Excerpt for The Decaying Mind and These Eyes of Mine by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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The Decaying Mind, and These Eyes of Mine

The putrefaction of one's delicate thoughts that have created stories and recollections that have been festering, fermenting and manifesting in the mind of someone who should not be here, and never should have written this.

I hope to God that you cannot relate.

A Stirring in the Dark
The thoughts continue until the perturbed sights of all things that are, and things that aren't, touch in an asphyxiating reverie and I stir worse than before. It's no wonder I can't sleep at night.

Please don’t take this from me
It's not about what I have today,

it's about what I had yesterday, and what I won't have tomorrow.

I'll cross my fingers and hope that with my next breath,

I'll at the very least still be holding onto what I have now.

Of want and what is,

it's the nothingness in-between that becomes prevalent at moments like this.

An Inevitable end
Your darkened lids and bloodshot hollow stare serves as a constant reminder that
these years have been scarred like the skin on your wrists,
my emotions as cold as the words on your lips
and this dream is as false as the beating in my chest.

My plea

In the dark, I like to lie,
just close my eyes and hope to die.
It will not stop, this sorrow weeping,
all these fears, inside are creeping.
from my veins, doubts are seeping
please God tell me, I must be sleeping.

Among the Beautiful Ruins

Behind this delightful joy or dizzying sorrow, behind every sigh that escapes my lips, whether the cause be exhaustion, or an exquisite dream betraying the emotion I am attempting to portray. Only you can be ten shades of beautiful as you ruin my day.

The Ghost I love

The frameless picture still calls from the closet, where it has remained untouched for months. It haunts me, as does the pleasantry of your voice which I swear I can still hear whispering to me on grievous nights like this, from places I have not yet come to know. The letters from the past that I can no longer bring myself to read remain tear-stained and worn. I once invited you into my dreams, my thoughts, and now I cannot sleep without memories of the days that you were still alive, here, with me.

A Worse Version of Him
He placed passion in her eyes
The kind that lays deep within her thighs
a Stockholm syndrome so profound, I could not compete
you were so tragic, lived a life so wrong
so on the day you came along
in my arms, I promised you'd belong
but you could never see past him
and oh, although I tried
you love me? no, you lied
but in you, I'd still confide
you know not what you did
and so like this sullen creeping vine, it wraps around a pain I've known before
but it was never quite like this, no never quite like this
so now I'm tossed astray
your ears deaf when I begged you to stay
and your eyes dry as you walked away
Now I have nothing left but to ask
in a voice that cracks as delicate as glass
did you ever feel anything?
your gaze did not shy away, no,
it didn't even break.

Missing Puzzle Pieces

That look you gave me as you fell into pieces in front of me like a broken puzzle begged, “please help put me back together.“ You never had to ask, you knew I would be there, and we shouldn’t have let it get that bad. I worked on it, we worked on it, we worked on you so lovingly and patiently. We laboured and grew, as piece by piece we gently fit it all back into place and you were made whole again. I watched as you mended, you became better… you became perfect, you were better than me. We lived happily in this moment for a while until the days came where you had to watch, saddened and horrified as I started crumbling myself right in front of you, and I became the worst version of who I never wanted to be. You stayed with me during my descent, struggling, panicking while desperately picking up the pieces that I hadn't even realized and refused to admit that I was losing. You tried with everything you had to hold those fracturing pieces in place while attempting to pick up the ones that had already fallen. The parts of me started crumbling faster and faster, the pieces getting bigger and I wasn't able to see or acknowledge the fact that I was breaking down and falling apart. I had lost so many pieces that you could hardly recognize me anymore. I refused your help and the pieces that had been falling became too heavy for you to pick up any longer. You couldn't wait around for me to hit the bottom, as this was taking its toll on you. When I reached bottom and realized where I was and what I had become, I'm afraid there weren't enough pieces left of me to put myself together. I was but a few shards and a damaged heart. When I was finally able to admit that I needed you, you were no longer there. It was too late, you had moved on and nobody could blame you after what I had done to you. I see you're doing much better now since you’ve gone, and that's comforting to know. I still hear about you from time to time while I'm still down here struggling to pick up these pieces. A few years have gone by and I think of you daily. It's hard loving a person that you know no longer thinks about you. There's no point in even asking if you ever miss me anymore, and I know you’re better off this way.

How the Silence has Changed

As my mind wanders to a remorseful, yet cherished daydream, I recall the lazy afternoons where I smiled to see the inspirations in your head on display across my body.

And though the drawings have been long since scrubbed away from this all too familiar flesh, I can still see all the hearts and love notes that once covered my skin that is now only burdened by calluses, cuts, scars, and dirt. I will never forget the silence in which we once happily sat.

Oh, how different it was than the silence that I would unknowingly come to know.

I Never Really Wanted it That Much Anyway

Through blurred vision and watering eyes, we are held down and forced to watch reality slit the throats of our dreams and aspirations.

As the decades go by, we put Guinevere like desires into the ground, bury them deep, and with heavy thoughts and dragging feet we slowly walk away.

Listening to children talk about what they want to be when they grow up, and display the hopes they hold closest to their hearts, it breaks mine to know that they are in for the greatest disappointment.

We've all done such a magnificent job at hiding the bodies of the people we wanted to become.

Is this too much to ask?

Another night, these thoughts in my head, these regrets in my heart. Another breath comes out a sigh. I've Watched the sunrise a few too many times.
Another heartbeat, damn it for trying.
My eyes lust to watch the blood pour from my wrists, my body desires for its veins to rust shut and for this heart to cease. This vessel, sore, scarred, and bruised is ready to return to the earth. This mind has poisoned itself with years of constant and relentless self-abuse, this body is worn down and damaged. My smile is nonexistent, and my soul is just tired and ready for the waiting room.

I Guess I’ll Leave you be

Is what I've done so unforgivable?

Is what I’ve meant to you so forgettable and easily replaceable?

What is the point of these memories?

Reflecting and regretting has never gotten me far,

it just hurts.

Your silence is very loud and clear, and without receiving your message,

I got the message.

An Abandoned Experiment
Are you there God? are we alone?
the people down here, lifeless as stone.

What happened to humanity, all these atrocities we commit

Slaves to our vices, our temptations, we easily submit

We lie to ourselves and to one another

Our selfishness is the only thing we seem to nurture

gone are my promises, there are none worth making
and the ones I've made, at my feet, just start breaking
I'm sorry to all, what do you want me to say?
when tomorrow comes, it will be just another day.

Hiding Bodies

I'd like to say I did everything I could, that I tried so hard and gave it my all, but I know that isn't true. If I had spent half the time searching as I have spent digging this hole, who knows what I could have found, or what I could have done. Maybe I could have saved him. This hole I dig, deeper and deeper it gets each passing year, and each day my body grows more tiresome, and the weight of this shovel almost unbearable. For years now, decades even, I have stood in this field, this field where nothing is all there is, and that is all it's ever known. The dried cracked dirt that surrounds my feet, so desolate, it looks as if nothing has ever grown here, and most likely nothing ever will. The longer I stay out here, I notice that nothing changes, and the sun never rises. I will stand out here for years to come and continue to dig as I do not know how deep this hole will need to be. I wish I could say that I am alone out here, but it appears that I was not the only one who was foolish enough to stray so far and end up in this despair. I can see the silhouettes of strangers in the distance, thousands of them on the horizon, and the piles of all the bodies they need to bury. They are too far for me to make out any faces, or to bother calling out to them, but once in awhile I catch the gleam of a shovel, the glint of the guilt in one's eyes, or sometimes I'll just watch as one of them collapses on the ground as the misery overwhelms. It would appear that we are all out here for the same purpose. So many of us, what a shame. The bodies I have dragged out here, it's not right. Some so young, and others so unbearably heavy. I hope they rest in peace, for I could have known them all so well. I watched in bitter lament as they all withered and died, so many of them I had never even given a chance. I wish at least one of them would have put up a fight, I wish just one of them had gotten away, but it appears I was very thorough and merciless as I watched them die. Is this my fault? am I to take all the blame? What of the stillborns and the ones who stayed silent? I guess they too suffered as I sat idly by and neglected all they could be. I have hidden so many bodies, but before I die, I will bury one more.

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