Melanie. Hardcore.

Just when I think you were forgotten.
Here you are again.
I once felt safe.
You track me through the fog.
Lost in my the maze of my past
stumbling around the darkest of corners.
The gravel burrowed deep into my palms.
Insecurities.
Buried in the brush
the thorns dig into my scalp, my thighs, my lungs.
Your breathing on my neck
Calloused hands around my hips.
Why can’t I escape you?
Eyes Open.

I just owned the FUCK out of a paper. That is all.

Go on tear me apart
it’s what you’re good at.
I can’t let it all fall on me
the crushing, tumbling, stones crashing against my lungs
I never intended to lose control.
Mirrors shatter at the thought
and I can’t bear to see what stands before me.
Perhaps she was right after all
Selfish, cruel, traitor
but it can’t be swallowed.
I expected more.
Truth has the ability to burn the most.
Your teeth rip my flesh 
I can’t cry out.
Everything will be lost.
I can’t cry out.

Come on baby, smile for me.

Lost in the whirlwind of sand and glass
these emotions know no bounds.
The last of the well has dried
and no one remembers the way home.
Such desolate roads ahead,
the map written in blood.
But the old whisper not to go
and melt into the desert sun.

The miles simply go higher
we close our eyes until the final moment.
The severed metal clashes to bone
but this was to be expected.
How can you be this way?
The mother slaughtering her only child.
I trusted you, I loved you
but this was all in vain.
I am buried alive.

And the truth is
we all think we know how things should be.
So we walk into the sunset
shielding our eyes from the rays.
(sadly the light shows much too much)
she is so afraid.
How we got this far has been long forgotten
what could have been has flown with the winds.
All we have now are paper-clippings of a distant past

and then we had sworn that’s all there was. 

-Melanie. 

I remember the day I first met lady. It was a hot summer day and she took shelter from burning sun in her small dog house. She was a tiny thing covered in shabby white fur that was slightly dirty most of the time but not overly so. Lady was an “outside dog” as my grandfather called it and had been rescused by my grandmother many years before when they found her a bloody heap in the front yard. My grandmother nursed her back to health and the dog basically just kept to herself.

I never remember playing with her much or helping feed her. She wasn’t a mean dog per se but the memories just weren’t there. I found this odd because I was an animal lover from birth and then any memory of her vanished and she simply ceased to be.

After realizing this I became more curious and decided to talk to my grandmother about it. Her eyes fell to the ground and studied the grass. “Oh, Lady…,” she whispered. And then she proceeded to tell me the story of Lady’s disappearance.

Lady had stayed on the property for many years after her brush with death; remaining a well behaved dog all the while. My grandmother fed her every morning before the rest of the house awoke and that was when she found her.

The freshly dewed grass was splattered with blood from the dog’s open neck. Her jaw was open to fend off the attacker and her chain had been yanked with such ferocity that it, and the planks which it was bolted to, were ripped from the small hut and now lay next to the innocent victim.

The story shocked me. Not from the attack itself but that this attack had now happened twice to the poor mutt before her painful demise.

I suppose there is no moral to the story here and this is just a sad but not at all uncommon story for an animal. Or perhaps this message is so simple that it is easy to overlook. Fate is inescapable, even for mangey, little dogs.

The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed.-Buddha

As you have the ability to read I will assume that you have used or at least saw a Composition Notebook at some point in your life; you know the ones that come in various colors (the most famous is black) and have the appearance of camouflage. Although thinking about it, the camouflage style is not very practical. Most of us don’t live in camo houses or attend camo schools so these notebooks stick out like a damn sore thumb but no matter. If you ever open one up, the inside of the back cover is dedicated to USEFUL INFORMATION or what the printers of Composition Notebooks translate as Multiplication tables and various forms of weight and measurement. I don’t know why but I was immediately annoyed by this. Where is the English Geek version or the other subject sections of USEFUL INFORMATION? Since when has math become the center of the universe? Or how about the printers develop a version where they actual put useful life lessons in a notebook for you to stumble upon while you are dying to get out of class?

Maybe I’m just having an off day but I have never thought this section was useful and I have had an unhealthy love for Composition Notebooks ever since I was 6. So changing it up or making different variations of the useful info to entertain the world may be a better choice than a conversion table. Just saying.