Doors-Ruby Red References.

I see the creases or are the cracks in the sidewalk as I throttle down memory lane. Touche, Cliche as it sounds it describes those crisp December mornings when warming the car signified a long day's journey and confusion laced the clarity. Back then I knew what I wanted, was nothing more than to want-more of myself, from myself, by myself.

And now, fast forward a few hundred minutes and thousand seconds to the place, which has no name-perhaps a door, an overbearing archaic door, with black metal hinges which is closed off to the world. Which has no other entrance but that which is before me. How do I get through?

And then a key, hidden, which was carved out to serve a purpose other than its own. A key which knows no bounds and sees no circumstances, which doesn't allow and doesn't reject.

Cliche, Touche-a door and key. Its like a soul without a face and a face without a name. A lost soul with a nameless face only to be discovered inadvertently in some century's 42nd hour remotely, in a floating haven.Heaven.

But when if not now.

Only time can bring about the marriage, in the interim the rust and dust cover the hinges and metal leaving the locked-impenetrable.

Rumi

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

Clarity

"Will I be remembered as an alphabet in civilization's kindergarten or but a numeral on time's tombstone?"

Lost.

I'm searching within my realm of the day when I became a stranger to myself. The moment in my existence where I ceased to be the person they expected me to be and became a version of someone I didn't care much for.

I wonder when that change took place, that made me smarter than I really was, quicker than I really walked, and sharper than my dull self could allow. That moment when I stopped being nice and kind and became hard and impenetrable.

I am she who no one knows. Not even the best version of me can ever recognize because the best which should have been has gone. Tempers are shorter, arguments are longer and kindness is hastened.

What was once glamorous is now real, and tangible; but illusions fade into the backdrop of that which we consider life. Unfailing and unknowing,confused.

I am half lost, half dazed, walking in a direction with no destination-once it existed but now it somehow has faded into the horizon leading me-with my rags dragging and face muddied sliding my way into the unknown.. Kingdoms, domains and all other trains.

Lost.

Malignant Love

I want a malignant kind of love.

A love that consumes and saddens. A love that is so painful that the only joy that can be sucked from it, is in the every day appreciation of deliberate imperfections. A love that makes the world stop in its unfairness, in its ability to take over and create an illusion of hope when the inevitable is inevitable.

A malignant kind of love, that challenges me to live, in the now for ever because tomorrow may or may not be. A challenge to keep hope and bask in the day not of the uncertainty but of the unknowing. The kind of love that makes me questions the past, but not the future.

A malignant kind of love that intrigues me to get to know myself, and forces me to question all that I ever was or thought I could be. A love that pushes me to fight for what is right and fend off what is wrong, the kind of love that makes questioning a part of my routine-- and answering part of the enigma.

A malignant kind of love that rescues me in my shortfalls, and stops me from falling into the pitfalls of my soul. A love that caresses, and softens my hard exterior and opens my mind to love and be loved.

A malignant kind of love, that has no cure, but love itself. The only antidote would be more of the same, until it consumes to a point of death, when all that is left, is a memory in the mind of those left behind, of a time which was spent in a state of perpetual bliss, because the inevitable came true.

I want a malignant kind of love.

X & Y

When the lights go off and color consumes, it touches the soul in a way that only that special sound linked to that special memory can evoke. The green and red and blue and purple all linked to moments, thoughts, signals which dictated a portion of this summer.

Officially its over. The months, which began with a big bang have ended leaving behind months of confusion and loss; of words, memories, a future?

And on to fall, where the yellow foliage make put me in my place and scientists try to find solutions to problems which cause wars while the clocks tick away time and pick on the hungry green and hazel eyes of children who don't know what life can be like. What if you can't be fixed and are stuck til kingdom come in a life which was chosen for you, while you were off pursuing your broken dreams?

I'll wait for the lights to guide me home, and ignite my bones, because every step that I take can be my biggest mistake- but its still mine to take to regret or embrace.

Its the ABC's of life which make the X & Y's worth risking.

Tonight I'll look at the stars and how they shine for me and all the things I do.