SsOmNiNlEeT

I slash the page with stone-hard strokes in ink
To release the visage of my lost Irene.
She left me alone in this room to think
Why she smiled at the window then leapt from the scene.

I know that I loved her with my heart entire,
Yet I could not completely meet her needs.
I hope she found that which she did desire,
But hope won’t soften the sorrow hope breeds.

Simple actions seem skewed in love’s domain,
I guess what I did I did not do right.
She showed me my failures, left me with pain,
Every night her exit tortures my sight.

I’ll finish this portrait of her sweet face,
Then burn that smile of hate and leave no trace.

For Dad

The voice changed me, and I am changed,
transformed into that which is not bent,
broken, unable to function.

I thought the voice had lost me, given up on me,
taken my privilege away, but it would never do that.
The voice will always be patient with me, give me another chance
to triumph, and I am grateful for the chance, more chances,
millions of chances that give me life
and never take it away.

The voice always accepts me, listens to me,
makes the day brighter and longer and better
and I will never take it for granted again.

Reason makes me whole, glues my broken pieces together
and forces them to stick, because it wants nothing from me,
only love, only respect, only a presence, that is enough,
not too much, never too little.

Whatever I say is not always right, but it is always okay,
never wrong, never denied, never rejected.
The voice glows and I shine with it.

I love you for your grace, for giving me a million chances
on top of a million chances to continue, to be brave,
to give of myself when I need to give and to take
only what I need to make it through this.

My father loves me, and if no one else does,
I know that to be true. Thank you Dad,
because you find light in blinding darkness,
and you burn brightest of all.

Dance

Eventually a shiver comes,
setting you into motion until
contemplation ends, instinct begins.
Rhythm derives from the joining of pulse and beat.
A heart knows how to keep time;
let it count for you.

Steps don’t matter.
Dancing begins in the mind; legs and toes react
to the interaction between chemicals and music.
A sway occurs in every note;
gravity in sound that will pull you forward as
positive draws negative.

Electricity gives light; melody creates heat.
Muscles join tendons join skin in the game
to bring forth celebration and perspiration.
Perfect harmonies invent goose flesh.
Waves strike the body and travel through.
You won’t stand still for long.

My Photoshop Skills - Freehand

Relationship

I turned you over once and found batteries in your back.
I said, "What the fuck is this?"
You turned your head to smile at me and said,
"Oh, I guess our relationship has changed now."

I turned you over twice again and the batteries were gone.
I said, "What is going on here?"
You spoke without turning your head,
"Were you expecting anything else?"

I Go On

I know what I cannot have.
The realization stings me,
makes my heart ache,
slows my mind.
I see an empty room.

I want what I cannot have.
Too many stop signs hold down my speed,
keep me far from the goal
or the hope of a setting a goal.
I find nothing safe.

I deserve what I cannot want.
Perhaps I am not capable of happiness,
I love ideas too much,
I will be alone like this always.
I hate the silence.

I have what I do not desire.
I make choices, not all consciously,
that may lead me deeper into darkness,
that could haunt me.
I am endlessly afraid of what I do not know.

I am what I will not accept.
My motives escape me,
want nothing to do with me,
Few ideas hurt worse than
believing I have lied to myself.

I can have what I need.
Some part of me wants to change,
oils the passion I have lost,
drives me forward faster, faster.
I should get out of my way.

What is Seen

A mirror cannot reflect everything.
It won’t give feedback, it won’t offer comfort,
no eyes will look back at you besides your eyes.
A smile in a mirror is only your smile,
it is as warm as you make it,
but not like a smile from someone who cares about you.
You can laugh in a mirror, but it won’t know why you laugh,
or why you feel good.
A mirror asks no questions and requires no answers.

A mirror cannot show everything.
It won’t give a reason for your loneliness, it won’t help,
no arms will reach out to hold you besides your arms.
The hands in the mirror are only your hands,
they are as soft as you make them,
but not like the hands of someone who loves you.
You can scream at a mirror, but it won’t care why you scream,
or why you feel fear.
A mirror will not tell a lie when you hope for one.

A mirror cannot hide anything.
It won’t be fair, it won’t allow time,
no words will give you peace besides your words.
Tears on your cheeks are only your tears,
they are as honest as you make them,
but not like the tears of someone who accepts you.
You can break a mirror, but it won’t consider why you break it,
or why you feel destructive.
A mirror will only hate what you hate about yourself.

A mirror will not promise, though you might hear it.
A mirror does not forgive, though you might need it.
A mirror only presents what you put before it.
Alone or not, you choose to believe it.

Abuse

Even breath.
I'm sorry, I say, but I don't mean it.
I'm so sorry.
I can clench these fingers a thousand times
but the familiar sting won't leave them.
Again I've beaten you, again for my own reasons,
and I feel absolutely nothing but the pain in my hands.

That sideways look.
When you see it, you should know I'm turning off.
I've already made the decision to hit you.
I'm just waiting for the right moment,
the surprise moment,
for the impact to be both meaningful and painful.
Jesus, I can't even say you asked for it.

Cold thoughts.
I'm always going to hurt you when I need to heal.
That is the truth.
You should go, because immediately after I put you on the ground
I am briefly unsure if I ever want to do it again.
Briefly.

Create

Art consumes me.
I sit in a
Cold, brown chair and draw a silver
Brush
Across my skin.
I smile with sawing teeth and hungry eyes.
Paint
Runs over my shoulder,
Down my legs,
Onto the white tile.
I fall into the ocean beneath me
While the image develops, tacky.
Vital waves dry golden and salty
On the floor.
I sleep but do not dream.

How I Feel at Work (sometimes)

Welcome

Hello. My name is billz. I'll see how much I want to post in here as time goes on. For now, wait.