When Pandora opened her box
And let all the evils out into the world,
She closed the box in time
To save for humanity just one.
You will hear the weavers of tales
Tell you that this was a virtue she preserved,
But I am here to insist it was none.
Hope is the cruelest of the demons that plague us.
That tantalizing "maybe",
That eternal "what if?"
Maybe he feels for me.
What if he loved me?
And then when hope is broken,
The despair is like a physical pain.
Cut my heart out of my chest and put out my eyes,
For it could not hurt so much as this.
And the tears fall and I cannot imagine them ever stopping.
Plague and pestilence may take your life,
But the pain does not bleed from every pore,
And into your dreams at night.
So I must beg you, Pandora, please,
Open your box again.
Release me.

To be different is to be alone.
No truer words are there.
We both know this truth
Through the experience of it.
It doesn’t matter
If what separates us is for good or ill,
Only the difference of it matters.
The similarities pale in comparison.
We don’t need to be told,
But neither can we be protected.
The fact of the difference is
Never easily concealed.
And the concealing of it
Does as much harm,
For it only makes friends false.
It seems expedient perhaps
To obtain the illusion of friendship,
But rely not on their love or care,
For they will betray you
When finally your nature is revealed.
It is your choice then.
Betrayal or solitude.
Some choice.

I never wanted this;
I never asked for this,
But here I am.
I look back and wonder
Where could a choice have been made?
Where did I make the wrong turn?
When was the moment
When I lost what I longed for?
The childhood dreams,
The passion,
The purpose,
My reason for being.
But if truth be known
I don’t remember,
Because I was already lost
Long before the decision came.
I was already falling,
I just hadn’t felt the pain yet
Of hitting the bottom of my abyss,
And it was much longer still
Before the pain was bearable to feel
Through my numb mind
And numb heart.
Too late.
So like a phoenix, a fallen angel,
I rise only to fall again
And again
Until the trying itself becomes unbearable.
My rage sustains me
And kills me all the same from within.
Let go. Let go.
Embrace again your reasons for being;
Embrace again the love that fueled a different kind of passion,
And find a way back home.

I am surrounded by darkness,
But it is illusion.
Removing my sunglasses
Only blinds me with the glare.
Even the street lights are too much.
I put them back on;
They are only to hide me, I know.
To keep others from seeing in,
Seeing the tears that well up
Which I struggle to hold back.
I am cold,
But the coat I pull around my shoulders
Does not keep the chill out,
For it is from within.
I brace myself against it
But it cuts me like ice just the same.
I am alone.
I touch my lips
As if they could somehow manifest my dream,
But they feel coarse,
Like the soul that drives everyone away.
But I stand.
I do not crumble.
I will not allow it to be a weakness,
Instead, It will be a strength.
I can go on.
I can resist the cold.
I can see in the dark.
If need be I will make the entire journey this way.
But do not be afraid.
A companion would be welcome.

Silence the tongue;
Stop the heart,
Through violence if need be.
Not so much truth, please.
Trust is not given so lightly.
Your tongue deceives;
Your heart is not in it.
I give and you waver.
Stop this now.
You cannot give back what is given.
I cannot change you,
So I must learn to give less.
It hurts.
I feel colder
The more I wrap up inside myself,
But not as cold
As when my warmth drains from me
Like blood from a wound,
And is yet foresworn.
You were father and mother to me,
And yet, when most I needed you,
You heaped betrayal upon broken heart.
Perhaps I will never learn.
For how else may my heart be mended
If not through learning to trust,
To give again?

Look inward.
It's a dark path they say,
One that lead to narcissism,
Arrogance and selfishness.
But when one is already all these things,
How else does one escape it
But through cold self-evaluation?
And so I look inside
And try to understand.
The motives of the past are keys to present action.
Thus to change these actions,
How else to proceed but through their source.
Eventually, I myself
Will not be such a mystery,
Then the ability to look outward
Might just be possible.
Seen through eyes that can reflect
Internal understanding on the motives of others.
How else is empathy built?
The danger of looking inward then
Lies not in the looking
But in the lack of reflection,
And in allowing oneself to be lost in one's own desires.
They control you,
And you become their slave.

Friendship once honoured,
Becomes cherished
When it is suddenly no more.
One abruptly finds meaning in it
Never seen before,
As the numbers of them dwindle.
What was once a playmate,
Perhaps a confidant,
Becomes a cold necessity
When it stands between you
And the dark solitude.
So those that remain, you wish to keep
And thus upon them you heap
Your trust and feeling,
And expectation.
You give and give, and lose yourself
For the hope that it might be returned,
That at least they'll have reason to stay.
It is only loyalty you give
And loyalty you desire.
But few can pay you back
With the same coin you've purchased
Their friendship with;
And when finally this must become painfully clear,
The only result is betrayal.
It matters not, your intentions or theirs;
It is the only possible result
For disappointment.
And as much as you've given,
You'll want back in retribution for your pain.
Be it in blood,
For tears alone
Cannot sate your anguish.
But take care whose hide
The lash of your anger strikes,
For all too often
It will be your own blood that runs.

The voices in my head
Speak of questions, of doubt.
They speak of mistakes,
And, perhaps with time,
The seeds of wisdom.
But the voice beside me
Want to hear none of these things,
And seeks to drown them
In a different kind of platitude.
It speaks of the 'real' world.
It speaks of feeling and praise...
And blame.
But the voice blames me for nothing,
Rather it blames all who stand opposed to my will.
Forever uncritical of me,
Without moral judgment.
The voice is a comfort.
It claims to ask nothing of me in return,
And yet the less it asks
The more I give to it
Until I find my throat parched and grasping
For each morsel of self-worth it feeds me.
How did I come to be here?
How do I escape?
Do I even want to?
But my own wisdom fails me,
And the hole I have dug in my soul
Seems bottomless each time
I speak of duty and principle.
But today duty leads to confusion
And only you calm the chaos with an answer.
Be it right or wrong, I know not,
But no one else is speaking,
And my own voice has long since
Become a quiet whisper
In the black hole I call my soul.

I waited a long time for this,
An eternity it seemed.
Even a Jedi must weep
At the sacrifices I've made.
The dreams I've watched die.
Still, I cling tenaciously to this one.
I have the skill;
I always have,
But I wait impatiently for some acknowledgement,
For a moment to relax my vigilance,
A moment to enjoy rather than strive.
I face you now
In this moment of decision.
My hopes are high.
I've done everything you've asked of me,
And more.
But instead of a small moment of thanks
To honour my achievement,
I face the unforgiving "no"
You present me instead.
Now I am lost where before I was certain.
Why? What does this mean?
What possible reason could there be?
But if it is some personal flaw,
You will not tell me which.
Even so, how indeed does this affect
My ability to do what I must?
What I have been called to do?
And how do I hide from you
My shock and incredulity?
There is nothing to do but walk away,
Drowning in my confusion
Until someone can please force order
Onto the chaos in my soul.
For who am I
If not this?

Death and life.
Worse, this was a place
Halfway between the two.
The memory is more than vivid,
It's physical.
It's not a memory at all,
But a flashback.
Flash back to the black glass sand
Under my skin and now in it,
Thanks to the flames that consumed
What was left of my body.
And you watched,
Screaming at me your expectations.
You did this to me!
I love you once, a father,
But there are no tears left to weep,
Only the hatred that gives me
A reason to keep going.
Another me watches and weeps the tears I cannot.
The pain we share--
One is physical,
And one concealed to the world inside my head,
And we are both alone with our rage,
Rage to drown the pain
That can come back in certain moments,
Like when I look at a star
And recall my lost dream.
I cling to my hatred though,
Because I am too afraid to die,
Not realizing,
I've already died inside.

I must find a way again,
A way to get up,
To stand...
Alone.
I don't know if I can do this,
Not another time,
Not after so many times
Of falling and failing.
Somehow I've managed to get up,
To limp along and continue.
I've watched others get up,
To stand again tall and proudly,
Reclaim their stride,
But always I see
They lean on others beside them,
Using not just their own will
But the strength of those beside them.
And I lean on...
No one.
But still I try to stand,
To stand alone if I must,
But I fear the blows
That inevitably rain down on me.
The harder I try to get up,
The weaker I feel--not stronger--
And that much less able to rise again
Once felled.
And so I fear to stand.
Hurts all the more falling does,
But stand I must.
Climb to my feet and remain thus.
I have no choice but to fight for it,
To risk the pain and fate
Of falling again,
For fallen I cannot endure.
Giving up is not in my nature,
But without the strength
To rise and keep to my feet alone,
Falling will one day kill me.

You conceal your face.
You know your shame.
But you do not look at it.
Your fear binds your heart
And robs your mind of reason.
Your duty paid a high price,
But no more than the price
You paid with your body,
The price you paid with your gifts.
Only blood could see
The truth behind the mask,
The life lost long ago.
Death itself can release you
To find again the path to destiny.

I bleed blood and dreams,
I walk alone.
My heart weeps.
I am unable to hide my sorrow.
It's a weakness.
I cover it with your anger,
Anger which mirrors my own.
It's not just weakness I hide
But fear and failure.
I wanted so much
And achieved so little.
Each of us goes on as we must
But each day is full of doubting
And the pain of memory,
Of mistakes we don't wish to face.
Only by staring, by embracing them
Will the pain we carry
Ever let us go?

Your face is full of fate;
Your life gives death desire.
My eyes are haunted by the vision.
I suffer your sweet smile,
But my thoughts throb in shadow.
I am raw and broken watching.
I have given in to this same darkness,
Whispering words of question.
I cry over your conflict,
But I am used to this torment;
It lingers through my laughing.
Beneath the bitter angel waking,
A demon swims in honeyed truth.
See, pretend, lie to the world!
You cannot hide from me.

The apartment is silent.
Even the fans are still.
The air outside is cool for August,
And running the fans,
Though it provides a soft hum
That breaks this awful silence,
Still chills me to the bone.
It's cold in here anyway,
But not just because of the temperature,
Because you are gone.
Your quiet needing,
Your gentle morning greetings,
Your ability to just be--
So different than my restless striving.
All are more noticeable--
Noticeably missing--
In your absence.
Come back to me, dark darling.
Come back to the chair you slept in,
The couch we held and comforted each other on.
Come back to me
Before I go mad
In this shuddering emptiness.

for Destiny
missing 2005 August 22
returned 2005 September 4

Candlelight shines faintly.
Outside the rain comes and goes,
Robbing me of the trappings of civilization,
Robbing me of the distractions I labour over,
Leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Today those thoughts are pounding with a single word:
Loneliness.
But what a banal mold this is
For the things I am feeling.
Isolation is better.
That talent for feeling alone
Even surrounded by people...
Especially by people.
That the hardest thing.
The thing I crave,
And yet it makes the condition more acute.
At least when one is by oneself,
One expects to feel this way.
It's not something you ever get used to.
The source of this feeling is clear enough--
Always has been--
But knowing this, and knowing it can't be changed...
Acceptance comes only momentarily
In those hours I spend alone
Labouring on some project
That attempts to bring meaning to my life.
But in moments like this,
The tears come instead.
Stop rain!
Bring back my distractions.
I want to go back to pretending,
Pretending it doesn't bother me.
Thinking too much
I lose all hope
Of breaking through this isolation.

My thoughts dwell here.
My mind cannot seem to leave this place.
I drown in the reminders
Of tragedy shared.
The helpless feeling of wanting to change it,
And being powerless to do so.
And so I remain willingly in the despair,
Sharing the sense of deep pain,
As if somehow my empathy alone
Can stop it.
And nothing changes.
It's too late to stop it.
And what of myself?
The roots of this empathy?
If he is lost,
What then am I?
I hurt for him as I once did for myself.
It was years ago...
Where do I go from here?
How can I take my meagre fortune
And find again
The dreams we both lost?
Getting up again
Hurts just as much as falling down.
More.
But I will linger a while longer
To burn into my soul his lessons
Along with my own.
Somehow, I will make it matter for something.
I don't believe in destiny
But I once had one of my own.
I am not the Chosen One.
My destiny I will choose myself.

I found a new mirror for my soul.
Like you, not an entirely pleasant reflection,
But also like you, inspiring me to change.
My mother's had fits over this one--
It's just a character, she keeps saying--
But she's missing the point,
Because like anything else
The character is more real than some people;
It's much harder even,
To get inside their heads.
But I watch this life, this story,
Play out on the screen...
It's like watching an imperfect echo of my life.
The conflict, the pain,
All in metaphor,
But nonetheless poignant;
Nonetheless reminding me of truths
I'd chosen to forget.
Like you, there is nothing I can do
But rage inside for a time,
I can't help him,
But through these new eyes
I can look back at myself
And try to help me,
But without the futile hope
That I may likewise inspire change.
But I'm trying again, for myself,
Because being Darth Vader isn't any fun,
And it's a lonely hell, too.

The light of the sun fades
And the night grows quiet and hush.
The gloaming fades into darkness
And with it all my senses.
The night speaks to me in other voices.
Not the scream of the sunlight
Or the bright laughter of children.
Instead, it speaks with the soft jingle of moonlight
And the cold glow of darkness.
The pinpricks of starlight smear out
Midst the flood of my tears.
For joy or the pain of their beauty
I care not.
The night is a lonely mistress,
Full of confusion and desperation,
But it is only through its eyes
One gains knowledge--
And perhaps even wisdom--
But listen softly
Or the message it speaks drowns
In the anger of our own hearts.
For a while, I even stopped listening,
But now I hear the voice of night again.
It is still a straining whisper,
But new understanding comes
With each new twilight.
Soon enough I will forget
I ever knew the day,
And the only voice I'll hear
The soft whisper of the night.

Time passes.
Some things change--
Some things do not.
The deep well that contains my feelings for you,
This well remains deep
And filled with love for you.
What else there is about it...
I cannot say.
It is there, though,
Of that much, you can be certain.
To fill this well
Would require all the earth the world possess.
It cannot be done.
Only some violent act of anger can do that.
I long to drink from these waters,
To filled again as once they filled me...
But I cannot.
I must not.
Like fire they are,
Fire that burns me through.
And too thirsty I am to drink
Only until I'm sated.
Rather, I would drink you dry again,
And until my lips and tongue were no more.
Capped the well must remain.
For now.
I go instead in search of food,
Food for my soul.
I've had too little of it
For the span of time it takes to redeem Darth Vader,
But when my hunger is satisfied
And I can drink from your well
But to drink
And not to mask my deeper hunger,
Then perhaps it will be safe to uncap the well
And simply enjoy its depths,
Instead of becoming lost in them.