Bright Days

The wind blows softly as my arms unfold; Tonight seems inspiring and brilliant once more. My path is so narrow, reminiscent and dark I desire nothing more. Love has lost its name; love lost its name when I paved my way. I am a cold man. I am a neurotic man. I have been taught to survive. Memories of my grief blinding me from the same compassion and support I yearned for. Yet her name is too distant to hate, envy, or destroy. “Toy with me once more” upon this winding road I call out in despair, “I’m scattered about the floor, I’m scattered and no one cares.” Bright red lights, street signs, “ill nurtured are you? The night sky is darkening. Look at these scars, were they worth the troubles I upheld? Remind me once again of the discomfort I know to well. Send me away with no food, shelter or support. I pray they speak my name when the days are cold and nights are dark. Like a dream corrupted by reminders of despair, do I walk alone once again ashamed that I am bare?”

She walked alone down the same road every day, as though it was in her fate to watch time wash away. She wore bright clothing to remind us she was alive, yet she never minded the rejection her life continued to find. I hope she’s drowning in the memories of the lust she once claimed to be love, it was in her blood to denounce herself and wait for someone to accept her for who she really was.

Another bottle kind bartender for my friends and I. We have much to celebrate a full moon lights up the winter sky. We can arguably agree on the concepts of God and freewill. We’ll reminisce on the glory days and intoxicate the hills. “You will never believe what I’ve just witnessed.” Said Alex as he burst in through the bar door. “He was staggering and rambling about his heart breaking upon the floor! Remember when we would take joy rides and one would sit curled up in the back seat, as we all wondered who’s friend he was or how we came to meet? Think! He would wear leather boots and torn jean jackets day by day, and smoke cigarettes until the dumpsters stunk of nicotine.”
“Johnny!” “Yes Johnny” Alex gleefully replied. He’s just outside.

She steps outside to hear the echoes of the world. Alone and conflicted the sun spoils the soil. Those habitual rituals to escape her conflicts, they comfort the sorrow our hopes promise us. The moon shines no more and her mornings are spent in confusion. The lifetimes she restores or tries to avoid with each passing glance. She’s on a pedestal again; these days are but devices, desperately restoring her dreams forever and again.

Now these days and nights seem to pass by inspiring me to come to a conclusion of tragedy. I can only hold my head high or let the world go by, as I lay fast asleep. She was the essence of laughter, love, and all the reasons for which my heart would beat. The fever of this road, the misery of this street. Dreary, yet hopeful of insignificance to set me free. They all abused the gifts of love; they all mocked you when it came time to speak. She, her, a jest in which I cannot compare. The desolation in my mind bleeds to lay the pain to rest. “Johnny, We saw you earlier on the road, care for some whiskey you seem troubled… a girl? Are you still with what’s her name? Well I had a thing for her in school. Johnny climb aboard this here truck tonight, Johnny don’t be a fool. Come, we’ll drink and talk of days of old and days to be, we’ll keep our dreams alive with a vague and distorted memory.”
“No not I, if a fool it is then let it be, I have lost all reasons to continue laughing within this tragedy, so you may go and don’t let me burden your night, I have to be somewhere I just remembered, yeah that’s right.”

So the moon would sink this night, each lover would come to bed worry free, at least this is what life was like; to Johnny is what I mean. The skyline was dark and Johnny’s heart felt like darkening some as well, he’s spent far to long caring about what she thought of him, he must have missed something else.

The mask that she wears now torn, her eyes cry out in disbelief, the repetition of her life seemed to be an ironic memory. As she laid the foundation of what will be, her desires of love no longer seemed to carry the same meaning and creativity. Disgusted by the implication she would lay flat upon her side, she cried like a misunderstood child braving each negative thought with the freewill instilled in her mind. Not to say the least her heart still beats for Johnny and the streets, but she had witnessed the rejection she must continue to live by, a crying shame for anyone to be stepped upon. Determined is she, hopeful now full of life, the sun beats down into her window, well her window at the time. She embraces the world as if she has just discovered it was her own.

I am here and nowhere else. What say you dear? What have you felt? The glistening of my promises are all leaving, they once left you entranced. Another way, though you have found it, you keep it hidden far away. The daybreaks and my eyes shutter, do I have the will power to wear another face? I breathe in these lies just to reconsider, everything I have given up for you to make it that much better. So dismiss the secrets I’ve kept because I won’t forget. Who started this mess? Still I’ve been misplaced, the streets and her face. Johnny, keep me close so that I may never lose control. Far down this road though it’s becoming thinner, though you might know, your still on your own. But I wont believe you anymore, this pain rests and forces me to recognize, the patterns of innocence. And my heart swells as the emptiness dwells. Take me to another part of town.

She had felt insignificant, yet pleased that no one was there to pick her up. Her feet are now laced at her soul no longer need to mimic anyone else. Down this road she will travel, to a place she will soon call home. She wasn’t born to gamble on the habits that man has made. So without farewells she leaves so peacefully no longer baffled and no longer dinning with the poor, O father please let Johnny remember to sell the blood upon the floor.