Your love.

mistladz — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 04:46:53 +0000

And still I am a child of something more.
Formed and fashioned by and for a storm of wild grace
Unimagined and uncalled for
Scandalously unwarranted and undeserved
For truly I am not my own.

This love has called me out
Has lead me away and swept me up
Oh, to be one with Glory
To know the truth of light and life
To come undone in the presence of all that I was intended to be.

But it was the embrace that was shattering afterall
Accepted, though not there yet.
I was sought and seen and not found wanting.
You saw it fit to capture my attention and fix my eyes
On the one thing worth everything I am not-

You.

I am because you are and were and will forever be.
Every crippled cause of my own, mistaken to glitter,
Has been graciously wrecked, ravaged, destroyed, and rebuilt.
Recreated to appear a little more like you.
An expected outcome of any encounter
For your beauty intoxicates and swells
Into the deepest part of me and my fragile attempts
At satisfaction.

You are undeniably lovely and I am continually surprised
At how easily I forget this.
How often I stop looking and fix my gaze on something less.
And the longer I am away, the smaller I become.
Until I simply cannot.
Cannot breathe, cannot live, cannot exist
Without you.

You call me yours and you are mine.
What more is there?
If that does not define, nothing else ever will.
I have been renamed, renewed, restored.
Everything has been made new and now, at last, I see and know
The beauty to be found in my limitations
For you exceed them far greater than I could ever fathom.
And all that is yours anyway is placed right where it belongs

At Your feet
And in your hands.
Which is where I find my peace to just rest.
And just be.
To rest and be.

Though condemnation calls out my harlotry
And ever elusive answers tempt me to fear…
Still, I am a child of something more.
And truly, I am not my own.
Nor will I ever be.

Have to, need to.

mistladz — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 04:42:08 +0000

I have to write. I need to write. I can’t be isolated among my thoughts, trapped in my own mind alone any longer. I don’t know if anyone will read this, but that is inconsequential. At least by putting my thoughts down on paper, so to speak, they are tangible. Maybe I can achieve some type of organization and some sort of freedom from the chaos that is my mind. Right now I feel as if my thoughts and my life are not my own. I am not in control. I am simply a bystander, watching and observing, unable to intervene. A silent, helpless prisoner to my own consciousness. I think perhaps I am going crazy. If not going crazy, then I am at least tapping into a part of my brain that has never before been acknowledged or used. There is no organization, rhyme or reason to the constant train of thoughts rushing through my brain, and the only thing I know for sure- the only thing I am absolutely certain of- is that that which once gave my life meaning does not give it meaning or purpose any longer. I feel like a single-celled organism unable to move of my own free will. I am simply planktonic- floating along with the currents and tides. I do not determine my direction, forces outside of my control dictate my movement. I am trapped in a literal purgatory from which there is no obvious escape. Those things that I once held dear, those things that once gave me purpose have been revealed for what they truly are- meaningless ideologies that I thought were uniquely mine but in reality are naive fantasies that can never be realized in the world in which we live.

Best friend, i’m not ready yet.

mistladz — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 04:58:00 +0000

As I sit across from my best friend
I try to will the words from my chest out
While chewing my tomato sandwich
As you go on about your marriage
And how happy you are
And what the baby’s name will be
And how you can’t wait for me to find a man

The fact is
I’ll never find a man
Because I’ve already found a woman
And I don’t know what you’ll think
I don’t know if you’ll accept us
So the pressure is building up
The words are coming up
I swallow and say

“Wanna get dessert?”

Because I’m not ready for you to not be there.

Can my words speak to you like a picture?

mistladz — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 04:37:17 +0000

I lack the inspiration to write or create nowadays
Its just that can’t find the right words or the pictures
To explain to you personally
Its just to hard to explain in words
as I just want to shout it all to you
What you do to me
What you make me feel
I’m such a scared child

I want to show you what, I can do
I’ve always admired you
Doing everything without a mistake
A Jack of All Trades
So I wonder whats your hidden talent? A secret?
Do you want to know mines?
Or did you already know it from the start?

I have no armor to protect me
Since my talents do nothing, but fade away
Do I really have any talents to show?
I mean, all I really do is dream, image them the impossible
Thoughts that could become something
Special in ones life, if it was possible

But a recurring dream keeps on lingering
A nightmare preharps was it?
The memoirs are underground
Even in its darkness soil, its still nostalgic
I can still hear the words from above me
Their words sharp like a sword through my heart

Though you shine them away
With your deep com voice, that no one can ever
stand down too. Cause they admire you so much now.
This seems so familiar
Has this happened before somewhere?
In a fairytale maybe?
A knight of white protecting his princess the tale was, maybe?

I remember, when I was younger
I had a knight, that came to my rescue
He was affectionate and brave for his small age
I never thought anyone at that time could be like him
So mature, so giving.
Perfection in every way none of these selfish children could be
Are you the same? Are you him?

I’m still that same girl
With long black hair
With the same dark brown eyes
They were almost to ebony
You could see the drive of emotions going through them
Baggy and dark clothes for a usually wear
These all matched me so well, you could say

I was a mixtures of sadness, confused feelings
All packed together in my little box
Insecure of the credits I would get from people
Quiet for people always thought I was a bother
Melancholic cause I knew no one would ever call me out
I looked different, I acted different but I’m still the same

Such a blue adolescent they would say
I could them if I stood quiet enough
The whole public would spread it around
It was a regular crowd but everyone knew each other
They shunned down anyone
who they think couldn’t be acceptable
They didn’t want me
No one did, I was only along for the ride

So, I prayed for something to come
A angel, A sign, A miracle to come fourth
But the years grew, everything grew worse
It was hard to rise from the down
Since no one was there to led me a hand
Their was times when I got up and was able to move
But I got pushed down and hurt

Only to make my seemly imaginary prayers not real
To make me not believe anymore as the days grew
I knew fantasy could never do well with reality
But I still kept on praying
Though I kept on losing more and more hope
Until something happened
You happened, appeared out of heavens gate

Out of no where in this small village
Your beauty was greatly recognizable
Your words where stunning in a poetic way
All of it captured me, it captured my full attention to you
But you must have not noticed me spying on you
When you first came
Though I don’t blame you if you think its rude

Its was just so hard to ignore you
As the questions in my mind started to flutter around
As well my heart that skipped each beat as you went pass me
My stomach that kept on growing with butterflies that went crazy in my insides
Only moved around when you were around me
You were appceted with ease from all those
And gladly returned the favor

I wonder what happened to that small boy
I knew before?
I never saw him after that incident again
Maybe he left? This questions still lingers in my mind

As curiosity of you kept on moving and growing
My longer for you only got more impatient
But you started finally took on notice of the circumstances
You kept on saving me from the crowds
You gave me the strength to look in the mirrors again
As you whispered words of altruism
I couldn’t help but feel that I was on top of the world

You are my savior if not whom?
My white knight if not an angel?
I can finally bury the past and take each step slowly
Gaining more light on my pale skin
My eyes telling a greater story
My lips curving more upward for a laugh
You were the one who gave me the talent to write my heart out

But could this all be only for my well-being?
Did you truly mean your own words?
Do you sincerely love me as I do to you?
Will you not shun me down like the others before?
I don’t want to look in those mirrors again, alone
I don’t want my reflection to be a ugly one
I’m scared of what it will repeat back

I want my words to speak to you
If not just image me happy

The Day I Ceased To Exist.

mistladz — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 00:39:17 +0000

and i’m no good for you anyway i’m too neurotic too self-absorbed too selfish and you’re too pure your soul is too pure and next to it mine is soiled and filthy and grey. i’m a mess of emotions they spill from me like the geysers at the hot springs that we will never see together. you call me and say are you okay did i upset you did i devastate you i don’t want to hurt you. and i bite the inside of my cheek and i say no i’m not upset i’m not hurt i’m not devastated. i’m not i’m not i’m not. i am nothing. without you i don’t exist. i hang up the phone and cease to exist.

Marital Bliss.

mistladz — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 00:29:58 +0000

I could never marry somebody who doesn’t share at least some of my passions.

I’m stubborn, opinionated, and strong-willed enough for a thousand armies. While I understand that is a lot to handle with, I also don’t think you should apply for this sort of job if you feel under-qualified because sooner or later one of us is going to know something isn’t working.

I’ll give you the best friend you never had. I’ll give you a heart so big you can hardly hold it. I’ll give you understanding and loyalty like you never knew you needed.

But there are four men in my life you never try to take down and you never try to talk me away from: my dad, Elvis, Sinatra, and James Bond.

Because let’s face it. Sometimes they can’t make anything better than the originals and a girl’s gotta love her vintage. They say diamond’s are a girl’s best friend. These men are mine.

Writer’s Block

mistladz — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 04:48:08 +0000

Writing is a lot like sex. Your muse comes to you, wrapped in a dark cloak of mystery, and whispers to you seductively of colorful characters from distant lands. He nibbles delicately at your brain until you can no longer bear the hunger and seize him in a frenzy of passion. He plants his seed within you, and it grows slowly into a living, breathing being for you to nurture.

Unfortunately, there are times when your muse deserts you, destroying your desire for him and, eventually, the soul of your beautiful creation. It’s during these times that you find yourself sitting at your computer at 5:30 a.m., consuming unhealthy amounts of caffeine and struggling to coerce your exhausted brain into producing a piece of halfway decent writing.

I’ve often wondered why I put myself through this torture. I lost my passion for writing a long time ago. I write about the spoiled, selfish goddess who learns the meaning of love and friendship when she’s exiled to the mortal realm, but her discovery brings me no joy. I write about the naive, optimistic peasant girl who’s seduced by evil and becomes a cold, ruthless murderer, but I don’t mourn the loss of her former self. I feel nothing for either of them. This is hardly surprising, considering that they’re not the products of passion, but of rape.

Although the act disgusts me, I rape my muse again and again. All writers must become rapists at some point. When our muses run out on us, we have to hunt them down and beat them into submission. The children of such violent unions are tragically deformed, but with the proper amount of affection, they can grow to be just as beautiful as their brothers and sisters.

Profound disappointment.

mistladz — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 17:07:09 +0000

Either people have an incredible tendency to disappoint or I overestimate them. Love is not a sometimes thing. It is an always thing. And you can only love so many people before you’re lying about who it is you really love.

One will never read.

mistladz — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 08:40:43 +0000

There is too much to say to put in these measly sentences.

My words would love to dance then to lye line by line.

Words of sorrow,

words of joy,

words of apathy,

words of love,

words of hate,

words of everything you say to me.

Yes, they contradict, but like a being they are all different.

Coming from me they are nothing, but reminders of past reflections.

But as you read you connect or disconnect.

My words could be reassuring to one and pointless to another.

The thing is that I write for one and that one will never read my words.

What a downer it can be to reminded that until they read my words all I will be is a pathetic bag of meat.

For now I post my frustrations and dreams online for others and maybe just maybe for that one to be guided by fate and find my words.

The only problem is that I don’t believe in fate.

Humanity.

mistladz — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 08:34:04 +0000

humanity is probably the most foul, disgusting, dirty species. we are by far the most selfish, narcissistic, self-serving, loathing, prejudiced, diseased species. we are supposed to be the smartest but we are also the most uncivilized.

family is nothing. friends. love. none of those exist. they are all aspects of society, not the soul. there is not one person in this world i would trust to be there for me in any condition. when you have to choose two paths you always choose the one best for you and not the other person. no way around it.

we gossip and we lie and we hit and tease and trash. we’re destructive and cruel, vicious and bitter. it has never been a matter of kind and unkind, right and wrong. it is a matter of what is good for ourselves as opposed to the masses. people’s position on good and evil always changes based on what position they are in.

rules don’t exist. we bend them. we break them. we go through them. we only follow them when they aid our cause. we are only faithful when it serves our purpose. we are only kind to others when it does no damage to ourselves.

unconditional love, unbending morality, compassion in spite of hatred, these things are all myths. myths created by mankind to help us better deal with the selfish decisions we make on a daily basis. myths to add a little color to a black and white world where light only shines on ourselves and others are only there for the purpose of making our worlds unempty. everything is for the individual. nothing is for the common good.

we are all the victims and villains of our own stupidity, ourselves, and each other.