up their debris.
You're surprised the world crumbles?
Don't like how she falls?
What else could be when you exist;
God's little fumbles.
I condone the role I've played
(A story needs a villain),
But like any woven tale
The hero's more than portrayed.
Go ahead and act as their penicillin,
Feed your deity-complex.
I'll sit here and preach quixotically.
I'm content to play the villain.

Truths

(Again, not written for me. I sort of like it anyway...)

I'm awake.
The snoring is a ruse
to keep you detached,
Broken off.
Did it work?
Did you finger my hair,
Pat my cheek,
And close the door?
I know.
The screaming could have been a nightmare;
Fear, not frustration.
However,
Plausibility isn't fact.
I know.
Tricky bitch, truth is.
And the truth is
I'm awake.
I'm alive.

I stand

(Written for English class. Contrived? Probably. But the teacher hated it, so I'm obligated to post.)

Alike and separate,
Cracked and whole,
I stand
among them, and they
They see and they nod.
Reject,
scorn,
exile; take your name.
And so I sit.
The others purse lips,
but they,
They see and they nod.
Accept,
admire,
embrace; choose your poison.
Now, holding power
they goad
With respect and praise
To stand and
to fall.
Struggle against the force
of my own brutalities, and they,
They see and they laugh.
Fruitless,
lost,
barren; give up your vision.
Empty and ignorant,
I stand
and start to walk
Among them and between them
Around them and through them.
They see, and they stare
from their seats upon the ground.
But I do not notice
their eyes
Far below
my line of vision.

Suspended

Number dozens of sheep,
Turn the pillow over twice,
Even count to infinite.
And still spend the night
suspended.
Lost in consciousness
and waiting for reprieve.
From who, from what,
Who and what know.
It matters less
when it never comes.
Veins full of rush,
And ears full of deep beat.
Count them out loud to yourself:
One,
         Two,
                  Three.
Bask in the witching hour's sweet bass,
And try not to play traffic lights
with your thoughts.
Red light:
                  bitter everything.
Green light:
                     sugary nothings.
Focus and float,
Achieve the oxymoron
and drift away
into concentration.