Boredom Crafts Confusion

Sitting with an empty pen and an empty mind I stare at the clock lost for anything to do, my eyes flickering with each tick of the second hand making its rounds, saying hello to the numbers as it passes. My mind is empty but full and adventurous at the same time. I can see my past, present, and future, while simultaneously a white screen that obstructs any visions or thoughts to filter through. I’m so bored.

I’m thinking how much I want to tell them what it is I should be saying to them. Screaming out that I’m sorry I’m so stupid and unfortunate and wishing I could make their life just a little better because regardless of what they do or the bad thoughts that cross their mind, they’re meant to have the best. It’s all they deserve. I want to tell them that I love all they’ve done for me and that the love I hold in my heart for them is so strong that sometimes the power of it leaks into my veins and I ache so much because there’s no way humanly possible that the longing I want can be satisfied because whether I’m bored or not I’m just always so damn confused.

I want to pick apart a lock and twist a key. Finger a palm and pull on fingers. I want to kiss a cheek and run a hand through long hair. I want to hold the moon and cuddle the sin. I need to love the ocean and sing with the trees. I want to hear a tree fall when no one is around. Does it really make a noise? I want to touch your lips and know that you want to touch mine too. I wan to understand my haze of thoughts so that maybe one day I can get you back instead of always being bored and crafting that familiar confusion so constant in my dreadful life.

So she’ll push the leaves past the front door and wipe away the droplets collecting on her rosy cheeks and smile out the doorway at the fresh autumn waves and kiss the air: I love the way you love me.
Then he’ll smile and kiss her hair while she turns in his embrace and skips into Autumn, clothes the color of rain and feet the texture of sun and disappear: I can’t keep the way you keep me.
And she’s gone forever while he weeps in silent sobs in his heart, face understanding, but heart, body, soul, and mind forever confused. He’ll nod in recognition of these words while his cold fingertips wrap around the silver knob and close the door to a harsh winter night with no heat but the fire and blind himself with pupils glued to flames: she was all I had and I let her kiss send her away.
He’ll sigh and throw a log absentmindedly on the fire: But then again people always leave me.

And in the heating illness that shakes the momentary bliss of my mind I reach out to touch an imaginary face belonging to not only me but everyone, yet no one, and I’ll stroke the air where I see her and I’ll say her words and pretend it’s her voice I’m hearing them in and bite my lip wishing I had the courage to kiss her. She’s beauty in the flesh of a hallucination and I can feel the shards of her heart, because no matter how beautiful she is you can never fix someone that broken. So she’ll frown and leave and I’ll convince my hazy mind she never even existed.

I’ll pray to a god that never said hello and say “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. I’ve kissed the devil on the lips and brought him into my home. I never said hello to him or even introduced my name but I got the feeling he already knew. I swore to him my last hopes and dreams and he offered it all in a wheat flour sack with a handsome grin and kissed my hand and squeezed my waist, said ‘I’ll give you a life and you’ll hate it all’ so I shook my head and kissed his lips and I reached into the bag and took his gifts. I felt each one in hand palm over fingertips and licked the goals and aspirations and smiled with longing. I placed them back in his wheat flour sack and turned away with the promise of ‘Maybe another day.’”

So come one come all to this mess of screams and throw away your wildest dreams! Because everything here, presents and all and a soul to sell is my only call! I’ll gift you haze and kill you with confusion. It’s only human weakness and a killer’s illusion. I’ll let you stare at a clock of your passing time only to let you wonder and whine why your life never went as planned. So come one come all to my crushed dreams affair and ponder why you never had a strife. I’ll tempt your human weakness and kiss your fingertips because no one can resist the charm of a savior meant for death.

I hate it all and I want you dead. You’re life confused me and makes mine worthless in every extreme comparison. You’re passion is so much more than mine and it makes me want to hate you. Why is it all I can see because you’re all I can see. It’s not fair! It’s never fair! Because life is for the shittiest of people so I fit right in but you deserve much, much more so why don’t you leave. That’s not what I want. I only want you.

God help my wounded soul and take me up into a deliverance. I hate with a passion not meant for mediocrity of human light and it burns and scars me from the inside out. I can’t live like this anymore. On bended, broken hands and knees and bleeding hearts are minds I pray for you to take my life into your hands and save my killing soul.