And the Battle for My Soul Rages On....

Tick, Tock goes the clock on the wall. I hear it and I watch it. I should be working. Really, there has got to be something that needs my attention. Seconds turn into minutes turning into hours dropping off my life. Forever. Gone. Time spent wishing time away. But when it comes time, will I bargain with the devil for a few extra days or will I beg and plead with God to forgive me and take me earlier? Like God should listen to me. I only call on him these days to curse something or question something. The devil, on the otherhand, he and I are close, personal friends. He keeps me right where I am and causes me to laugh at my predicament rather than fix it.

"Girl, just keep on wallowing in it. Call on me and I will give you the tools you need to complete your self destruction. It will be fantastic. Something to be remembered."

"But devil, can't I have more in my life? Don't I deserve to be loved?"

"Foolish girl. You are getting exactly what you deserved. Exactly what you prayed to get, remember? God is not the only one who answers prayers, my sweet. I gave you what you wanted and now you want to backtrack on our deal. Let me refresh your memory. You wanted him. He tried to warn you that he would never fall in love with you and you did not care. Be damned with everything else. You would offer yourself up to him and expect nothing in return. How noble of you. Did I not deliver for you? Did you not get exactly what you asked for? Now all that is left for you is to laugh at your pathetic life and your pathetic self. It really is quite funny. You played a game with me and you lost. Thinking you could make a difference. That you could love someone into loving you. Girl, you are full of it. Do you think you are believable? How could anyone love you? You don't even love yourself, but don't worry. I am here for you always, my dear. Here to always remind you of who you really are and the little deal we made. Oh and God called. He said when you stop lying to yourself he'll be glad to talk to you again. Until then....looks like it's you and me, kid."



p.s. What did I really have to lose?

Stained

How do you put feelings on a page? How can you keep words from losing their real meaning or becoming lost in the translation? Can you really feel me? My concern? My frustration? My fears? My self hatred? My love? My hopes? My anger? My faith? How can I help you understand that there is nothing between us? No walls, no lies, no secrets, no masks. Just empty space. Just us. Would it become real for you if the paper were left soaking wet? Would you trust me if I dipped my pen in my veins and wrote the words in my own blood? Would that be enough to make you believe again?

Will you ever believe again?

My eyes are bloodshot and my arms are scarred.

Let me try once more....


p.s. Soggy paper falls apart and your hands are stained red. Do you feel me now?

Plenty of Hope, But Not Enough Rope

Some people might say that I'm crazy. Crazy things spill from my head. My head keeps spinning. Spinning and weaving my tale, and sometimes it gets hard to keep up. Up to my neck in my own bullshit. Bullshit that keeps getting deeper. Deeper than the dark hole that I am sitting in. In this place, I sit. Sit infrequently and thinking constantly. Constantly moving my dirt all around. Around this place, it gets lonely sometimes. Sometimes I need a friend. A friend that would offer an answer. An answer to questions not found. Found my companion to be me, myself, and I. I talk to myself quite a lot. A lot of the time it's just rambling. But some of the time it is not. Not that I mind all the voices. The voices have nice things to say. They say I have nothing to fear here, and tomorrow is a brand new day. A day where all things are possible, and everything starts fresh and new. New ideas to get out of this hole, and the hell that I'm going through. Through all this right now, I bet you are thinking. Your thinking, does she have a point? Point of the story is secret. And the secret shall not be revealed. Revealed here or no where until what is broken has healed. Healed wounds and patched heart maybe if I'm lucky. Lucky I can hide all my scars. Scars are reminders of battles. Battles I have fought and I have won. Won a chance to do it all over. Overturned and play a new part. Part of me wishes I could stop this. This insanity that I know so well. Well if it all stopped at this moment, I'd die and be burning in hell. Hell won't have me just yet, so I'll patiently sit and I'll wait. Wait for someone to toss me a rope, or a shovel to dig my own grave......


Love Always,
S

p.s. Damn that felt good....