Confusion

There's nothing new to say,

Except to sing of blistered hands

and withered hearts;

And of those you can't quite sing

For then pain forever rings.

Blistered hands from too much application,

Withered hearts from misplaced supplication.....

Ceaseless questions hang aimlessly

for honest answers are hard to come by,

All the hows and whens and whys

Met with dreadful silence

After many failed attempts.....

Life is never as glamorous as we make it seem. So often we heighten every emotion we feel, give everything a poetic spin, make the blues bluer and and the pain grimmer. Life is okay, bearable, even good sometimes. Never extreme.

That's what I have to believe today; in this moment atleast. I think maybe if I hold onto this thought long enough, then this weight of deadness will get off of my chest because the hurt can't be as terrible as I think. Maybe the smiles around me will seem a tad less bright because nobody has any reason to smile that hard or that often. Maybe I'll feel like it hasn't been forever since we talked without fighting since there can't possibly be any reason we should fight that often.....

Even I can't convince myself. Cheating pain means stealing from joy and I can't accept that Tuesday afternoons aren't that beautiful with the breeze blowing in the trees or that life isn't shitty as hell on days like today.

I wanted to write a story so startlingly beautiful that I'd be in awe of myself, the kind that makes one forgive themselves for every day they had writers' block or doubted their artistic ability. Today, I guess, is not one of those days; after many failed attempts, I've still come up empty.