Weary Eyes- Court Driven Streets

It's the way I go, the way I travel, more times than not,
in this small town.
The city is big, but small enough to allow the past to creep, and lurk.
Intoxication normally brings me to this path,
whether uppers or downers.

A road.
A road of trial.
A road that once familiarized my thoughts with the word "home."

The memories swarm me at times unforgivable,
moments unforgettable.
Stress pinches my neck, my heart sinks.
I try to remind myself of all of the swarming negativity that once flooded my chaotic life,
yet there are lulls of happiness that make me angry.
Angry that I even think of them,
Disgusted that I even weigh them as more than the terrible woes.

But I dream of better days,
days that I had...
Even better ones that I hold now, since the sun began to shine again.

Too bad life is forever finite,
Although I think I'm a stronger believer that life goes on.
Maybe in a different life this will all make sense?
Until then,
Let thy weary eyes rest.

Her Name Is...

Wake up.
The sound of rain is lulling, in a sense warning me.
She is back,
A life long friend, a deadly foe.
She lingers in my brightest hour,
devouring my soul in its darkest.
A beautiful demon in the night, with gripping claws as the day goes by.

A mirror,
Distorted reality spits back in my face, as her voice whispers-
"Perfection is a must"
Acceptance is inevitable.
Ripples grace my skin starting below my neck.
Two distinct, solid, beautiful, pertrustions.
Delicate bones. I touch them.
To feel their brittle power, makes me crave more.

She whispers, "Where are the rest?"
My dear friend,
my finger tips slide down my bare skin to spaces underneath my shrinking breasts.
I stop...Eleven, one is missing.
I push, and it appears.
My heart sinks, as I feel her cold grip on my hips.
Unacceptable.

Our relationship invokes a bittersweet symphony,
The music of melodies clashing with the bass of a horror flick.
She grabs my hand, reassuring me that she loves me, that she cares,
While deceiving the reality of all that I've earned.

Shaking.
Anxiety runs through my blood in fear of her grasp,
while embracing her warmth.
The single most beautiful entity to grace my entirity.
She tiptoes while releasing me to the cold, porcelain, snow white tiles.
Fingertips through my dry, breaking hair,
Tying it back- routine like.

Expelling my body of the demons she disapproves of.
Meaningful struggles, beautiful embrace.
Cold.
Blurred vision, as salty streaks reach my lips.
Up.
Lighter than a feather.
Counting again, this endless number game.
Back to the top.
Twelve.
Relief.

Delicately she casts shadows where each bone lies.
She smiles in pride.
My best friend, yet she breathes my death.
Her name is Ana.