I used to write when the world slept
When the world dreamt,
I wrote out my waking nightmare
A twisted reality strained and stranded between fiction and fact
On my back, I painted the ceiling with my struggles and fancies
And stood up to lean over a lighted keyboard
My sounding board
That was simply an echo of myself, a reflection
Reverberating what was neither known or felt
Or never known if truly felt
But simply oozed out like poison, like medicine
Now, I write while the sun is up
Without the protection of a dark veil to hide my face
Visible, vulnerable to the rules and mercies of men
Open to assault
But why do the ways of men fear me more than my demons?
Is it their sweet acceptance and praise for my weaknesses?
For demons lie, but lie sweetly
Offering me words of affection within their webs of confinement, a narcissistic bind
They seduce me to capture my soul — their purpose, their plan
The vicious ways of men, however, slice and dice and mutilate, for what reason?
Because it hurts
Because they hurt
Because we are all hurting
It’s all broken, gone to an earth-bound hell
And yet, this is what I have chosen
This was my choice; is my choice
For the world of the light hosts the same people of the dark
Just in different time zones; half a rotation away
So I will call out to them from the light into the night, so that I can see clearly
So I can see myself more definitely
To find and feel and fell my fear and hurt for the sake of theirs
To touch even one life
For, hell is not the only dimension that is earth-bound,
But Heaven came down as well
And I intend to cause some damage to my demons where the two meet
So, let’s lean in
Fear is there; so be it
Let it not be so forever
But in the meantime, let it be the reminder to look for Heaven amongst the hell