MorningStar's blog: "This Side Of Borderline"

created on 03/26/2009 | http://fubar.com/this-side-of-borderline/b287316

posted on 06/30/2009&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;08:06&nbs-07:00;pm

Now -that- was quite a show.
http://fubar.com/now-that-was-quite-a-show/b287316-1040156

I am tainted, tarnished, used and forgotten. Don't spare me a glance. My soul has been broken as well as my heart. I have nothing I can give you that hasn't been taken, unwillingly at times. I am a magician, casting spells, weaving smoke and mirror parlor tricks, beckoning you to see my illusions. They are so grand, just open your eyes, you'll be delighted or a money back guarantee. It's nothing but a show, entertainment at best, don't blink or you'll miss the rest. With my snowy white skin, my brown eyes of fire, I can show you your very heart's desire. I am a jack of all trades and a master of none. Take a seat, enjoy the show, where it stops no one shall ever know.

Come one, come all, I will show you a sight. I stand on this pedestal before you a broken woman, the pieces thrown near and far. Don't worry, you'll get your money's worth, for that wasn't the trick at all. Look inside, my heart is gone, I am left empty and all alone. I am a mere puppet, here for your viewing pleasure. Pull my strings, make me talk or use me to your hearts content. I am a cast off, thrown away and forgotten. It's all part of the show folks, don't worry, it will be ok. The curtain will eventually close and with it my story.

Now that I have your attention, I shall show you my finest act. It took me years to master the biggest illusion of them all. Sit back, hold on and don't say a word. Are you ready? It's death defying, it's terrifying, it's absolutely astounding. The beginning of the trick is so horrifying that it has never been attempted before. First I shall let you into my mind, see all the things I keep hidden, locked away under lock and key. Please don't cry dear friends, it's only pain, nothing to worry about. Now the second part of the trick is the hardest. Watch closely, don't want you to miss it. I look you in the eye, and...

I smile.

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posted on 06/30/2009&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;08:06&nbs-07:00;pm

Cutter's Lullaby
http://fubar.com/cutter-s-lullaby/b287316-1040154

Let’s go to sleep, Close our eyes,
And dream of broken butterflies,
That tore their wings against a thorn.
We know the pain that they have borne.

Silver metal, shine so bright.
Scarlet blood that feels so right.
Dream of blood tickling down,
And wake up just before we drown.

The moonlight’s shining off our tears,
As we bleed out our own worst fears.
So tonight we start to cry,
And sing the Cutter’s lullaby…

Hushabye baby, you’re almost dead.
You have no pulse and your pillow is red.
Your family hates you and your friends let you bleed,
Sleep tight with a knife because that’s all you need.

Rockabye baby, broken and scarred,
You didn’t know life would be this hard.
Time to end the pain that you hid so well,
And down will come baby, straight back to hell.

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posted on 06/10/2009&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;07:06&nbs-07:00;pm

The Tragic Story
http://fubar.com/the-tragic-story/b287316-1032693

They say beauty is wasted on the insane and deranged. Not a day goes by without the wish, that it was all a lie.

Self control is given no quarter and here comes another mood swing, once again, my emotions control me. Once again, rage is king and depression reigns supreme.

The depths of empathy and failure have succumbed to my misery and with the desperate throbs of passion I have chosen this ultimate path, in which I find the answers to deny the future of all my sanity. None of this makes sense and with knowing that sad, sick, statistic I have overruled my boundaries. One second I find myself immensely and utterly madly happy... The the next I am drunken off my own sadness and morbidness, with tears and cries and screams of doubt rushing through my empty soul and lost for words on how I feel. No one even begins to understand what exactly I feel, it all makes perfect sense in my fucked up ill mind. But the truth is... It doesn't... It never does... And it never will.

I swept the ocean floor with the soles of my feet. I breathed in the pollen from a thousand blooming poppies. I slept among the tall grasses of an open meadow. I held a bright full moon the the palm of my hands. I smiled and for once didn't regret for a second what I've become.

I walked wearily in a dark, damp cave. I swam in the murky waters of a bubbling swamp. I tiptoed on a tight rope strung across a valley of jagged rocks. I listened to the moaning of the humid summer wind. I exhaled heavily and questioned intently what I've become.

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posted on 04/13/2009&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;04:04&nbs-07:00;am

Escape into Madness
http://fubar.com/escape-into-madness/b287316-1009516

I want to be more. I will rise from all of this. I will become a part of something new. But, I will not escape; I will face.

I am shaking even thinking about you. But it isn't you... it is beyond you. It is in my head, and I have created it.

I am shaking...

Years have passed and I am shaking... with even the thought of you. It is more than you...

And even the smallest of reminders, send me into a state of panic.

Why... couldn't I just take drugs... or slit my wrists, spilling my blood onto the carpets... or get piss drunk every night, until I die?

Why did I have to feed in this?

It is all so fucking trivial: Good grades, a future, and hope? And yet the smallest of reminders, makes me fucking shake.

On the floor naked, my pitch black carpet on the floor, with swirling designs... yes, "you've seen it" on my knees and leaning into my arms... head in my hands... looking in some direction. Tapping... fucking tapping... keep on going... it keeps on going... the tapping of my heart... the tapping of my fingers... It is still fucking going!

WHY CAN'T I FUCKING STOP! WHY CAN'T I FUCKING PUT AN END TO THIS!

Because this is more... this is beyond.

Screaming raccoons in bottles of piss. I drink it in my sleep in the back of my head.

I can't figure it out. There is no logic that physics or calculus can solve of this...

Years have past... it must have been years of avoiding... because tonight I broke down in the thought of you. The more than you... the beyond you... me inside of myself.

Can't I face it somehow?

Why did I have to stop every outlet I had... threw away my razor... haven't cut in ages... lies... my knuckles haven't felt worn in months...

For such an emotion... why can't an emotional personality solve it?

I am not afraid to admit anything...

Years has past, yet... it must be that it is more than you. A tower I have pieced together from the rubble you left behind... and I built it strong... apparently... I can't fucking break it down. I am insane.

Don't fucking lecture me about what I can feel... because this is beyond anything... this is insanity... the one I have created in the pitt of me... am I alive? am I speaking?

So much has happened... yet... it is nothing.

You are not you. You are emotion... a figure I have built inside of me. A figure that holds my sanity in your complexity... I can't even understand the figure... in unreliable... unexplainable... discontent... of the palm of it's hand. You are an it's... because you are beyond... you are not real. I can't face the figure... because I don't know where it is inside of me.

I am full of shit. A mirror... a mirror... a mirror.

I won't fall? Why can't I fall? because...

...I want to be more. I will rise from all of this. No matter what... No matter how long it takes...

I could be on my deathbed... and they tell me: "some things...never get solved"

But I will find you, no matter how beyond you are inside of me.

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posted on 03/26/2009&nbs-07:00;@&nbs-07:00;03:03&nbs-07:00;pm

This Side Of Borderline
http://fubar.com/this-side-of-borderline/b287316-1000704

I’m afraid. Not of people. Not of things. But of me. I suppose that wouldn’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t really put any deep thought into themselves. But I think… perhaps if you think about it you’ll understand. It’s all about control. Not the control of other people. Not their control over you. It’s about control of yourself. There’s a place in everyone’s mind, no matter how large, that they’re afraid think about. Afraid that if they venture there they’ll never find their way out. A place so dark that you’d rather forget it ever existed, than tread there, or let anyone else know it’s there. It’s the festering wound where all your bad thoughts, all you fears, all your terrible nightmares, and all the things you’re capable of flock to like germs to a wound. But you can’t bandage it up, and it doesn’t heal. It’s always open, always inviting in some way, and very very dangerous. Some people have nightmares. Some people have daydream visions. Some people have the odd bad imagining, a mental picture that’s there and then gone in the blink of an eye. We all push those thoughts away. We all try to convince ourselves that it’s the world that’s bad, and that we are the good shining examples of what the world needs more of. We do anything to deny what we know is there, even before we really know it’s there. We put off for as long as possible the very idea of it. We know that once it takes root coping with it will be the fight of a lifetime. And there’s not a sword in the world, nor ax, nor hatchet, nor smoking gun that will make even the slightest of dents. The very first time I realized this place was there skulking just off my peripheral I was in college. In a writing class I happened to be taking at the time we were asked to write a story about a monster. The things that came out of my head were so scary I never managed to finish that story. Never managed to write more than a few pages, an outline of the history of this killer, intangible, but very real, and I think that what the story was really about was that dark dank corner of the mind everyone who knows anything tries to avoid. I realized it was there and I was so afraid of it that I stopped writing. Stopped writing that story and started writing another, about a “monster” that was so virtually harmless, a story that was funny, comical, and very much played to peoples humor rather than their fear. The problem is, I suppose, that I know that somewhere in that corner of my mind is a great story. It’s there just lurking, waiting to be written, but I’m afraid that even acknowledging that it’s there will make it more real for me, and the realer it is, the more that place will become a part of me, and I don’t want to ever admit that it even might be. Of course, this is the part of my mind that could make me great. The part of me where all the best talent is. The part of me where all of my wildest thoughts and dreams, and ideals are skewed in a way that would make people enjoy reading again. I can feel around the edges of my writing where denying this place has stunted it. I think the reason some of the best artists are drunks and drug abusers is not because the drugs or the alcohol makes you a better writer. It’s just the only way a sane person who wishes to stay sane can tap into that place. This is riskier. The longer something goes unanswered the more forceful it becomes. Already that place chases me in my dreams. It corners me, pounding at the door to a room with no other exits. Anything could happen that could trigger it, and let it in. And then I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t think there’s a way to prepare for it. I don’t think there’s a way to escape it. There’s definitely no way to deal with such a thing and remain unchanged and more importantly remain in control. Instead I think I’ll keep on stacking words, piling pronouns, prepositions, prose and literary presentations in front of that door. Keep on writing and creating so that maybe when that door bursts open the sheer amount of paper and words will slow it down. Maybe.

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MorningStar