Pseudopathy

I hope
this is what you wanted.

I hope you wanted to see me die.
I hope you actually stopped loving me that day.
I hope I bear no attraction, no ounce of beauty, in my body.
I hope you never loved me.
Just like you said.

No one sees you as well as I do.
No one sees the way you
act like you care
almost like you actually feel it
it's like you really feel it
and then you shred it apart
like it's nothing
when addressing the mind.

No one sees the sharp teeth you bare.
The glistening, dragon eyes you use.
The venomous tongue;
The sharp edges of your structure;
The knives on your fingertips;
The killer in your heart;
The apathy in your soul.

You murderer.
You monster.
Killer.
Psychopath.
Lunatic.
Freak.

My favorite person.
My partner, soulmate, my dancer.
I need you.

Legend (Surviving the Schism)

One cloudy night, they laid together in bed, spooned. Their hearts gently beating in unison. Their bodies were cold, their faces were stone. Their eyes were the same shade of grey. They slept in dead silence.
All he had were nightmares. His mind unsettled and restless, imagining himself running from a large wave of darkness, feet barely moving. The darkness never engulfs him, even when it touches him, but he's afraid that one day, it will.

She dreamed in monotone black, staring at her eyelids throughout the night, and waking to face nothing but a lifeless corpse of the human she used to be, and the dead man that slept next to her, flinching, softly whimpering.

She created this hell. She killed him. Every ounce of beauty in him, she drained him of, every ounce of identity and manhood.

She stood up and entered the bathroom, going to wash the dirt from her face. For a long time, she simply watched the mirror with an empty expression. Then a tear streamed down her cheek. And another. Her eyes, like rusted pipes, slowly leaked more and more salty wet bulbs. Her face was unchanged. She stared into herself, seeing nothing.

A small sob erupted from her when she felt the knife enter her back.

She didn't have to look back. She knew it was him. She knew his expression, his posture, his heartless stare that was piercing through her mind, as if the knife carried a shock that lasted as long as it remained in flesh. She knew exactly what happened, and she slowly fell to the ground, laying on her side.

Heavy weeping suddenly burst through her lips as she bled out. He knelt by her side and put his hand on her hip, staring into her eyes, maintaining his glare. He watched her die slowly, waiting for her heart to stop fighting the knife in her back and give up on her, on life.

But as she cried, convulsed, and cringed in agony, she grabbed hold of the knife and slowly took it out of her. She removed his hand from her side and held it in hers for a solid moment, kissed him goodbye, and walked to the nearest hospital.

She had an amazing willpower to live, they say. That's how she made it.
Some say she actually just drove there.
No one knows how she made it. But she did.
God must have been looking straight down on her that day.

But she's not really alive. She's something far beyond the living. An old soul, they call it.

And she still loves that man, that man who almost killed her. She watches over him, pulling the strings of fate to keep him from getting the grey she cursed him with, as she is the only cure.

 And sometimes, he looks up at the sky at just the right moments, to see her smiling down at him, sending her love.

"To fall in love is a blessing. To stay in love is a curse." - Unknown

Rivalry

Beauty tempts man from
the Light of the World's true aim
with only false grace

The Cave (The Return)

When you're in the Cave, all you want is to get out of it.
You'll do anything to get out of it.
Anything to make the pain stop,
to slow the decay,
to kill what's killing you.

When you're out, the world is beautiful.

After rest and a moment of revival, there comes a point of Realization.
You must go back.
You have to return to the pain, the hurt, the destruction and the death.
You're not dying in there. You're living.
This world is nothing but a dream. A matrix. A hallucination.
It's not real.
But it sure as hell feels good, doesn't it?

You contemplate staying here. What could possibly be wrong with it?
You could live. You could be happy.

But you will never live. And you will never be happy.
You'll live in a world that you know isn't real.

You have to unlock that part of your mind that can only be set free
through Pain. Torment. Self-Death. Self-Revival.

Cautiously, carefully, cowardly,
You re-enter the Cave.

Death approaches you, like an old friend.
You take his hand and a shot of pain runs through your body.
You nod at him, and he nods back, pride glimmering in his enlarged pupils.

And you walk with him, like a child walks with his Father.
You walk, unknowing of where the Cave will take you.
"No more detours," Death whispers in your ear.
You swallow deeply and nod.

Back in the Cave, ready to die.

Eye 3 (Prying it Open)

I thought I was blind.
In fact, I was sure I was blind.
I could see with my eyes, but not with my mind.
I swore I was blind.

When the light hit the Eye, I was shocked to see the world as it was.
Beautiful. Astonishingly beautiful.
Everything is filmed and unclear, but the colors are vivid enough for admiration.
Even from afar.

Through the crack, I gazed.
There was no society, no establishment, no trace of humanity.
Just nature, functioning together, working as one.
I saw the entire world moving together in unison,
the system of it all, the eternal circle,
the birth of a baby blue jay weighing the death of an elderly fox,
the way the sun shines just enough to make the grass grow,
the miracle of Sheer Coincidence as a base, allowing a great world to blossom from Chance.
I recognized the beauty inside myself, the pure, instinctual place I hold in this world,
and at that moment, I suddenly felt as I joined in the Movement of the World,
stepping through the crack, out of the cave,
settling into the grass in front of a great river, where a deer drinks across from me,
I crossed my legs, feeling it be the right position,
and ceased my marveling,
and I began my harmonization.

Life is a miracle.
Not a moment of it should be wasted.

The time in the cave, I cannot say was wasted time.
Had I found this place without that Great Journey, I would never see the world as I see it now.
The Eye would have never opened.
I would have never been free from the confines of Sanity.
No, I haven't wasted any of my time here.
Every moment I've spent has lead to this one, this one moment that allows me to finally understand why I am and love being alive.
This moment, teaching me the boxed ways of thinking my fellow humans indulge in from birth, and in many circumstances, die in; this moment, allowing me to see the world as God would see it; this moment, allowing me to unify with the many things that also live on this planet with us; this moment, allowing me to realize that time and limitations and boundaries are simply man-made; this moment, granting me the right to accept myself and the life that thrives from selfishness and thoughtless destruction around me.

This moment, the one that has pried my Third Eye open, so I may finally understand why I'm here and what my purpose is.

Words cannot describe the amount of Reconstruction this allows.

The End of the Tunnel

It's getting hotter in this cave,
that seems to go on forever.
I reek of odor and of decaying flesh,
and I can barely stand upright.
My pupils are beginning to dilate.
Far past my iris.
I'm becoming a Dead Man.
I'm slowly Dying.

I used to scream at the top of my lungs
in pain, in decay,
clothes torn,
hair matted and frizzy,
spitting up blood,
insects and arachnids surround me,
the usual nightmare...

 One day, I stopped screaming.
I let the decay win.
One day I woke up, and never moved from my sleeping position.
I let go of Sanity,
I let go of Normalcy, I let go of Understanding.
I let go.

The bugs, over time, skitted away.
Decomposition eventually stopped tearing at my flesh.
My skin stopped feeling like Fire, like death,
and the screaming in my mind slowly faded.

I wondered for a moment if I died.
I tried moving my hand, and it bended to my will.
My first three fingers clenched to my palm weakly,
I barely saw it through my mangled hair.

The pain faded gradually.
It stopped, one day.
I was afraid to move.

The Light opened from the side of my cave,
Death fled far from my bedside, like a desperate scavenger,
appearing finished with my body.

It was a large crack in the wall.
I felt a difference in me. It triggered the split.
I suddenly realized at that moment,
as the Crack stared at my grotesque body,
the key to getting out of here.
Its name rang on my lips and made the walls of the Cave shudder,
"Change."

Dragon Eyes

Held in the circus, the Lady with the Dragon Eyes steps into the center.
The crowd can't see them.
A camera, hooked up to a large screen, shines into her corneas and the crowd gasps.
They're sharp, they're golden and blue. They're crystal clear.
Her pupils are gone, engulfed by the colorful irises.
She looks away from the camera and at the crowd,
she hears a child whisper to his mother,
"I wonder what she sees."
"I don't think she can see," she responds.
I wonder what she sees.
I don't think she can see.

Can she see, if she has no known pupils to see with?
Can she see, if she does not see you?
Can she see if she sees the world without the painted view
of the neurological interpretation
of the pupils.
Can she see the flashing red lights that circle the tent,
if she doesn't see the lights, but instead, the implications behind the chosen color?
Can she see the expressions of the thousands of people viewing her
if she can see the painted tone of voice, the disapproval, the fear, the attempted normalcy and fear of the unknown?

I wonder what she sees, says the boy to his mother.
I don't think she can see, she responds.

Who can see clearer, the woman with the Pupil-less Eyes, or the rest of the world?

Who can see at all?

Something so Beautiful

Female, male, female, male
Neither of the above in here
A safe place where we're together
A safe place where we can talk
through our stares and our emotions
Our skin is invisible
Emotions bare in the light, shifting pigments, colors
curious and happy
unafraid for the first time

Something so beautiful cannot be real
and it's not, by real's standards
Once the 'real' barrier is broken
Everything felt, everything experienced and everything not
is suddenly very real

These moments define the vitality of life
and the pain releases and seeps through my eyes
but I'm okay, I'm okay
For the very first time, I'm okay