I am torn between two lovers

Both are pure as Angels' hearts

They pull me in opposite directions

Either way I'd smile

One takes away my sanity

The other pours passion into my soul

One drains away my energy

The other soothes my unseen sorrows

Both could not help me, though

To survive in this cruel world

Because both makes me no money

Unless I'm really really good

"Create, if it's the only thing you do," 

one whispers.

"Think of all the damage you're doing!" 

scowls the other.

"Make art. It's what keeps you grounded."

"Make a difference. Do something for planet earth!"

And so I'm sat here writing

succumbing to Creating, just for a minute

Before I go back to reading

And fill my brain with knowledge

If I could only

just step away from it all

And live wherever I wanted

And maybe write a song

We all live in our own pace

And we sometimes end up in the wrong place

But who's to say what's right for us

Until we finally begin to choose

Who's to know how long we have

If we do not take time for ourselves

We might end up with things undone

And words unsung

Gestures unread

Souls unkissed

And hearts untouched by the razor blade

Home is nothing more than a long ago memory. It is a time that is gone, because all those I shared it with, save one, are gone as well. It was a time of love and joy, but one that now only lives as nostalgia in my mind.

I can not go back. I can not bring them to me. I can only go to them...and one day I will.

Addiction

Cocaine, pills, cigarette's, people.

They are all an addiction.

An addiction to try to end the pain.

The pain doesn't stop though. It never goes away, never ceases to appear. I think the worst part is that the drugs, they numb the pain and so do the people for a while. Until they become what is causing you pain. Human beings hurt worst of all, out of all the depression and sadness, humans are the most disappointing. We are so disposable. People bring you in, make you feel and then drop you like a bad habit. They drop you like nothing. It makes you feel worthless. I'm used to coming second, no not even second, tenth to everyone else. There is always someone better than me, and no one ever chooses me over someone else. I'm used to being the last option, the lonely option. It's hard not to be sad when no one ever chooses you first. I want to be the girl someone loves unconditionally, the girl Someone can't imagine there lives without. The girl who someone is in love with and the girl someone can picture being with for a life time. I want to be that girl. Tenth place doesn't make it easy to be that for someone.

Here's what I, the humble fox have observed of the human condition:

Babies and children ARE the instruction books. They are so simple and funny and free!

But you grown up humans, all you ever want to do is put things in boxes, compartmentalize everyone and label everything to death!

You take great children with awesome spirits and you break them into a million splinters all because certain ones don't fit your perfect programme or your box or they don't look a certain way or slouch to much, or heaven forbid, they may be homeless children!!!!!

And grown up Christians are the worst at compassion! Aren't they supposed to be Christ like? Ha!

This humble Fox has witnessed some of the ugliest behavior by "Christians" yet they want to point fingers at others.

Children don't care bout color, religion, or race.

They don't care who's yo daddy, yo mamma or yo auntie. All they care bout is eating and playing and a safe warm bed.

There's your instruction book that's all you need to know.

Simple.

The silence is deafening sometimes. Your brain is screaming, pacing back and forth. Your mouth doesn't move. You stay quiet. You sit on your bed covered by a thick layer. The room is quiet, the house is quiet and you realize how alone you are. The silence is peaceful but at the same time it makes you want to just yell until all the air dissipates from your lungs. Just to hear something, anything other than the demons inside of you. They get so loud sometimes, they tell you that you aren't good enough, that you'll never go anywhere in this lifetime, never be productive. They tell you how ugly you are, how fat, how useless. Your brain has been taken over by a parasite. A parasite with no cure. You pop antidepressants like they are oxy. Your brain shuts down every night at four in the morning, and you wake up at noon. It never stops, the panic, the tortuous thinking. It hits you like a recklessly moving car with a drunk driver behind the wheel. It hits you and the world stops. The words don't leave your mouth but the words never stop in your brain. The silence is deafening.