When you where here I wrapped them around me in warm folds of living experience. They were a connection between us, something we could share. Now they never wrap, only choke.

Even when I sleep I can only cling to their surface, drag them towards me and hope they can keep from falling.

Falling apart and all I can do is peer into my memories and watch pieces go missing. Some robber in the night, some human instinct, is stealing you away from me in pieces…until the pieces are gone, and bits of me go missing. I don’t even know where I fit anymore. My shape has changed.

Don’t even recognize myself, can’t focus. I just don’t fit. I just can’t find my place in this world, as though, it no longer exists. Without purpose, I can’t breath.

I can’t breath, and I want to move on. To leave and find my place again, a place where I can fit perfectly. But they are holding me here. They who need me and who I love. They who I use to help. Why do I keep hurting them? Why can’t I stop….hurting. Hurting. So broken and not wanting to be fixed because that would mean letting go. But you can’t fix others when you’re broken yourself. And out go’s my purpose in one fail sentence. I suppose I should have guessed that sentence would come. It was always leading here.

Leading here, over and over, finding its way towards me. Even as I was happy, even as my purpose worked, it was sneaking into my place with fail strokes, fatal mistakes-destroying everything I made. Everyone I loved. And now here it comes; coming for me in memory. Coming for me in my words. Everything I do has begun to fail and fall apart since my memories have gone missing.

One at a time they wander off, sometimes so completely absent, that I believe they may have been in on this all along-are still in it-and involved in some elaborate plan to tear my character apart. Understandable now why they buried themselves in my core, my essence, and became such an intimate item in my personality. Like getting close to someone only to destroy them. Treacherous things.

Been a while since I could right.

Since I could point out all the wrongs that haunt the darkness of my night.

Been nothing much worth reading,

My apologies, I’m sure.

But I keep finding myself trapped in days,

I’m sure I can’t endure.

I’m so calm,

So god damn…quiet.

They see someone, stoic and wise.

I guess I cannot blame them for their infinite surprise,

At my emotion.

…when I give it rise.

Not near often enough to stay alive.

But here I am, and I can’t die,

No matter how I wish or try,

Because of they who find solitude in my tilted ear.

The listening, and answering that seems all I am capable of.

All that I will do, until they wear me thin,

and then more often after that, until there is nothing left of me,

They will destroy me.

Tear me apart with they’re urgent need,

Their desperate pleas,

Their wants, their wants.

Their self justified assurance that the world owes them something,

and I will give it to them.

What a world.

What a place?

What a place to live and die,

But no place, I’ve found, for the living dead,

Here only to serve the needs of everyone else.

And I can’t say no.

No is too cruel.

No takes away my purpose.

A purpose, which, though killing me,

I cannot live without.

I need to help them,

Need to fix their worlds,

Need to teach,

To observe,

<>

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<>To learn.

<>I need their wants.

I need. Their wants.

My need, their wants,

Desiring, and designing,

And tearing me apart.

As thoroughly as I try to hold myself together for their sake.

Crazy. All of us and all of them,

And myself much too sane to be anywhere near write.

Near wrong.

Near righting anything.

And I find, though it is slower,

Trying to help everyone is a more sure form of suicide.

More sure than any affair with a gun, or knife.

Any sordid diet of pills or poisons.

Or a dance with the hands of a friendly noose.

This I cannot talk myself out of.

It does not feel foolish, or selfish.

I cannot say no to it.

I am incapable…

And surely, though slowly,

They will pull me into darkness.

A darkness where I am as strong,

As dependable,

As they imagine me.

And as lost,

As alone,

As quiet as they assume I already am.

Can I ask?  Is that alright?

What makes you any better than a sneak thief in the night?

What justifies your purpose?

What makes it fair at all?

For you to be so big and we so small?

What gives you the right to take him?

What gives you insight to say,

That any given death, is better any given day?

Like when you’re sure of the monster hidden in the corner. When you find out its just the shirt you’ve hung up for wednesday, you are slightly disappointed. There’s all that adreniline and no way to use it. That feeling of relief, sure, but in the end isn’t relief just a different form of disappointment? And if you get something you want, there’s still no happiness. You were expecting it. Why shouldn’t it come? Expectation takes the “OI!” out of joy. No surprise. Just acceptance. Wheres the fun in that?.

You get so much more satisfaction from something you’re sure won’t come. So much more thrill; because when you simply accept something, it can only ever be as good as you expected it to be, sometimes not even that. But when something comes unexpectedly-by surprise-you cannot be disappointed, or even merely relieved. The unexpected always exeeds our expectations because…well. Because we had none.

Expectation gives permission for betrayal. If you expect someone to betray you, and they do, you can only blame yourself. But if you trust them, and they turn against you, thats a different matter entirely. Trust makes you work towards something better. Expectation…you don’t care much either way.

When we expect, we don’t feel the need to work for or against. We merely sit awaiting the inevitable. Often, merely to find out that the inevitable was not entirely as permanent as we imagined it could be. If we sit lamely by and wait for our promotion, it will probably not come. And if we sit by prophecying our untimely demise. The end of the world. Our perishing in the fiery depths of sin…I imagine it will come without much fuss. We have to fight. Fight for what we want, or fight against what we’re afraid is certain, but fight for something, because if we don’t, why are we alive at all? If we don’t work towards somewhere, or at least try to keep moving forward, what’s the point? Whats the point at all of sitting in the same place our entire lives waiting for the world to come to us. Why not meet it half-way? I know it’s a strange thought…and I am a strange person, but why not? Why not be better and less afraid? It’s not so hard as we’d expect it to be. We could change the world. We could change ourselves. And maybe in the process, we could change our expectations of how everything should be.

Perfection is found, only in context.  Where something fits perfectly, like a puzzle piece, or a shirt.  Everything, everyone has someplace where they belong.  Where they fit; where they are perfect.  Every one.  In our lives we are allowed small moments of perfection.  Times where we fit, it all fits perfectly into place and we just want time to stop right there, because it is all so clear and wonderful in that one moment.  We know where we belong in time and space, but only for a second.  Sadly it is often lost when the instant has passed.  Maybe we only wanted that perfect, so we created it for ourselves.  But in the larger scheme of things, perfection is always in our minds anyway.  Perfect moments-perfect pieces of time-are what make us aspire to be better people.  Better people, for a better world.

People aspire to be more like there is some end goal to reach.  How ridiculous is that?  The closest to perfection we can ever come, is to constantly improve.  To always try to be better than we have already been.  To aspire.  Aspire to something bigger than ourselves.  For the benefit of the world and everyone around us.

Religious people will tell you that there is a dark end.  A fiery demise of Armagedon which our sins are leading us down to with no escape.  Many believe there is no way to avoid or delay this horrifying future.  Why?  Why can’t we change what is to come?  Why can’t we be perfect?  Why is this such a hopeless dream?  I don’t understand…I can’t believe that we have no control or choice.  And we do have the choice.  I know we do.  We can fix this.  We can be good.  Aspire to be better people, and we can control what is to come.

We have reached an inpass, and we must choose.  I hope we can choose to be incredible…wonderful.  Because if we don’t, the end is inevitable and there is nothing to aspire to anymore.

I wish it was tomorrow, I really do, then today could be yesterday and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.  There’s nothing you can do to change the day before; all you can do is work towards the possibilities now, and tomorrow.  If today was yesterday, I wouldn’t need this hat.  Not at all.  This is a sunday type hat, and tomorrow is Monday.  No.  Wouldn’t need the hat.  Or the gloves, those either.  The gloves I’ve worn because she liked them.  She thought they were classy.  Much as I’d like to respect her, these itch.  Like crazy, and I keep getting looks.  Good or bad I’m unsure…

If today was yesterday, I could pretend it was far enough in the past to be easy-although, I know, it never will be.-  If tomorrow would just come…I could die in quiet peace knowing I would be with her again.  But I can’t die today.  I can’t.  Or tomorrow either I suppose-although that is a day away-I can’t die today because I know how much it hurts…I don’t want anyone I love to have to wish for tomorrow, the way I’m wishing for the future today.  The way I’m wishing I had the choice to let go.  I wish today was yesterday, so I could hold tomorrow, and control it.  I have no control today, and I cannot bring her back.  I can’t join her right now.  Or tomorrow, although I say I might.  I think I’ll just be waiting for another yesterday.  Waiting for yesterday to come and move me forward while I’m sitting here on todays porch…

I don’t know if tomorrow will ever come.  It seems like I’ve been sitting for forever on this step, clinging to tomorrow.  And it never arrives.  I’ll always be sixteen, and she won’t come like she said she would, and I’ll know.  I’ll know right then.  Tomorrow will never come.  Tomorrow never has.  We only have today, and that has to be good enough.  We only have now, and sometimes we only had yesterday to cling to, because we know that today holds no beauty or curiousity anymore-once we are dead inside.

Words that will make you smile.

make you glad that you’re alive, and maybe ponder for awhile.

Trying to write words.

To be sure that this is true.

Trying to write words to him and you…

Attempting to write something,

That you will find worth reading,

Although, judging by whats come so far,

I’m clearly not succeeding.

Trying to write something…

Trying to write at all…

Wondering so many things,

Wandering towards the fall.

I don’t know where to start.

Not sure how to surmise.

And sucking at this treasure hunt,

I’ve recently realised.

My rhythm is off.

My rhythm is off.

My rhythm is quite out of time.

It’s moving out of synch,

As is my rhyme.

I’m out of synch

synch

can’t write.

Unsure if it is morning, or a painfully late night.

Out of synch

synch

Can’t write.

Wondering if this is worth the fight.

I’ll delete it anyway…..

My rhythm is off.

No rhythm found here,

Which I think is ironic…I’ve made it quite clear.

There should be,

There would be, some fine rhythm here.

I don’t think it moves,

I don’t think it flows…

The ideas in my mind never grow,

or even stay…

I can’t write.

I can’t write…

Not today.

Finding it Kind of hard to breath.

and you would not Believe,

How much I’m missing you today.

Is that weird?

Is that ok?

This writers block doesn’t help at all…

No more curiousity…

NO more need.

Just going through the motions till I die.

I have only ever, in my lifetime, met two decent guys who where interested in me-I have many nice guy friends, but they have let me be.  Of these two guys, one is dead, and the other I am with now.  I am with somebody right now.  I’m sorry if this makes the dicks a bit bitter.  There’s nothing I can do.  I’m sorry if you are put out.  I’m sorry if it makes you upset, although frankly I don’t care.  Quit sending me bitchy comments.  Quit sending me lost puppy emails.  For gods sake quit texting me unless you have something real to say.  And get out of my damn bushes, you’re killing the flowers.

Harmony Davies

You didn’t come,
I had to go,
But at the very least.
I hope to say the things I should,
By writing this brief piece.

Wanted to stay here,
Had to run.
Perhaps its just as well.
I know you’ve promises to keep,
I’ve promises to sell.

Thank you though,
Before I leave,
For what you chose to see.
I truly do appreciate,
What you perceived of me.

You made me better,
Than I believed,
I’d ever be in the end.
I just want you to know I’m glad,
That you are my best friend.

I love you,
More than anything,
I wish that I could stay.
I would give up everything,
To give you one more day.

Failed Repentance

Harmony Davies
Often I’ve fallen to the pains,
Of scratching at my mortal stains,
Removing sinful residue.
Doing it all, dear god, for you.
So I’ll be good enough.

Always I fall to painful toils,
To be sure all will have their spoils.
Trying to be sure life is fair,
But since it’s not, why do I care?
Because it seems like it should be.

Closer Now

Harmony Davies
Closer now, that we’re apart,
when I no longer see,
Your face, or feel your touch,
or hear you talk to me.

Closer now, when you’re away,
I wish you could be here,
Being this close hurts much too much,
Since I’ve realized my worst fear.

Closer now that we’re apart,
Cause though it hurts like hell,
I miss having you here so much,
and feel your heart so well.

Tweedle Dumb

Harmony Davies
Tweedle Dum, and Tweedle Dee,
Were quite content in life,
Although, if the truth must be told,
Each caused the other strife.

So while they went through their routines,
An answer came quite clear,
“I’ll kill my brother off,” they thought,
“No longer have him near.”

They each, quite neatly, set about,
The other ones demise,
Each thinking fondly to himself,
“Free life will be my prize.”

Long story short, they both expired,
And, the truth to tell,
In death, they each discovered,
They were quite content as well.

But each was rather put off,
By the other ones presence in hell,
And so the tale goes on, and on,
Forever as we fail.

Fred’s Nightmares

Harmony Davies
Fred went to bed without hassle each night,
His mom got him some milk,
And she’d tuck him in tight.
But what she didn’t know, was that under the bed,
There was a small monster,
Put dreams in his head.

Frighteningly wonderful, horribly cad,
And slowly the dreams became more and more bad.
His dreams turned to nightmares,
and slowly poor Fred,
became less and less faithful in going to bed.

He’d ask for some water, or more milk each night,
and then beg his mother to hug him more tight.
The dreams became frightening,
and soon, every day
Longer and longer he tried to delay.

He made up excuses,
Getting slowly more strange,
And soon, poor Fred’s mom,
thought him odd and deranged.

She forced him to sleep in his own room each night,
And although he begged,
She would not hold him tight.
The worse the dreams were,
The more Fred would despair,
Chew on his fingernails, pull out his hair.

One day poor Fred’s mind,
could take it no more,
His small head exploded,
left blood on the floor.

Next day,when they found him,
mixed in with his brains,
Were pieces of memories,
and nightmares deranged.

So when someone you care for,
Is scared of the night,
Don’t run from them,
but hold them tight.
Because you never know when,
Someone you have held dear,
Will, someday, grow too afraid,
and no longer be near.

Sometimes at Night

Harmony Davies
In life, quite often I forget,
The things that I should do,
Ridiculous, but anymore,
Can only think of you.

The thing is, I’d do anything,
To for moments feel your touch.
Ridiculous, but anymore,
I’m missing you so much.

I know you’re close, cause oftentimes,
My heart can feel you near.
But having you close isn’t nearly the same,
As having you right here.

Sometimes at night, when it hurts most,
I wish I could have gone instead.
But then when mornings come,
I can’t believe that you are dead.

Missing You

Harmony Davies
Miss your smile,
Miss your touch,
Miss our talks,
Miss you so much.

Miss your humor
Miss your insight,
Miss your love,
Miss your light.

Missing life,
Cause all I do,
Is lie here crying,
Missing you.

Answers

Harmony Davies

Answers,
I need answers,
and questions better still.
I need questions,
Lot’s of questions,
Whose answers I can fill.

Thoughts,
Need lots of ideas,
A notion, point, a stand.
Give me philosophy,
To learn, and love,
And soon I’ll understand.

Give me choices,
Give me lessons,
Ask me things to ponder on.
I want to find the answers,
To the world before I’m gone.

Mister Sexy

Harmony Davies
I love you, Mr. Sexy.
I love all that you do.
You know what’s more?
I’d love you if you weren’t so sexy too.

Nobody wants me…

Harmony Davies
Nobody wants me for myself,
That much is plain to see.
Yet everybody wants me,
For what they perceive is me.

Mild self-mutilation,
Mild, so no one will ever tell,
That I’ve started to lose myself,
And lose my mind as well.

Too sane to do it anymore,
Too old, too high a key.
I’m tired of taking care,
Of everyone, but me.

Defense mechanism,
Crazy and completely sane.
But I guess I’d never go back,
Cause I’d never be the same.

I’ve depended on him so long,
Thought there was a space to fill.
But I’m tired of depending,
On my absent fathers will.

Died Inside

Harmony Davies
Tonight I missed you,
And I cried,
Crying so hard, since I have died,
Inside,
Missing you…
And I just wish,
That you were here, Cause just one kiss,
Could fix everything.
Today I missed you,
So I tried,
To find you on the other side,
But you’re not there,
and I’ve no time,
To read you my pathetic rhymes,
Anymore

In Passing

Harmony Davies
Pass me over,
Pass me by,
Whisper Wonders,
Wonder why.
Ask me questions,
Question who,
I’d really like to answer you,
Nobody hears, they think they do…
Life go’s on and on.

No One Left

There are no tears left,
Not in this place,
Where sorrows dwell,
it’s such a waste…
She can’t cry anymore.

She’s left behind,
The girl who cared,
Who questioned why,
And wondered where,
And was afraid of the dark.

There’s nothing left,
It’s all been sold.
She once was happy,
So we’re told,
But happiness is never meant to be.

She sought it out,
Despite her past,
But soon discovered,
It can’t last,
For happiness cannot be kept for long.

Hidden

Harmony Davies
Sometimes it hurts too much to cry,
So we hide behind the ones we love,
and hold onto the masks that hide us.
Sometimes we hide too long,
and the pain we were afraid of grows,
Until we find that it was not a pain,
Not until we hid from it.
By then it doesn’t hurt enough.
Mild self-mutilations,
Full of pity for ourselves,
Because it doesn’t hurt enough to die,
and some days we wish it could.
Life is too long,
Too full of pain.
We all die in the end,
Why not today?
It hurts too much, the pain inside,
And so we hide behind our suicide.
When we are dead we realize…
There never was any pain.
Only the pain we feared until we lost exactly what we needed most.
We cling to our self-pity,
Our selfish fears,
Until we lose the ones we love,
and all that’s left to cling to is a mask of suicide,
where we are dead and have fixed nothing.

Justifications

Harmony Davies
It’s not fair,
That we should stray,
So far from hopes of yesterday,
And slowly give our lives away,
Till death ends all remorse.

It’s not fair,
That we can’t see,
The way things really ought to be,
And never truly happily,
Pass day, to night, today.

It’s not fair,
How we all feel,
That something in this life is real,
and all is passed with worthwhile zeal,
What does it matter either way?

It’s not fair,
How people dream,
Of gaining things, that to us seem,
To come quite easy, full and clean,
While the world wastes away.

It’s not fair,
How we all sit,
Passing life by, bit by bit,
We never will relive it,
Do all you can today.

Incapable Failure

Harmony Davies
There are too many anymore,
And I’m not sure what I can do.
All I can think, is how I failed,
At taking care of you.

I want to make things better,
I need to make it right,
But everythings so empty,
In the middle of the night.

The mornings are the hardest,
I’m not sure how I get through.
Cause everyday, all I can think,
Is how I can’t wake up with you.

Oblivious

Harmony Davies
Legs high,
Kick up the dust.
Dance on the tables,
Sing if you must,
Cause under the table,
They’re making mad love.
and you shouldn’t see that,
Keep dancing above.

Close up the curtain.
Hide on your stage,
On the other side,
They’re all in a rage.
Your performance was faulty,
But you needn’t know.
A boo means they loved you.
I’ll help you to grow.

Waste Away

Harmony Davies
Here’s wishing you were here.
Here’s wishing this was right.
Here’s wishing I was beautiful,
But I’ll always never quite…
Never quite make it.

Here’s where wishing gets us,
Here’s what we’re meant to do.
Keep wishing till we die.
Here’s wishing I could be with you.

Daily

Harmony Davies

Fighting to stay alive,
Fighting to stay awake.
Trying to help everyone,
I can’t win at this rate.

So tired, there’s no rest.
No matter how I ache,
I know that if I sleep,
I’ll be eternally sedate.

Sleeping’s no good, at any rate,
Takes more than I have left to give.
Running in eternal nightmares.
Is how I’m fated to live.

Leedle Man

Harmony Davies
Leedle Man, Big Hands,
Want’s to start his own band,
Where he can play the drums.

Leedle Man, Big Heart,
Will never play, cause he won’t start,
Doesn’t want to offend.

Leedle man, big mind,
But he won’t use it, not this time,
The Leedle Man is dead.

Leedle Man, Big Dreams,
But they we’re only dreams it seems,
He’ll Never get them done.

Leedle Man, Leedle You,
Nevertheless, so much you can do,
If you try.

Keep Me

Harmony Davies

When I am dead, someday I’ll die,
Do not forget to write,
and find me,
When I join you,
In the middle of the night.

When I can finally be with you,
Don’t lose me once again,
But hug me tight,
When it is right,
We’ll say how long it’s been.

Remember me, Please,
While I’m alive.
I know we’re far apart,
But always hold a piece of me,
Please keep me in your heart.

When the life of someone we love is threatened, we will save them regardless of the risk to ourselves.  We will, if we learn to recognize it, save someone or something that we recognize as better than ourselves.

People are not bad, we are merely vain.  Selfishness is our vanity exposing itself to the scrutiny of the world.  It is our refusal to recognize anything as having more value in this word than ourselves.  More than that though, it is our fear that we have no value at all.  By denying this possibility entirely, we can feel that we are owed something.  We can pretend that we have purpose.  This is very sad.

The only thing that makes us worthless in this world is a refusal to recognize our faults, or fix them.  It is our refusal to see the people who are better than ourselves.  Loving someone makes you a better person because love helps us to see the beauty in the world, and the beauty in change.  Love, true love, can give a constant that makes change easier.  People who love each other can grow together, and accept what the other person comes to be.  Unfortunately this sort of love is rarely found.

Most people manage to find a sort of temporary love, where change is unacceptable.  A relationship will never work without some change, people grow.  They do.  They change, and they become better.  The people who we connect with change us.  If you find a relationship where they can’t accept the change that they foster in you, then its probably not a good one.

Of course, we must always be aware of the changes happening within ourselves.  There can be change without growth.  It is important to constantly improve…

Sorry.  I know this is going nowhere really.  I’m just trying to find answers to…so many questions.  I…if people would just understand that when you care about other people instead of yourself…if everyone would do that….it would solve so many problems.  If people could.  I can’t figure out how to make that happen though.  You can’t really make it happen can you?  It’s their choice.  And I don’t know how much of a conscious choice it is.  People only seem to change for the better with a huge disaster.  When something horrible happens and makes them scared.  Very rarely does it happen that the majority of a population changes without some huge upheaval and pain.  We have something like this coming, I think.  The way we are heading, we will either grow significantly, or destroy ourselves.  I’d like to think we will change before it is too late, but I watch people.  And even though they have so many good qualities, even though I know so many wonderful people, they still refuse to change.  They still think in terms of themselves.  They struggle with real connections to others.  I believe they can grow, I know they will.  But will it be in time?

Please don’t think that I believe I’m better.  I know I do it too…I try not to.  What kind of a person am I?  I watch, and I see things, I take note.  How ridiculous is it to just record the problems I see in the world?  What gives me the right?  I try not to judge, I really do.  Even if I think a person is bad I give them so much benefit of the doubt.  I doubt myself so much.  I always tell myself I couldn’t possibly know.  I usually turn out being right though.  I just see what people do to hurt themselves.  It hurts me too.  I don’t know how to fix it.  I wish I could grow as much as some of the people I’ve seen though.  I do know alot of beautiful people.

Even though I am scared for the world, these are the people who give me hope.  They are the ones who we all love, or at least I do, because I know they are better than me…I wish we could all learn from them.  I don’t know.  The world is in a hard place, but there are so many incredible things in it too.  We all have redeeming qualities, and the places we live do too.  I can’t figure this out.  It’s like running into a wall.  I have such bad writers block today.  I wish Kiefer was here, we could have figured it out.  We’d started to.

Does anyone out there want to talk to me about this?  I know it’s a weird request.  It would be progressive, I hope.  I don’t know.  I can’t find the answers by myself.  This is so frustrating, and I just wrote such a crap piece.  I know what I’m trying to say, but…it won’t come out how I want it to.  Why is this so hard?

I don’t think I would survive it though.  If it ever stopped hurting.  If it ever stopped hurting more…I think I would lose everything that I have left of myself.  I know I would, because thats what I have left of him.  Happy I simply act, or reflect off of other people.  But this pain, the crying.  It’s the only real emotion I have left that is my own is for myself.  The only thing I have left.  Everyone says that I can never function with it.  They all think I have to heal to go on with my life and make it as full, as wonderful as possible.  But the thing is, without it, I can’t live at all…hk….bljjjk

I’m such a wreck without him.  None of you will believe this.  Nobody ever does.  No one ever listens to me.  But I will tell you anyway, mainly because you don’t exist, and partly because I need to get this out or I won’t be able to go to school tomorrow again.  Kiefer-lk;,,,,,,,……..,.,m.,.  Kiefer made me complete, he really did.  He made me more happy than any one person should be capable of.  He chilled me out.  He made me ok.  The funny part was, those were the things I was trying so hard to do for him.  I could talk to him, I can’t talk to anybody.  We fixed each other.  He would say what I was thinking, always.   I would always say what he was trying to get at.  We figured things out, because we listened.  Conversations were progressive with us.  We could have solved world peace, we had started to.  I wish we could finish that conversation.  Kiefer made me a better person, and I didn’t have to pretend to be anything around him.  I loved everything..;o;all of it.  Even the things that   ,       even his faults, because they were a part of him.  I would have done anything to see him smile, I always knew when he was sad.  I would call him in the middle of the night because I knew he fuckin needed me.  And even though he needed me, he wanted to give everything to me.  He told me these things, and I believe him, because I trust him with anything everything.  I would do anything for him, because I know he would never ask me to do anything that would hurt someone.  He wanted to help people, and fix things, and save the world.  He let so many people hurt him, just because it would help them.  I tried to help him stop that.  He was beautiful when I was with him I felt safe so safe, but I wanted to protect him all the time.  He was so scared.  There was such a scared little boy inside him and I wanted to make him ok, and happy the way he made the scared little kid inside me smile a little bit all the time just because I knew he was alive.  I could write to him and he’d play along.  Nothing was awkward with us.  We could do anything, and be ok.  He listened to what I had to say, and all I had to do in exchange was love him and listen to him too.  We never blamed each other for anything, only ever ourselves.  But we always saw the other persons mistakes, and flaws, and tried to help them fix them.  We understood that our flaws hurt ourselves alot, and the people around us too.  We understood alot of things, and it was ok to understand them, because we understood them together.  We had different points of view, but we always understood where the other one was coming from.  We always wanted to learn more, and be better.  We wanted to build.;k;

I know that you are thinking I am too young to know this.  You’re thinking that since he’s dead, I am painting a golden light around every memory that I have.  I wish this could be true, because then maybe, I could move on.  I am cursed with remembering things only as they were, and not as they should have been.  I see only the world.  I cannot write fantasy stories.  The stories I do write…are the things in my head.  Maybe thats why I write, because the world I see can only ever be exactly what it is.  When I write, I can paint what I see, but I can build it too.  Like and idea.  I can see how it could improve, I know how it could be better, but I only ever remember the way it was.  I love Kiefer more than I think is really possible, but there it is.  I keep loving him more everyday as I get to know him better.  I miss him more every second because the last time I talked to him just keeps getting farther and farther away and we won’t be able to finish that conversation for a very long time.  I will never heal, I know this.  I also know that you don’t believe I can know something like that, but I do.  I will never heal, but I will learn to live with it.  I will never move past it.  I will carry it with me into whatever lies ahead, and I know he will come with me too.  I love him, I know you don’t believe.  He is the only guy I ever want to be with, and this is the part you believe least of all.  I don’t care.  I do know, Somewhere deep inside of me, because I felt it when he died, and it hurt so much.  I knew that he would die, and I couldn’t accept it.  And I know that when I die, I will still love him more than possible, and he will love me.  He told me so, and i believe him.  Because in my life, and when I die.  There will never be anyone who I will love so much.  I hope that when I die, I can be with him.  I hope that we can have more time, because this isn’t fair.

We all hope desperately to be trusted, all want to be worthy, all want to be loved. We are all teenagers.

Teenagers will live up to the responsibility that you trust them with. If they are good, they will try to fulfill the standard that is placed. People are like this too. We have laws, we have religions mainly because most people are not mature enough to handle the responsibility of doing the right thing without someone looking over their shoulder.

People are naturally selfish. They instinctively look out for themselves, and only themselves. The only reason most ever do anything for anyone else is that they are afraid for their own salvation-their own skin. Only when we learn to love, when we care about other people more than ourselves can we be truly complete. I wish we could move towards this, though I know it will be hard.

Change is not easy; progress, by definition, takes time. Whenever something is changed-whenever a rule is made less severe-people will test the limits. They have to see exactly how far they can go before they will realize how much easier, how much better, it is for everyone if we all become more mature. More responsible. Because when we look out only for ourselves, it will naturally conflict with the interests of everyone else.

From change ensues chaos, this is where civil wars, revolutionary wars, etc. come from. People are selfish, they take advantage of reduced limits like a teenager will take advantage of a lax dress code, but people are smart too. They understand, eventually, that is better to live up to our potential. They will understand that trust can be lost, and the only way to keep freedom is to not abuse it. From change comes chaos; from chaos can come mature understanding. But it can be terribly painful getting there.

Quite often, the people who create change never get to see its results because we are all so afraid. Change scares people. It is new, it is unknown. It is uncertain. People are afraid that with change their own interests will be lost. They worry for themselves. Change takes a long time to happen, it will naturally be fought against, even if it is right. People can be selfish…it doesn’t have to be this way.

If people could learn to be responsible. To be trustworthy and caring…and productive. Change would be easy. I think they would be less afraid of it too. Laws would be unneccessary. Religion would matter only if you truly believed and wanted to understand, no more brownie points with god. How good is a good deed really if you’re only doing it for yourself? Why can’t we all just be…good. Why can’t we use common sense and learn to see that the best way to help ourselves, is to care about someone else? Why can’t we do the right because it is right, and save the broken world?

Frighteningly wonderful, horribly cad,
And slowly the dreams became more and more bad.
His dreams turned to nightmares,
and slowly poor Fred,
became less and less faithful in going to bed.

He’d ask for some water, or more milk each night,
and then beg his mother to hug him more tight.
The dreams became frightening,
and soon, every day
Longer and longer he tried to delay.

He made up excuses,
Getting slowly more strange,
And soon, poor Fred’s mom,
thought him odd and deranged.

She forced him to sleep in his own room each night,
And although he begged,
She would not hold him tight.
The worse the dreams were,
The more Fred would despair,
Chew on his fingernails, pull out his hair.

One day poor Fred’s mind,
could take it no more,
His small head exploded,
left blood on the floor.

Next day,when they found him,
mixed in with his brains,
Were pieces of memories,
and nightmares deranged.

So when someone you care for,
Is scared of the night,
Don’t run from them,
but hold them tight.
Because you never know when,
Someone you have held dear,
Will grow too afraid,
and no longer be near.

Mild self-mutilation,
Mild, so no one will ever tell,
That I’ve started to lose myself,
And lose my mind as well.

Too sane to do it anymore,
Too old, too high a key.
I’m tired of taking care,
Of everyone, but me.

Defense mechanism,
Crazy and completely sane.
But I guess I’d never go back,
Cause I’d never be the same.

I’ve depended on him so long,
Thought there was a space to fill.
But I’m tired of depending,
On my absent fathers will.

We find our adequate revenge.

Until we find, sometimes too late.

That life is gone.

We seek to find the justice,

We are sure must be their fate,

Until we find our time is wasted, we were wrong.

Watching the darkness stutter through my dreams.

I am afraid.

Pulling lose, lately I find,

that I don’t understand my mind,

I don’t know what to do.

Searching so hard, no where to hide,

Friend asked whats up, and so I lied,

to HIDE the pain inside.

festering wounds, wounded souls,

Nobody knows what makes them whole,

Endless search for complete mind,

In this we try to find our ways.

And we must find them,

Through the pain, and confusion.

Some wish to believe, some want to feel,

But all of us, we need to heal,

So when we look inside we smile,
At everything we find.

Stealthy footsteps overhead.

Are you here to take me?

Will you take someone else?

Take me…

Please.

I would very much like to leave.

Nothing here.

Nothing now…

Take me with you,

or send him back,

who you had no right to steal.

If you must have one

Take me…

Leave him.

Save him.

He can save the world…

Nothing more to say…

Say it anyway.

Let me go,

Let me leave

Miss him…

Nothing

Nothing Left

Nobody

Love him…

Nothing

Nothing

Answer me

Original Oratory

Harmony Davies

When a person dies it seems like everything they touched should disappear with them. Every park bench, every paper, every shirt, or shoe, or jacket. Everything they created or believed in, all of it. Just poof. Gone. Because it seems like the only thing that justified their existence was the persons belief in them. Once they’re dead, their world should die. Even the people they touched; they should cease to exist. Of course this doesn’t happen. We all live on. All of their things are still here, and even though it hurts more than we ever imagined it could-the world moves forward. There are only two logical theories that I can find on this; they didn’t matter, or they are not dead. Of these two theories there is only one that really makes sense to me. They are not dead. In fact, they live on in a way that could almost be considered more powerful than when their heart was still beating.

Each one of us, however insignificant, lives on as influence. The things that we do in life-the actions we take or don’t take, the words that we say and the things that we mean-all continue on after us in the minds of those who we have touched.

A persons’ death is arguably the most important part of their life. It is a summing up of everythng that we have done. It is the point where the people we care about decide if they are going to create or destroy for us. The beginnning of our lives and the middle are never as conclusive as the way we die. Death is reflective of life. The two make each other complete and whole. Without death there is no life, and vice versa; they are connected and inseperable. Death is a part of life because your life affects the way you die, and the way you die affects others; it is essential that we understand the influence that we have on others lives-and deaths-through our actions, and the changes within ourselves in reaction to others. Throughout our lives we record these reactions in the things that we create.

The things we build while we are alive are key in the influence we have when we die. Art is a huge piece of this. Songwriters, musicians, authors, dancers, painters, poets, architects, actors. All of them create pieces that help to tell the world exactly how they feel about it-how they think it could be better. Once dead, the statements they made live on in their art. So many people are still remembered simply because they created things that changed others perceptions of the world. In fact, many artists aren’t even noticed until they die. Death makes people take note of what you had to say. Why is this? It seems pointless that we don’t listen until someones dead and they can’t say anymore. This is a way that we could improve. Listening to new ideas would better our lives, and therefore our deaths.

Appreciating new ideas is a huge part of having a successful life, and a meaningful death. Throughout our lives we collect philosophies, opinions, thoughts, even habits. Things that make us, who we are. The collections we all establish are unique to our experiences. No two are exactly alike, although the opinions reached from these life experiences can be similar. It is important to come at an idea in your own way; we all have distinct perspectives on the world, and if we simply imitate someone elses opinion, we are robbing the people who we influence of our unique take on something. I recently lost someone…very close to me. How close to me is hard to describe, and I won’t bore you with the details of my personal life. That is not what you are here to listen to. But this person left a book where he had written many of his most influential ideas. It made me feel so much closer to him when I read it, because so many of his ideas where very similar to one’s I have formed. They were not identical because they were reached from a different perspective. He was a unique person, and I am my own person, but we reached many of the same conclusions coming from two different sides. I think we were both significantly changed by our close proximity to the others reality. In fact, they almost melded to form another, more perfect reality. These ideas helped me to build my perception of the world. For example, he said that, as a group, humans are like cockroaches-multiplying when resources deplete and with no great ideas or aspirations, merely survival. But as an individual, a human is beautiful, unique, artistic, and progressive. How many people do you know who could say that and not sound stupid? I knew one. He had one of the most beautiful perspectives on life that I have ever seen, and now that he’s dead, those are the things that make me cry. When someone dies, they leave their theories on life. People remember what you were, who you were; your beliefs, your little habits and gestures, the way you looked, even the way you smelled…In this way we live on as memories.

The people who you affect during the course of your life are the people who will be most affected by your death. Then the people who they touch will in turn be changed by the fact that you existed. Every choice that we make limits or expands the choices that we may have in the future, but not only that. What we decide today affects the choices of others. A parent who goes into a great deal of debt will leave that debt to their children. A close friend who chose to not pass on a secret that needed to be known will have that knowledge lost forever with their death. We are all connected, whether we like it or not. Love connects us all. We are so much more affected by the death of someone we love, than by the death of someone who we didn’t know. Everyone loves someone, and that someone will love someone else. There are huge networks of people, all loving each other by default. When you can find someone who you think deserves to be happy, and can know that you made them that way…that is what life is about. “Life isn’t worth living unless it is lived for someone else.” A very smart man, Albert Einstein said that. And I can personally testify to the accuracy of this statement. I found someone to live for. For the first time in my life I found someone who I wanted to take care of. Everyone else, I felt that I had to. With him I didn’t have to, but I couldn’t help but want him to be happy. I was willing to do anything to see him smile. The great part was, that he wanted me to be happy too. That is true love. That is what we work our whole lives to find. When he died, and I couldn’t know that he was happy or ok anymore, I just kept thinking of how he used to kiss my nose. I kept thinking of how we’d talked about everything. I thought about how we talked about perfection and figured out the meaning of life together. I kept waiting for him to knock on my window. I keep waiting. He never comes, but I still live for him, even though he is not here. When you lose someone you really love, there is a huge void where they use to be. We affect people with our deaths, because we are missed.

There is no perfect, but perfect in context. A puzzle piece. Everything has someplace where it can fit. Finding true love, where you love them and they love you back, that is perfect in context. When someone dies there is a piece missing for a very long time, possibly forever. No other person can fill our place in the world in exactly the same way we did. This hole leaves a presence more dominant than anyone who has not experienced it could ever imagine. This hole, although it has been known to cause people to do things that are perhaps not commendable, can also make people do great things. Grief can make people do great things, because they do it in the name of somebody that they loved. It is your choice, when you lose someone, to create or destroy. I hope that I can create something worthwhile. I know that you can, whoever you are, because we all have the potential to have meant something, to someone. This doesn’t mean that in order to have a great influence we must die.

Death is only the climax of life, if you don’t have a good plot, then what’s the point? Bertholt Brecht said “Do not be afraid of death so much as inadequate life.” He said this because, to have an incredible death, we must first live an incredible life. We can always do more, and be better. The important thing is to be the best person possible in whatever time we have. The ideas that we form in life are the ones that will be built on by others during our lives, and after our deaths. We must always be aware of the affect we have on everyone, and the affect that they are having on us. We need to learn from other people, and understand what they have to say, hopefully before they are gone.

Find somebody to live for, who you think deserves to be happy. Love someone, really, who make’s you a better person. Your life will be significant, because it will have been lived for someone you love. Love as many people as you can in the course of your life, make it as full and wonderful as you are capable of, because the point is that once you’re dead it will affect other people. After people die, we need to take the initiative to do as much as possible, because that is what we will want when we are dead and our influence is spreading over the world.