"and noone really knows what they are searching for, this world is crying for so much more"

run your fingers across the soft velvet of the night sky. inhale the burning chill of freedom. you have the power, the knowledge, and the will to do whatever you desire. lust is like ashes in your mouth, a flame that burns hot, and then is smothered into smokey oblivion. love is the ultimate goal of human nature. it's what everyone craves, no matter how much they strive to deny it.

a sparkly mask, plastic surgery, a blank face that lacks all emotion.. go ahead, hide who you are. wear a paper bag over your head for all i care. as long as you are afraid to love yourself, you will never be able to truly fall in love with anybody else.

everybody wears a mask.
for some it's the facade of happiness. ... a constant ear-to-ear smile, while concealing their true emotions behind a pleasant disposition and the ability to just keep on "having fun", even while emptiness is eating them up inside.

everybody has a secret.
a skeleton in the closet, waiting to be exposed in all it's glory.

everybody is fighting a battle.
waging a war with personal demons of some kind, that are lurking around every corner, waiting to devour any sign of weakness.

i got lucky.
i am grateful for what i have.
my demons are being fought, and i have somebody on my side. a secret weapon.
my closet has been aired out, clothes hung on the line, and skeleton dissembled and buried.

but
my mask
is still intact.

ironically
i'm not afraid of who i am, but the person i've been is still there. waiting for the mask to slip...
just keep smiling.
it get's easier every day.
soon she'll be gone. :)

memories of resting by a large glass window

that dimly reflected thin unstyled hair and wide innocent eyes, devoid of makeup

something killed her, sliced her in half

a child stolen her away from her father's protective shelter

and transfigured into a little dead baby

like the dolls she played with

the frozen children with clown-like leers and glassy hard eyes

souls locked in torment behind white porcelain

they never stopped staring as she moved their frozen limbs

and made them come alive with sincere imagination

the father reached her first, she would always be his  baby

even as she lay broken, a counterfeit of who she was meant to be

body twisted like a bad joke

disappointment eyes staring vacantly in the darkness

 as if they finally saw something

which completely dimmed their light

only the father can move her limbs

and make her come alive

just a little dead baby

with glassy hard eyes

One by One

neverland