howl at the moon.

mark me like the wolf;
i am your deception.
dreaming in red and gold,
waking in hallucinations.
can i cry for your attention?
do i lie of my conception?
when the day dies,
i am the one that holds me.
and never again to run.




i know i haven't written much lately.
to be honest, i've been in a state of panic. sometimes figuratively, and sometimes quite literally.
my emotions have caused another flood, which is something i am used to.
but that, unfortunately, doesn't make it easier to swim.
at this point, i've exhausted my limbs, and am floating on my back for as long as i can hold.
riding the wave is a necessity for me. if i didn't give in to the waters, i would drown.
so here i am again. floating, floating, floating...
i don't try to make sense of it anymore. i just try to stay connected.
it's not about what i feel; it's about whether i feel.
and i know, for now, that i do.
so that small victory is something i will hold on to.

i've stopped writing in my journal.
i know i ought to pick it up again.
i'm positive it would help me.
but the first cut is the deepest.
and sometimes, i don't see a reason to start.
[now that i read that, i laugh at the irony...]

i feel as weak as prey.
i have no defenses; i'm alone in an open field.
i'm soft and susceptible, because nature curses me so.
and i fear that the only way to hide is to live a lie. to become the predator.
so i am now the hunter.
i seek what i want, when i want it.
i take what i see, when i see it.
i do what i feel, when i feel it.
because the only conviction i have now
is the conviction of an act.