shiva the destroyer

that's me.
it's rainy and cold and grey, inside and out today.

this is nothing new, learning to deal with the aftermath of my passionate feelings.

but that is me, and that is me and that is me.
throwing fireballs just to burn myself.

when i am hurt,
the easiest thing for me to do always is run.
just bolt.
and i do.
repeatedly.
i am the distance.
the easiest thing is to be the distance.

the distance is long and the distance is cold.
it is a frozen runway that allows no passers.
it is an empty heart that is bruised and battered, and loves no one
except the one
that i love best
like a tattered teddy bear
with a crooked nose
my love has worn him
almost threadbare.
this threadbare love
is all i can manage
my heart is not taking reservations or appointments
and any preconcieved notions
can be dumped out the window
with the dirty bathwater

and as much as all this hurts
it has been the thing
that has let me feel better
has let me guard my poor strangled heart
and whisper to it that the craziness is over
and it's just you and me again
the way it should be
the only way i can trust it not to hurt

and it's not like me to hate.
and i don't.
not really.
but the fire has been set
and it burned down the house
so here i sit
with the blackened match
that started it all.
so it doesn't really matter how i feel now
just that i set the fire.

(no subject)

so, ya think ya know me?
go ahead.
make my day.