Fake love that stretched me cheeks to a ***** too steep and now my lies chaise me in my dreams who can sleep when happiness dictates you nightmares

Over exaggerating idealistic scenarios only to boost my hopes and motivation without any recognition of success for my to suppress who I am

Remorse of lost emotions that I never had the luxury of experiencing. Joy to watched children dance in the light and to the rhythm of laughter, punish me for my lack of interest in an idea so trivial, that only someone who doesn't know pain could accept

Gracious temporary hosts who held me close and told me to try, try again and were my only friends and who saw my end only to never let me go ever again

Individual alone time, lonely songs sang to the wall and the rooftops on my lungs while they are burning beneath me

Various memories infection my body; nerve spasms, flinching, clenching, screaming, shaking, horrific past events in which I had no control over much like my body

Everyone who left leaving only one to rely on, to lean on, to cling on to have my back to which I am lying flat, wind knocked out of me by reality

(i'm afraid of
sleeping now)

last night i dreamed
the warm white church
walls were all painted
army green

and the kids were
wearing orange jumpsuits
as the youth leaders
screamed orders

(flashbacks to
calisthenics and
lock-ins that i
usually skipped)*

and i was
scared

so i hid
but they
found me and
i was suspended

i woke up wishing
for my sleep back.

I hear the silent cry
I am the only one who hears
Everytime there is silence
His fear floods my ears

I know he is ok
I know i didn't die
But the fear of almost leaving them
makes me die inside

What would my wife do
Raising our son by herself
With a husband in a grave
Or my ashes on a shelf

My son too young to remember
Having a loving father in his life
Only some picture to look at
And stories from my wife

I have never feared death
Loved danger all my life
But now it's not death that scares
It's leaving my child and wife

I've spent way too long,
Hiding in the hollows of my mind.

Continuously drowning on all of the poison,
That you've forced down my throat.

All in the name of love.

Your delusional version of love.

                                      Alysia Marie 2016 ©

i miss having an old
plastic box at the
foot of my bed

i miss having
motivation
inspiration

i miss
me

(i'm sorry
okay?)

the only thing
that makes sense
at all anymore
is music

all the black and
white patterns
crawling up and
around my legs

and i lost hundreds of pieces
of transparent music
just left myself
some lead sheets
wrinkled from
artificial humidity.

it just feels
wrong
okay?

i feel wrong
okay?

i discovered
the hard way
the truth

that i like people
on an individual
basis and hate
established institutions

(i'm
sorry
okay?
i'm
actually
really
sorry
okay?)­

i also discovered that
many people actually
like me and somehow i
misunderstood their intentions

(which were undeniably
good but you know
what i've always said
about good intentions.)

regret
regret
flashing neon
regret
guilt
guilt
strangling black
guilt

a plastic box viewed
by me is not a
plastic box viewed
by you

and i want my
plastic box back

the plastic box
i remember
the me
i remember

i want my
plastic box back

i was tripping over it
kicking it for probably
about six years

the yellowed
broken handles
dust in the bottom
it's more than just
a box and more like a coffin
of the last forty years and my past

i remember giving it up
sliding it right under our
old mailbox and handing
over the laptop that was

never mine but always
felt like it and then
walking down the
stairs and out into
the blazing parking lot
like i wasn't a new person.

today i put a laundry
basket full of blankets
where it used to sit
and every time i turn
around i think it's
there again

i'm having
flashbacks of
some stupid
plastic box

(like when somebody
dies or leaves your life and for
awhile it keeps hitting you that
they're just not around anymore)

God and mark
(probably sharons
and kate too)
only know where it is

but i know where
it is not
it's not in my kitchen
it's not in my room

**and i want my
*******
plastic box back.

In these moonlit hours
I lay here, my thoughts racing
Sometimes it's hard to handle
The realities that I'm facing

My mind is over-tired
Yet my thoughts keep me awake
It's just the way I'm wired
It feels as if there's no escape

Flashbacks hit me like a flash flood
I'm drowning in the memories
My wounds have opened, there is blood
Pouring from my arteries

As the crimson river runs
It feels do or die, this battle
The journey's never any fun
When you're up a creek without a paddle

I see everything so vividly
The visions that dance before my eyes
I'm overcome with melancholy
As I whimper out soft cries

Then just as quickly as it came
The feeling is gone, I'm no longer numb
My body's shaking dissipates
As I brace myself for when the next wave comes

Staggering down a moonlit road, searching for the end to constant flashbacks,
I'm turning into a trembling mess of memories
Just looking desperately for the golden happiness evading me
My mind toys with our reality and a nightmare filled mayhem
I'm slipping from sanity, I'm begging, take me back when....
Everything was simple