The Death of the Old Me

The Book of Spells: Chapter Thirteen

 While muse is here

I'll follow suit

And dig in heart with spade

A grass of green

A turnip root

A cripple I became

How sad is he

To mope about 

How lost is he to stare

Into the trees like hopeless routes

Which ultimately lead nowhere

I found the tree

I found the cave

I found the sWords Within

I fought the beast

I heard a shout

I silenced all the din

Until I saw a bright gold light

Until I saw the page

Until I read the first few words

And fell into an age.

They told me tales so lost in time

I never heard before

Inside the clicking clocktower

I found the hidden door.

And into I went, into I came

Until I knew the truth

And now I hear the piper's song

No matter which I choose:

To listen or to laugh and love,

The damage has been done. ...

The Death of the Old Me

 I remember things. Strange things. 

From a world I made up in my head.

I still live there. I visit here.

But I feel as though I'm dead.

Or some sort, of mania,

Something I can't explain.

I need to find some remedy.

A need to erase the pain..

I feel the shame in every day.

I barely can endure,

But I remain here just enough,

To tell myself a tale,

To reach inside these broken eyes,

To see the holy grail. 

I see the world in front of me,

I feel the life within,

But still I seem to fall apart,

When hope is suddenly dim. 

How come I lost the way to be,

How come I fell behind?

Why did my friends all leave from me?

Why also did my mind? 

I hope to have a way again,

I hope to someday be free,

I pray that madness leaves from me,

I pray that all will see. 

Tell Me

Spend most of my days, locked in my past
Living in regret I forgot when the last
Time I felt alive was, its no surprise because
Everywhere I go I'm still caught in the grasp
Of all these damned lies I tell myself
I've got too much pride, I don't need your help.
I never even try to conceal my health
So just leave me alone, in these seas I've dwelt
For far too long. Now I know I've lost touch, but
What I got left's what I need, its enough:
A dream and a team and a reason to rush
The stage with these pages, I'm even and up
For anything, more than we're ready for
We're slow going, but rowing to steady shores
Past sirens who sang through my heart before,
Told me what I lost then, was already Yours.

The Book of Spells (Chains III)

"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." -Roald Dahl

I believed and its true, if you are searching for something

If your heart truly desires a thing, the thing will find you

But you must be prepared for whatever consequences

The thing brings with it, because there is no turning back

My perception of the world is a story, but it is unfortunately one written

In pen; in permanence

Ink which drinks ever-quickly

Its what I've spent my life on the past four years

Searching for proof written on walls of red

Take what the water gave me

And give it back in whichever way I can

Do good, teach and change the world

Lord, help me, give me direction

Universe, spread my wings

I have named the ailment in my mind

He...

The Madness (Chains II)

 It's the ***ing voice in my head that tells me all these lies

Aye, all day long I fight with myself now THAT is what had made me a little crazy

Can you imagine? If you cannot trust your own mind, what CAN you trust?

It's a melodrama, a battle born in the depths of a heart eaten away by madness but ahh,

How the soul fights back! And such a defense this is reminding you, that you are eternal

And what is all this but a minor trial in the grander design of the heavens?

How to even acknowledge the problems of a mere mortal when, 

The sun and the moon and the stars continue spinning

And we are apart of that perfect circle

I understand that I am the hero, the villain, 

The threshold guardian, the shadow, the trickster,

The liar, the liberator, the separation within

I am the author of my own madness

And quite a story I tell

God I confess to you all because

oblivion II

 should have

resisted

the temptation

to see everything

to see all

endless greed

avarice

my vice

like wind in a hollow

ive emptied

the doors have closed

leaving

noise

endless

noise

trapped in here

with you

betrayer

monster. menace. mania. melancholy.

oblivion

light has faded

ever since I left

i closed the book

now i feel nothing  

nothing seems real

as if in a dream 

i apologize im

stuck in between

i cant see it

i cant see you

sightless eyes

no surprise

should have

heeded

the warning

bloody damn well right

 the goal is to save the world. we're in this together now, nine inch nails style. are you ready? cause kaboom here it comes. I am, as ready as ill ever be and i know not why or when or how BUT

I know where

here! in america (arcadia) city of games and freedom and lies and burgers and fries

opportunity to fight either side of the war funded by masterful puppeteers

bankers, blackhand, illuminati, santa claus call it what you like

funny, havent they heard its a war of words?

symbols on either side thrown with reckless abandon they aim at our heart and minds with a rather sickening success

we see their technique and marvel at how the people arent listening to us as much as they need to

megalomania, messiah complex, schizophrenia give em to me all of them names you have in your book

the ones for the crazies, for the misfits, for the wrenches in your gears your machines, etc etc

free verse for slaves?<...

Swords

Swords for our guardians,

Shields for our people.

Keys for our locks,

Meals for our regal.

Artisan of avarice,

Cardinal of creed,

Bargain'd sins be hazardous,

Pardon all we read.

Embers burn within a hearth,

December winter nears,

I see the Hope we hold inside:

Greater than our fears.

Freakshow

See now, the phantom’s charred face!
Bemused by madness, marred disgrace!
Fingers curl’d in wrinkled fists!
Vengeance ‘furled from crinkling lips!
See how the monster falls apart-
Without a purpose, balls or heart-
He sinks in hatred, stinks of woe-
His stringy hairline, worthless toes.
I see no point in why he lives!
Ask Frankenstein even why he gives,
A minute of day to this horrid beast-
Sickly blight of war that feasts-
On plates of stares, hissing and grimaces-
On pools of phlegm, piss and scrimmages
A dark day comes when he will know,
What life is like living on the show,
For freaks as he are made for the part,
Of showing the world the mainfalls of art.
I see his dilemma, I feel his plight:
Why search for day, when born for night?