It's Sad

Its sad.
How the faces you see everyday grow on you, and you hear the names over a million times, but just cant seem to place that face. That same face you passed just two minutes before. So you stand there, that stupid grin painted on your face. But here it comes. Shit. Ya see, they remember you. Hell, they know all about you. They remember bumping into you 3 years earlier and having that deep conversation on just how mild the salsa was. Now you just feel like shit. Shit. But you'll pretend to remember them. And standing there, you think to yourself, nothing could be worse than this moment right here. Oh how embarrassing. Just nod your head and smile, they will never catch on. Just at that moment, you get a phone call. Your uncle John just died. So you're heart drops, you're in, what people with intellect would call, shock. That person, the nameless face before you has no idea what just happened. So of course, they put the cautious face on. Ya see, they think you have history, enough to comfort you no matter the situation.
Its sad.
That at that very moment, on the phone with your aunt Alice, who is breaking down, what pops into your head? Vinny. Vinny with the salsa at Katie's party three years back, how could you have forgotten? You had a blast that night. Especially when Jeff threw up all over Katie, you laughed so hard you spit your drink all over Natalie, the poor new girl who never saw it coming.
It's sad.
With your family all around, you cant even shed one tear? Looking down at the man that you once looked up to, you cant help but realize all the family you never even knew you had. Since when were there so many cousins? Who was Lacey's parents? And why wont that kid in the back pipe down. You're supposed to be mourning, but how could you mourn with the 8 year old terror screaming in the back. The 8 year old son. Walking towards the back of the room you see the faces of these poor, pathetic people. Tears were no stranger to their faces. Sitting between two people, you knew nothing about. They're getting tears all over the shoulders of your top. Who were they to think you comforting? they have no idea just how little you feel.
Its sad.
Sitting at the table, listening to all the stories of the good times, you can hear the tears hit the newly pressed cloth, but all you can think about is whether you want the chicken parmigiana, or the sirloin steak with the baked potato. "Are you ready?". Bells go off in your head, but you know you're not the first at the table. These things go clockwise and she is no where near you. "Hunny how about you go first?". What? How could she? What, because dear Aunt Carol cant make up her mind, you have to? Well its too late you cant make this poor woman making minimum wage to just pay her electricity bill wait. When making your decision on pure instinct, You cant help but notice the bruises on the womans arm. Abuse. This woman was abused, you just know it. She seemed timid before she even spoke.
Its sad.
That while dropping the tattered rose by the casket all you can think about is what you ordered for lunch. Why didn't you get the sirloin steak and that baked potato? You just had to stick with the safe choice, couldnt live life on the edge in the slightest bit. Fear. Fear of change. The chicken was good, no doubt about it, but the potato would have hit the spot. Look at him, You never saw him look better. Make up could do that to you. You feel something, you finally feel something. Is it possible? Is this finally hitting you? Nope. Thats the chicken repeating on you. You see? The steak was the better choice.
Its sad.
To this day you have no clue how to handle what happened. No words to say to the 8 year old terror. No comfort to your Aunt Alice, the loss of mind. You see your family all the time. You laugh and joke around. No one dare mention Uncle John. What would you have to say about that day anyway? The chicken was terrible, you nearly shit yourself.
Its sad.
I fear i miss him most.

Passive

Passive.
Both my best, and worst quality.
I let shit slide, crucify me.
You must have mistaken me for someone who gives a damn.
I'm tired.
All over.
I'm tired on my feet, where i run to my escape, but never make it.
I'm tired of time, racing it, but never on my hands, always on my mind.
I'm tired in my mind, finding my own place and resurrecting my soul.
Reborn.
Every time, a new soul.
But sharing that same over baring quality.
Passive.
When will i learn?
Who will teach me?
I only find more reasons not to forget,
not to forgive.
But who does that really?
I'm no saint, and i don't claim to be.
Nor do i claim to be very knowledgeable.
If there is one thing i know,
it is myself.
I know how much i can take.
The weight my shoulders can bare.
But my back is breaking.
I'm falling victim to my own demise.
My greatest downfall.
I'm blissful in my ignorance,
yet arrogant in my intelligence.
My patience is running on empty.
And i can honestly say i have never reached such a point in my life.
Where i begin to not only question myself,
but all those around me.
"And all your money wont another minute buy"
It means nothing who you were in life.
What you made of yourself.
What you will become is far greater,
and grudges know no mercy.
Passive.
My one way ticket to the pearly gates.
My one constant barrier from all pain.
My secret hiding place.

May 14

When i died, i felt nothing in that moment. No pain, no sorrow. I didn't have this revelation, nor did my life flash before my eyes. I didn't see this beam of angelic light, just the fluorescents, which needed to be changed. The lord above didn't come to speak with me and send some urgent message for the fate of man kind. In that moment i thought one thing, and one thing only. Where the hell was everyone? Where were the mourners who were to drop to my feet? Where were the witnesses who were to run and scream mercy? Where was the family who was to lose an important part of themselves? Where the hell was everyone? That crap about seeing all my passed loved ones? Yeah, well that was joke if i ever knew one. Bright red veins. My own flesh and blood. It's weird ya know, hearing yourself slowly go. Remember when your favorite battery operated toy was losing its life and the sound became this unknown demonic tone? Well thats all i heard in my last moments. Damn annoying. Now try and imagine my hostility at the pearly gates if i ever made it. Try and imagine losing the feeling at your fingertips, and the very tip of your toes. The numbing pain slowly rising through your blood, no longer pumping warm, but cold. Laying still, because although you may want to get up and go your body's got other plans for you. This warm, wet liquid lining your body puts you in a trans like state, frees your mind while its still just that. Quick, you have to say goodbye, Christ if you don't you'll never hear the end of it.
But where the hell is everyone?
Gone.
What is this? No, No i cant move my arm, now stop asking. Dark. Light. Red. I cant answer you, I'm trying, but i cant. Don't leave, not yet. Just wait. Give me a chance, Jesus even after death I'm rushed. Those voices, i know them. They make me love the dulling demonic tone of death. The ripping pain in my side makes me love the numbing feel of loss. Get the mourners off my back, tell the witnesses to pipe down. As for the family? Mellow dramatic. I don't think I'm ready to open my eyes, not unless I'm returning as a completely new soul. Not unless the skies are suddenly clear, the grass a new shade of green, and the faces with painted smiles. No, No i don't want to get up and walk, now stop asking. Red. Light.
Reborn.