MY JOURNEY-----Day 3---- UNTITLED THUS FAR

Lightly, he brushes his lips against hers
Leaving a slightly sweet yet ashy residual behind.
Yearning for her to lick her lips
Ingesting his taste,
Into her.
He runs his fingertips gently down her cheek,
Tracing her mild frame
Down her neck,
Meeting her collar bone before finding the inside of her elbow
He draws concentric circles before injecting potent nectar into her already swollen veins.
He loves her.
Cant you see,
He needs her.
Open your eyes.
He cant live without her.
His existence relies solely upon her body being able to withstand the daily insertion of poison
Mixing with her blood,
Becoming one with her body.
She- his surrogate mother,
Carrying his toxins full term
Before birthing his venomous child,
Regurgitating his residue.
He has to have her.
Nothing so beautiful as her pale transparent skin
Stretched thin
Over her bones and small lumps of muscle
Pulled taut revealing every artery and vein.
His drug a concoction so strong
Her blood pumps so hard against the walls of her heart
He can see it beat through her chest.
Resting only for seconds before he administers another round of himself into her.
Eyes fling open
Wide with shock.
Don't you see that she needs him?
His desire to meet her needs ran so deep within him
He had no choice.
No other choice but to give her more.
Nobody can love her like him.
Her body convulses against the bed
Ropes digging in
To her paper thin
Skin
Just a little more.
Her deep red blood dripping on sheets.
He could have sworn he had told her before
Not to bleed anymore.
He lights another cigarette
Inhaling the thick smoke deep into his lungs
holding it within just long enough for his nerves to calm
As he crushed himself to a powder form
Spooning himself mixed with sugar water between her tightly drawn lips.
That will teach her.
If only he didn't love her so much.
She gasps for air.
His smile widens.
She writhes in misery.
His heart skips a beat.
Tears stream down her face in agony.
He cries tears of joy.
He cant find the words to express how much he loves her.
She stops.
She stops moving.
Her heart no longer visibly beating through her rib cage.
He is paralyzed.
She is gone.
His tears of joy replaced with tears of anger.
He had once again loved another woman to death.
He tries frantically to revive her.
He needs her.
He cant exist without her.
He has to have her.
She doesn't respond.
So he packs his belongings,
Leaving his drugs scattered across the floor,
Never too worried about needing more.
For he is his own supplier,
his drugs, pieces of him.
An endless supply of his poison called HATE,
In magnitudes so great,
He can spread it with ease.
In his path he leaves tainted needles
In hopes that innocent bystanders will forget to watch their feet,
Falling victim to him,
He is dependent on them.
Only capable of thriving when he is
Infiltrating souls,
Destroying lives.
Desolating countries.
And his favorite is she,
Is the home of the brave
The land of the free.

MY JOURNEY-----Day 2---- Sweet-N-Low

Sweet-N-Low

She must be a diabetic.
The way she craves sugar.
Her insulin doesn't do her justice
Because sugars sweetness she's always lacking.
Hacking up the residual of failed attempts to keep sweet-n-low down
Her body sensing its inability to emmulate real
Sugar, so sweet it coursed through her veins.
Pains of withdraw
Coercing her body into convulsions
So severe she sips coffee sweetened with the next best thing.
Sweet-N-Low.
Convincing her mind and soul
That its good enough.
Swallowing quickly so the lack of sweetness cannot be detected,
Its bitter aftertaste ignored,
For her pantry houses that original sugar no more.
Only the occasional bleached white grain found swept into corners
And spotted under the edges of the living room rug,
These little mounds
Found
Of the seemingly forbidden treat
Are too tainted to taste so sweet.
So again the sugar substitute rests at her feet.
Sweet-N-Low.
Though suitable for the time being
Still doesn't harness the correct characteristics to quench her yearn
For sugar.
A substitute soon substituted by Equal and Splenda in hopes to come closer,
Nearer
Dearer
To the original.
None recreating that euphoric high induced by the that sultry sweet sugar.
See his love was so sweet,
She feared she would never meet,
Another whose love could beat
His sugar.
His pure, refined, white crystal sugar.
Mounds of his love poured through hour glasses just as time passed,
But soon it came to be that their time ran out.
Sugar replaced by opaque powder so fine,
That through the hour glasses restrictions
It passed with ease.
Time paced faster than God meant for it to be,
This man's love, just wasn't as sweet.
Her dependency on sugar had her system functioning in a function so dysfunctional
That she forgot self control.
Diabetic by default
Yet self sustaining in nature.
Chemical dependencies too deep to realize that even sugar isn't as sweet,
As pure cane freshly reaped
From the earths soil.
The true prototype from which even sugar is derived.
The day will come
In which that pure cane touches her tongue.
Filtering through hour glasses so slow,
That times seems to stop.
So sweet,
That nothing can soothe
Her heart like he.
His love the only kind of sugar she needs.

MY JOURNEY-----Day 1

So I start my 23 day writing spree in an awkward place. Though I wished I would have started off with a poem of epic proportions, my heart is not in it. Emotionally drained as I am, I have not come to a point where my brain and heart and coordinate in a fashion that produces beautiful work. So instead I write. Just type away as my thoughts laden with underlying emotions present themselves to the paper. My life as a whirlwind is dying down and though I would usually describe this aftermath as standing among the debris, I have no sentiments that I have created a disaster. Though some things felt terribly wrong, nothing has me to the breaking point. I am stronger. I am healthier. I am almost happier. But I most certainly more free. Not that anyone or any one thing kept me chained, but the extent of my circumstances kept me locked in a metaphorical cage from which I was too scared to escape. Though never locked, I knew reality was on the other side of the bars, and it was not a reality I was willing or desiring to face. So I remained caged. For the longest time I was caged. And caged contently at that. But with every new experience comes a time for it to end. To use the lessons learned to better yourself. See, life is a chain of cycles. We experience times of observance, where lessons are learned and experiences are sought, and a time of action, where lessons learned are applied to your past, present, and future. My time of incarceration was one of observance, and more importantly I observed myself from the outside in. For over a year I observed. I had intermittent periods of growth. Times where I stepped out of the cage. Went for a walk. Experienced and grew. And these next 22 days will serve as my reflection. Giving me a chance to utilize the past year of my life and create a new me. Or maybe even find the me that has always been there, under the layers of a tough exterior, and perfect fascade. But at the start of this journey of reflection, I am emotionally drained. The biggest source of the drain lies in my realization that though substitutions sometimes come very close to the original, they are just that, substitutions. And though I thought substituting would work, would absolve this ache, it only made me hurt in a different way. The only thing better than a substitution is the introduction of something new. Something completely different from the rest. Something so off canter that it is refreshing and beautiful. But that beauty is not found in leftovers or spoiled milk. That beauty is not found in old scars or healing wounds. That beauty is not found in dried tears or recently swollen eyes. That beauty can only be found in things never experienced before, never seen before, never felt before. It is this newness that I seek, I yearn, I need. Substitutions are a dangerous thing; now I know.