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Wrong

I cannot find the fire. You know that flame of inspiration, of passion of some sort of eternal clarity; yeah I am not sure it exists. Maybe everything surrounding us is too ordinary, too engrained in our human consciousness that we are rarely surprised anymore. Every once in a while and for a brief duration of time I gather a warmness that holds the prospects of magic, but it soon disappears into pure mundane bits, moments on my digital clock. I forget, let go and move on.
Except this act of moving on leaves me with an unrequited longing, as though something so essential yet so elusive is missing from my life.
I change, sometimes too often and too untethered for my own good. I seem to have become professionally accustomed to my ever widening distance from everything and everybody. So what is the outcome of the changing nature of a solitary being? Do I change my surroundings every time my compass mutates or am I so detached that I unfold and diverge all upon myself in my own space?
I am subdued by a softness possibly a weakness or a fragility so thin it wraps me like a primary skin, it is so imperfect, porous and permeable; it is almost transparent. But I feel naked without it, and nudity is never just skin deep.
Slowly and sheepishly I keep interrupting myself with doubts and thoughts of bravery, maybe I can be that courageous person too? Maybe a second skin never hurt anybody. I held that thought until I believed it and I began sewing over that ethereal fragility a much more coarse and rigid skin. I decided that I cannot go into a world so unprepared, so uncovered; I had to leave no trace of the weakling in me. And that is how I sense a world that is not as friendly as I hoped it would be. First contact with an unmoved, reflective and impermeable surface, and second contact dampens a softness and a naivety in me I work so hard to protect from tearing at the seams.
I remain in a conversation that is one sided and double edged. I converse with few words that run the risk of arriving breathless and meaningless by the time my exchange is done.
I hope and I dream of bigger and better words possibly even novels and worlds more welcoming of fire and magic. I want days that are extraordinary and fueled with imperfection and credibility so shameless and contradictory. I want to be wrong, I have to be wrong.

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Come lay with me

Come lay with me and i will tell you my secret. Come rest your head and you will love my story. Come lay with me and trust only my words. See love i know so much, more than i want to. I can shake your world and keep you sane. I can smash up the walls, rip out the floors and leave you there. I can so much; except i dont.
Come lay with me let me see you, let me touch innocence and drain out the good. Give me your peace and i shall give you my chaos. Let me tell you what you want to hear while i lie to you and pretend i feel. Let me give you what you have never had while i steal what i need. Let me catch you and let me love, everything you are and everything im not.
Come watch me undress my mind, while i rest in your own, let me dwell in your storm while i hide from the sun. Give me hypocrisy and i shall tell you my truth. Trust me with your life while i cry for my own. Dance to my song and take my music; live between the lines and find meaning for yourself while i search for mine.
Let me fill you and fulfill your every desire, let me chain your passion unto my own then watch me overwhelm you. Scratch through my surface and find no surprise, look into my eyes and see yourself.
Love my contradiction, and need my destruction, obsess about my mind and live for my body. Crave my sound and touch my wreckage. Unwind my terror and settle my battles; take my silence and find my faith.
Come lay with me and i will tell you my secrets, come dwell in me and change my story.

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Contradiction

Who reassures me in the middle of the night when all my demons wake up? Who will take me in when i feel absolutely out of place?
Where are you? They say you save people, they say you are good! They say you were,are and always will be looking out for lost souls.
They say many things, they even lie. Do you know that? Do you know they speak of goodness and truth when they are the filth of humanity?
See, i love you, i was raised to do so, and i thank you whenever i get the chance, i even talk to you and wonder;if at the end of the day you are me and you want me to find you.
I think i know where you are, i just am afraid of you, for if you are me then i am powerful, and that is foreign to me.
See, i love you, i look for you in everything and everywhere. Sometimes i find you in beautiful words, and ideas. Other times i find you but look away, because you disappointed me.
I think of you and i write, for that is the closest to self purification i can get. And you are pure so maybe you find me at times like this.
I think i am going mad, well insane. I think i do this to myself and my thoughts just observe. I feed them and feed them until they weigh me down, and i go on a rampage looking for you!
Then again, i might be one of the few sane ones because i realize the grandness of having such a mind, such a load. I drown so deep that the only way out is reading my words to myself.
I do not think that i am any more significant than any creature in the world. I existed and i had no choice in that matter, my job is to exist the best way i could.
My music sets me alive, so do my books. My love is destructive yet healing. Simplicity keeps me afloat yet depth calls for me, it misses me and willingly i jump back in. Until i surface after writing such a mess. And realize contradiction.