The Trials and Tribulations of being an irrecoverably jaded Rogue Christian

Lubricate the sickness,

Enough to drown it.

Efficiently, cause time’s not cheap.

Unlike some black holes.

Clumsy klutz at awakenings.

But perfect timing at mayhem and plans.

Except with you.

Don’t worry,

Stay asleep.

“When you wake up, the world will come around.”

Tip-toe at the sudden realization.

If we weren’t living in the present, things would be different.

Things of the soul and body grow.
And that would be a mistake to make.

So unsheathe daggers,

unholster lasers and

Play a game called “When you catch fire”.

Make a killing from the wit without bare essentials that are suppose to be equipped.

It doesn’t faze you, and neither does it to me.

You’re just like that and mine was never there.

And I do it cause it’s a shame to be fooled twice.

Even if it was what our industry does worst,

Use some independence or manipulate it enough to be true.

Until then, staying by the sidelines and dark roads by schools is the trend.

“All the boys who the dance floor didn’t love and all the girls whose lips couldn’t move fast enough.” – Pat.

“We take sour sips from life’s lush lips.”

Urgh… Bad ideas taste bizarre.

Sun is a bitch today, I swear sometimes it just does that on purpose for your sake, maybe both.

Little hot messes on smoking grounds.

Where’s daddy?
Apologies for sharp eyes.

At least it wasn’t fuming bright.

Purple, green, yellow. Purple, green, yellow. Purple, green, yellow.

It’s better
than burning straight.
Better than today.

Electrical body-parts are hard to manage if left in sockets.

Tampering will cause harm.

Days get stranger.

Nights get hazier.

The body gets achier.

And you’ll just get further,

Or closer.

Depending on the analogy.

Facebook, please stop telling me who just took a quiz and wants to compare their results with mine.

Everyone forgets.

And as long as that happens, you can get away with anything.

Even blackmails.

All in all honesty, do you really have to do that?

It’s a little less than surprising, a little more annoying.
Not embarassing, not shocking, just something that can’t be described.

What’re you waiting for?

So many questions to never be answered.

Both perspectives either not daring enough or couldn’t be bothered.

Tired tired tired.

By the way, they’re moving to a rainy city.

God, that’s awkward.

And it’s time to go there.

Meeting up with more of it waiting to happen.

“On the drive home, joke about the kid you used to see and his jealousy.” – Patrick, Pete, Joe and Andy.

“If you have cancer and wished it would go away, would it go away?”
Reply: “If you have Jesus in your heart and wished he would go away, would he go away?”

And anvils on kids who were wishing it were on him.

Bad ideas on memory lane.

Putting on voices and jeans just to feel like you.

Backed up guts and life on hooks.

I digress my dehydration.

Your mind is a fruity-loop.

“In the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital.”

Of how misery feels about me.

To the places people would rather not go to at night,

Behind the pearly, shining gates.

More like bars of restraint.

Upsetting everything.

I wonder where it was.

I wanted to do a continuation of this but it gets harder.

And under normal circumstances and manipulative variants,

This would acceptable.

But it’s not.

Because this is not normal.

Because we can’t manipulate the variations.

Because I could be an accident.

“And you’re semi-sweet.”

As the lights of the city seem to fade out.

Driving to the end.

It could break it or make it.

And so ends the mutual understanding.

Any day now.

Caught for holding out.

And holding on.

“You could pay to close it like a casket.” – You’re Crashing But You’re No Wave.

Choke and perspire.

Gag on my race.

Fall on bathroom floor.

Aid of motion sickness.

Prevent old habits.

Rehydrate to dehydrate.

Blurred vision and sweaty palms.

Attempt balancing of hormones.

An arrogance of confusion.

Another typical family gathering.

___________________________

Though I hear their voices everyday.

I see their faces every night.

I empathize in their tales.

It’s strange.
I never realized how unreal they seem.

And yet, tonight, I will see them in person.

“Crowds are won and lost and won again but all our hearts beat for the diehards.” – Thriller

“Where do the ducks go during winter when the lake freezes?”

It’s so very tired on the inside.

With the thorn of secret efforts.

And this disease.

Places of indecisiveness,

So close to tombs of those lost.

“How cruel is the golden rule?”

“The world’s an asshole, so you’re the shit.” – Bree.

Not entirely relevant to the situation but close enough to tell that events set things off like a calm before the storm.

And hopefully somebody understands that.

Driving to graves of those long gone.

Driving to traps.

And the word is apathy of what you’re queen of.

The black comes out from the sound of voices inquiring about lovers.

And a Cinderella act of loneliness.

Empty threats from debatable kin.

Till week’s end, I have.

As usual, sticks and stone may break my bones but words just might kill me.

So rush home, face in places where girls linger their own in.

A mix of anxiety, nervousness, a pinch of tragedy and a drop in an ocean of everything else.
There’s probably more.

I miss how it was alright.

I miss Star Wars.

I miss that feeling of getting my very first FOB poster.

I miss being in a place so foreign and so strange.

I miss the music exchange.

I miss being ignorantly blissful.

I miss being able to function.

I miss that feeling.

And I won’t say what I miss the most because that’s a little more than obvious.

“I want it so bad, I’d shoot the sunshine into my veins.”

And I said I’m wishing, I said.

“I want to live like I did before all this hit.” – At The Wake.

And so the last sanctuary of this reality is fucked.

This dream,

Of you and him.

Waking up to that feeling that nobody really knows you.

And nobody wants to. An empathy for the pole in the North, if it actually had a pole.

A day that has been less than pleasent.

Except for getting access to that which preaches and I practice.

Running into the past is always a bittersweet moment.

News of actions and I guess, reactions have traveled swiftly through the grapevine your kin.

Loose lips, sink ships. It’s not lying, if you’re asking the wrong question.

Tomorrow’s forecast could/will be a pinch revelations, a breeze of disappointment and heavy delay.

The extension of a tentacle.

People should stop asking.

“Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.”

And I don’t know what I am endowed with.

Sometimes it’s everything, sometimes it’s nothing, sometimes it’s just you.

So many things to settle, so little time.

“Pitching myself for leads in other people’s dreams now.” – Intro/Lullaby.

Houses are silent.

The stillness of it all,

We wait in it.

Hopes for a good day for you.

Days like these remind one of life,

Are you there?

In a place where people spend half of their lives?

A place for the dead and living.

Are you safe?

Would it have been different?

If I could’ve changed the last six years of life.

Different dimensions of parallel lives.

“My heart is true as steel.”

But I’d drive faster than your relinquishing,

And let’s hope that road leads to a more, for lack of a better word, undisturbed way for you,

and an end to it for the restrained man who needs a catscan.

People always go with the questions,

Some let it go,

And some take it to the grave.

So, here’s to you.

The true beginning of an end.

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.” – Helena.

P.S. On a last note, the words that are subsequently placed after the title is for you.