I don’t want to sleep tonight.
I don’t want to sleep ever again.
For my dreams relentlessly haunt me
With the specter of an alternate reality.
Once during a very stressful time,
I had a dream of being stuffed into a microwave
And cooked alive, writhing in agony.
The next morning I woke up in so much pain.
My muscles were stiff and unyielding.
I couldn’t even go to work that day.
My dreams now are worse.
And they come every night.
Every night is a different story.
Every night is a different adventure.
The dreams in and of themselves
Are not what bother me.
Nothing bad happens in these dreams.
Nothing painful is done to me.
The Dreamwalker doesn’t torture me.
And calamity doesn’t occur.
No, every night she shows up.
The dream isn’t about her,
But she is always there.
As if nothing ever happened.
And when I close my eyes I forget
Everything that happened too.
I forget that she had made her choice
To cut me off and never speak again.
When my mind enters
The space between time
It forgets about reality.
And tortures me with what can never be.
She’s there with me.
Everything is normal.
We don’t argue.
We don’t discuss the past.
She’s just there, always present.
I could be working in a strange job,
Picking out a new apartment,
Playing with my dog, or going for a walk.
It doesn’t matter what the dream is about.
She always shows up.
Why won’t you let me forget in peace?
Why won’t you stop torturing me?
Every morning I am forced when I rise
To second guess every second of the last three years.
I am forced to wonder what went wrong
That caused happiness to exist only in dreams.
It was a rare thing for me to remember
The adventures of the previous night’s slumber.
Not anymore.
I remember everything in excruciating detail.
You see, not only did she leave me,
But she left me holding the bag.
So many unanswered questions
I don’t even know what went wrong.
And in this plane of existence,
The one where I have no control,
I can only ask those questions at the wind,
Because she has suppressed our ability to communicate.
So every night, I slip into the stream
Of a parallel universe.
A universe without questions.
A universe without answers.
But a universe with her.
She refuses to leave.
She is waiting for me now
To drift into her clutches again tonight.
For the casualty is his own soul.
But the triage list doesn’t end there.
It is all who accept his control.
Bitterness eats him alive like a cancer,
And he feeds the cancer with glee.
He spreads the disease to those he would touch.
And today, he offered it to me.
Challenged to fight, I wasn’t afraid.
I was ready to take on his guile.
But then I remembered something that gave me pause:
His daughter’s sweet and innocent smile.
I was warned the fight would cost me dear
Even though I could probably win.
But every war has its share of collateral damage.
And that is why I finally gave in.
For the weapon he weilds in this particular fight
Is the one I love more than my life.
He wants to cut out my heart (what little is left),
But he would make his own daughter the knife.
What makes a man so sick and so sickly depraved?
His own parents disowned him long ago.
Not speaking to them for near twenty years
Surely has made his cancer grow.
Twenty years ago he tried to share his disease:
He told his daughter he bought her for a dish.
With his lie he wanted to stifle her own mother’s love.
And for years he got his own wish.
Her eyes were first opened as a young little thing
When her own step-mother beat her down.
Physically and emotionally abused to a pulp
She decided it was time to leave town.
Into her mother’s loving arms she fled
Almost escaping his deadly snare.
But he pulled her back in with money and lies.
For his sickness he needed to share.
It was during this time that I met this dear girl,
Though a woman she wanted to become.
It was during this time she told me of how
Her father was abusing her numb.
I listened in horror at the stories she shared
Of a childhood raked through the fire.
Like the times that they teased their poor little girl
For singing in her middle-school choir.
Try as I might to make the pain go away,
I found myself in the middle of a war:
A war between this man and his hatred for love;
A war filled with her guts and my gore.
Though an angel to me, I was weak in my love
And I treated her, sadly, less than such.
So the cancer took hold and burrowed deep in her soul
Immune to love’s tender touch.
As her quest to discover herself pressed on
I found myself clearly in the way.
For how could I support a woman who only
Knows how to submit and obey?
Meanwhile her father made her feel like the trash
That is thrown out with yesterday’s news.
And that poor girl in her fragile state,
This sick man continued to abuse.
Until the blame for her misery fell into a line.
And that line pointed squarely at me.
Thought I share a small part for the pain she’s endured,
I bore all of the blame for her misery.
The poor girl is the victim of a cancerous man
Who teaches hate and bitterness and scorn.
And despite my best efforts to reconcile with my love,
From my side she’s been violently torn.
Like a puppet on a string, she dances to his tune,
Causing pain and destruction in her wake.
But little does she know she’s fighting his war,
And both of our hearts are bound to break.
Identity is not found is singing another’s tune,
And the excuse that they’re blood doesn’t work.
But like father, like daughter, she embraces his disease,
While her step-mother chases me with a smirk.
And he passes his disease onto his daughter with grace.
She accepts it without making a sound.
I throw myself on my sword for the battle to end,
And I float on the tide, nearly downed.
I want nothing more than her eternal happiness,
A wish I fear will never arrive.
For today I learned that she has embraced his disease,
And I’m afraid she will not survive.
Blood is no excuse to poison your soul
With conflict and venomous hate.
Forgiveness and reconciliation is the only cure,
But for her, it may already be too late.
Two years of darkness she has chosen to abide.
Two years of just wandering lost.
Without closure, without a word, without forgiveness, without love,
Two years come at a precious cost.
And that cost that I speak of is a balm for the soul,
A cure for the cancer that grows.
Yet the cancer is in her, like father, like daughter,
And its tragic, but that’s just how life goes.
Reconcile your differences with those who offend.
Don’t burn bridges with those who love you.
Don’t trust blood – because it’s meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
Blood isn’t a magical glue.
It won’t hold your soul together, it may tear it apart
By bitterness and hatred and spite.
It won’t teach you a thing about being yourself.
It won’t give you your wings to take flight.
Like father, like daughter, the cancer has spread.
She has chosen the dark path instead.
I only pray that someday she will square things with me
Before it’s too late and we’re both dead.
Soundtrack to this poem: “Desmond & Penny” by Michael Giacchino
“Crying Girl” by chozoWarrior (chozo-warrior.deviantart.com)
So, it would seem that Rick Santorum has decided to drop out of the Presidential race – or at least suspend his bid (an important technicality).
What does this mean?
News outlets are now calling the race in favor of Mitt Romney. But, they seem to be getting a bit ahead of themselves. Why? Because the nomination is won by getting 1,144 delegates and Romney still has a fight on his hands to get that number.
I’ve been watching Cincinnati’s Fox-19 where evening news anchor Ben Swann has done some fantastic reporting in his Reality Check segment explaining how wrong the AP projected delegate count actually is. Considering the current projection, I think Mitt Romney sure hopes it is wrong… or is the AP trying to send us a subtle hint?
You will see, that Lemon Global, a Ron Paul supporter blog has very different delegate projections. While they are possibly biased in favor of Ron Paul, the blog’s author posts that he has tried to make them as conservative as possible and may actually be underestimating Ron Paul’s delegate count. Here is what he projected the delegate count would be on April 4th, and to the right is his prediction after Santorum’s withdrawal assuming that Santorum delegates are all unbound (which they aren’t) and that they almost all swing towards Ron Paul (which is doubtful).
At any rate, Ben Swann over at Fox-19 , Cincinnati, has done a wonderful job explaining exactly what is going to happen to Santorum’s delegates.
Of course, not everyone is as optimistic that the race isn’t over. FiveThirtyEight over at the New York Times has published an article stating that the race has reached its Endgame and begin to perform a “living autopsy” on Ron Paul’s campaign: http://nyti.ms/HIDiGD. Here is something interesting though: They show that Ron Paul has more than doubled his vote count and vote share since 2008 despite raising slightly less money than he did in his 2008 campaign.
So is the race over, or is there a fighting chance for New Gingrich and Ron Paul?
Newt Gingrich, Ron Paul Vow To Stay In GOP Primary Race
Apparently, both Newt Gingrich and Ron Paul believe they have something to gain by staying in the race. Does that mean either of them think that a brokered convention is still a possibility and they could still win? That is certainly what Ron Paul thinks.
At this point, who is likely to perform better? My guess is it will easily be Ron Paul. Newt Gingrich’s campaign is $4.5 million in the red according to the Christian Science Monitor, and his $500 check to get on the ballot in Utah just bounced this week. The man is in trouble. It is obvious he has no financial sense, though, what with his impossible-to-keep promise of lowering gas prices to $2.50/gallon and his idea that a moon colony large enough to apply for statehood is a reality in the next decade.
On the other hand, Ron Paul’s campaign is flush with cash and having another big grassroots money bomb on Tax Day to raise funding to blanket Texas with this clever new ad:
Meanwhile, Ron Paul’s plan of racking up delegates in states he “lost” is paying off big time. In St. Charles County, Missouri, where the caucus was originally shut down and leading Ron Paul supporter, Brent Stafford, was arrested for who knows what, the script has been flipped in the do-over caucus. Brent Stafford was elected chairman of the caucus and Ron Paul went on to win all the delegates to the district convention. This is huge, considering it is the largest caucus in Missouri and positions Ron Paul to possibly sweep the entire slate of 52 delegates up for grabs in Missouri.
In Colorado, where the delegate selection process is also still underway and the Ron Paul campaign has already bragged of winning majority and unanimous slates of delegates, CBS-4, Denver reports a groundswell of interest in the GOP State C0nvention. Look for Ron Paul to do extremely well there and pick up many more delegates than the AP has estimated.
But isn’t Romney unstoppable? Not according to CBS News.
Romney still needs almost 500 delegates to clinch GOP nomination
According to this CBS News article, Mitt Romney must win 80% of all the remaining delegates up for grabs in April and May in order to cinch the nomination. And that is assuming that he has the amount he is estimated to have – which could, in fact, be fewer.
This race is far from over, and only promises to get more interesting from here on out. Although some are speculating that Santorum’s suspension of his campaign has made the brokered convention strategy less likely, they are missing a key point. Romney supporters are more likely to stay home now that they think their candidate has the nomination in the bag. Paul supporters aren’t going anywhere and are more enthusiastic and committed than ever before. And Santorum supporters, who were comprised of two primary factions, Anti-Romney folks and Evangelical drones, are now faced with the tough decision of where to turn now that their main man has let them down.
Dough Wead, former Special Assistant to George H.W. Bush and advisor to the Ron Paul campaign reports that Ron Paul is meeting with Evangelical leaders this week to take up the standard for the coalition that was giving Santorum his edge in the heartland. The Anti-Romney vote is now faced with choosing between broke-as-a-joke Gingrich, Ron Paul, and staying home.
Meanwhile, Ron Paul marches on, drawing bigger and bigger crowds and showing no signs of slowing down.
Sitting, sitting, waiting, waiting
Always calling out
Never calling in.
Sometimes I feel like calling it in.
Reaching out, reaching, reaching
Stretching and coming up empty handed.
An aroma of hope
is swept away
on the breeze.
Is that.. Do I smell…
something burning?
Stacks and stacks
of books
to keep me company.
A little company would be nice
Would be nice, would be nice
Hearts are like pincushions
where people leave their pins.
It seems more pins go in
than come out.
Somewhere in my closet
in a long forgotten box
is an old pincushion
long forgotten,
buried under strings and cloth.
A forgotten hobby,
sewing.
Forgotten.
A closet full of junk;
A room full of clutter.
And yet the room feels
so empty
with just me in it.
Surrounded by books, movies, and games.
Books: to discuss with friends.
Movies: to watch with friends.
Games: to play with friends.
And yet, something is missing.
What could it be?
Oh yeah…
Irony.
I think everyone assumes
that I always have plans,
and that seems to play a part
in keeping my schedule free.
What irony.
Its kinda funny, right?
Its supposed to be funny.
But its not.
There are certain people
that you’d rather just avoid
because they… well…
How can I put this nicely?
Scare the crap out of you?
But then there are certain people
that you’d like nothing more
than to hang out with all the time.
And for some reason
they want nothing to do with you
or at least little to nothing.
Maybe they’re scared.
Maybe they don’t care.
Maybe I’m one of those people
that cool people want to avoid.
So most days are spent alone.
What irony.
Its kinda funny, right?
Its supposed to be funny.
But its not.
I moved in closer.
Closer to the action.
But the action swirls around me
and I see it all the time now.
I see what I’m not a part of.
I miss my train ride home.
I miss my train ride away from it all.
Being here.
In my empty tomb.
Full of books, movies, and games.
Is like being in a graveyard
in the middle of a main street
with people clomping and stomping
with their boots and shoes overhead.
So, I moved in closer.
Closer to the action.
Only to discover
that I’m not a part of it.
Its like dipping in your toe
but never going in the water.
Punishment
for all those times
I wimped out
and walked away.
What irony.
Its kinda funny, right?
Its supposed to be funny.
But its not.
Why don’t you stop pretending
to be my friend
when you don’t really care.
I’d rather know the truth.
Life has been so disappointing
for me.
Please don’t add to it.
Please don’t.
I’m not angry.
Just lonely.
Just lonely.
Just lonely.
Zachariah’z stealin’ a ride down the train-tracks of life
in an empty ole’ boxcar.
Feelin’ like he dropped a few things along the way.
Guess things are bound to fall off
in that bumpy ole’ ride.
Just never figured it’d feel like there were so so many
missed opportunities.
There’s a scratching and a screeching
as the train makes another stop
in a dried up po’ Western town.
Wonder how long this one’ll be,
or if there’s time to hop off, look around,
and kick up some dust fo’ a change.
People always told you
“Be yourself!”
“Just be yourself!”
“You gotta be yourself!”
“To thy own self,
Be true.”
So you tried it,
And you found
You found out
Things about yourself
From those people
Certain things
You never knew.
You’re a nerd,
You’re obnoxious,
You’re annoying, and a dork
You like weird thing,
And your humor
Your “sense” of humor
What sense of humor?
You’re way uncool.
All you did was
All you did
You just relaxed
Just got comfortable
You were yourself
Just yourself, and nothing more
Nothing less
Just you.
Turns out
As it turns out
No one really
No one wants you
Wants you to be
Be yourself
Just yourself
What a crock, what a lie
But you learn
What to do.
So you’re quiet
And reserved
Not too much
But not too little…
Okay,
So when you’re done
Let’s be honest
Can we be honest?
There’s little left
Nothing’s real
Just a microscopic version
Of the real
Of the actual
Of the actual
Real you.
You get along
But no one knows
No one knows you
You know no one
And you’re hidden
In a shroud
Behind a curtain
In a grave.
Now you’re just
Shallow
Nice, but shallow
Not a person
Not a person
Not a person
Not a person
Just a shallow
Shallow, hollow,
Micro, shadow,
Phantom, echo,
Puppet, bimbo…
Just a heel,
Just a heel,
Not a person
Not a person.
Was it worth it?
Could it not be?
Was it really really worth it?
And you ponder
And conclude.
That it was
It was worth it
Then again, that it wasn’t
Cuz’ it’s not worth it
No, not really
But there was nothing
Nothing else
You could do.
You had your choices
You made your choices
You chose no choices
There was nothing
Nothing else
Nothing really
Nothing else
You could do.
Be yourself
But they hate you
Be yourself
But they can’t stand you
Be yourself
But they’ll destroy you
Destroy yourself
Do it, do it,
Make them ask
Make them wonder
Never know
That you’re who.
Now you’re gone
It’s self-inflicted
They’ll never know
Because they’re happy
They’ll never know
And they don’t care
They’ll never know
And you won’t let them
They’ll never know
The real one:
You.
How are you sleeping?
I’m not sleeping so well…
I lie in bed,
In the dark,
Exhausted and yet,
Wide awake.
I’ve done all the things
I was supposed to do:
I did my homework.
I cleaned my room.
I brushed my teeth.
I said my prayers.
I lay in bed
Praying.
Praying for God to put me to sleep.
Praying for God to put my mind at ease.
The answer comes
In the form of silence.
I guess I have to find sleep on my own.
How are you sleeping?
I’m not sleeping at all…
Sometimes my mind
Is full of words.
Words march
In a single file line
Across my brain
Like ants,
Marching with a purpose
Up and down the cracks of the sidewalk.
Sometimes my mind if full of nothing.
Nothing but waves
In a never ending ocean.
Nothing helps.
Reading doesn’t help.
I am either unable to focus
On what I am reading.
Or I concentrate too much.
Sometimes my mind becomes so focused
I wonder how it is possible.
Words leap off the page
Directly into my brain.
I seem to be taking
Every sight in
All at once.
How are you sleeping?
I’m not sleeping too much these days…
I was exhausted earlier.
Yet something is missing.
I lay in bed wondering
What is missing.
I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Something is certainly missing.
What could it be?
Every day I accomplish
As much as I can.
Every night
I lay in bed
Feeling like I accomplished
Nothing.
What is it my mind
Wants me to do?
What is it my body longs for?
Where has that sweet feeling
Of rest
And certainly,
Safety
And comfort,
Hope
And peace…
Gone?
How are you sleeping?
Hopefully better than I…
For your sake,
I hope sweet rest
Finds you
When your head hits the pillow.
I hope you feel
Like you had a good day.
I hope you feel
Like nothing is missing.
I hope you feel
Like sleeping is the right thing to do
When you lie down to do it.
And sleep well.
Undisturbed.
Maybe I am afraid
Of the dreams that will come.
The dreams I don’t remember,
But I wish I did.
Or do I?
I know that whatever is missing
Finds me in my dreams.
It taunts me
Until I wake up,
And then,
It is gone
Leaving me helpless,
But to relive
Another day
Missing
Something.
Something
Is missing.
I can’t say what it is.
Something won’t let me
Sleep like I should.
When will I find it?
When will I sleep?
How are you sleeping?
I’m not doing so well…
Just know
That for your sake
I hope you sleep
Well.
I’ve been in bed
For over three hours.
Or what some might call
An eternity.
I know I’ll sleep eventually.
I hope I will.
And I hope I’ll wake
When the time is right
Rested.
Not plagued with fatigue
From fighting ghosts
In my dreams.
Do you dream?
Do you love your dreams?
Do you sleep when you should?
And wake at the right time?
I hope you do.
I hope you have it all:
Good sleep.
Good dreams.
Good mornings.
He walked alone
On his path of life
Trudging along, refusing to abate
Not expecting
To meet a beautiful siren
Who forever would alter his fate
He saw her as the sun
Came up in the morning
Casting its rays upon her face and hair
Should he leave his path
To meet this beautiful stranger?
Should he risk it? Should he dare?
Then she noticed him and smiled
Ever so gently
With a smile that melted his heart
So cautiously he approached her
With a curious longing
And his life began to imitate art
“It’s you!” he said
Not really knowing why
“Are you also on a path alone?”
“I was…” she replied
In a voice like a whisper
Hope revealed in her voice’s pure tone
And they noticed their paths
Seemed to wind together
So they walked along in peace
Side by side they walked
And shared their stories
And their loneliness began to decrease
Cautiously he reached out
And took her by the hand
But she didn’t pull back or retreat
Instead she squeezed
His hand back gently
It was a joyful moment of love so sweet
“I feel something
Like our destinies pulling
Us together for a purpose,” he said
“I feel it too
Though our paths are uncertain”
She replied and they both turned bright red
“I have to warn you
I’m afraid of life’s great trials
Are you willing to crash and burn with me?”
She stopped for a moment
Puzzled at the question
But decided this was too good to flee
And caught up in love’s
Sweet intoxication
And the warmth of his strong embrace
“Yes” she replied
With no more hesitation
Then held him close, his chest against her face
And in that embrace
She could feel his heart beating
Faster she heard it thumping with joy
And the joy took her over
In sweet elation
Full of love nothing could destroy
So together they marched
On a single path
Hand in hand, and side by side
Seeing few hard times
On the road ahead of them
Confident through all they could abide
Unexpectedly, the path
Became quite rocky
And she stumbled nearly falling apart
But he picked her up and
With all the strength in him
He carried her with the love in his heart
In his weakness he stumbled
Nearly dropping his love
But he refused to set her down
Though it hurt her at times
He squeezed her tighter
His strength and love never ceased to abound
Finally, he weakened
And began to falter
Facing a rough path of his own
But she kept him going
With hugs and kisses
He kept going because he wasn’t alone
There were times when their path
Became such a struggle
They reached inward trying to make it alone
And each time she did this
It hurt him quite deeply
Each time he did, she began to fear the unknown
Her uncertainties grew
Each time she saw his weakness
And his weaknesses grew when he saw her doubt
And the path ahead of them
Began to darken
Seeds of fear, in her heart, began to sprout
Secretly she began to wander
From their path together
Seeking another path safe with certainties
Missing her, but not knowing
Why he felt it
He stumbled and fell to his knees
In this state she found him
And saw all his flaws
At the same time she saw their path ahead
She was the first to notice
The chasm looming
She was the first to be filled with dread
When finally he saw
The cliff in front of them
He mustered all the courage he had
“We can do this!” he said
Hope filling his voice
“Together we can fly right over the bad!”
He pulled her along
Thinking this was the moment
When her promise to crash and burn
Would be fulfilled and yet
Together they would triumph
And through trial and triumph they would learn
But the doubts in her heart
Were already winning
She had found many paths seeming more secure
Yet a small piece of hope
Allowed her to keep going
And together they reached the edge in a blur
Then he jumped with a leap
To reach the other side
And for a moment he thought he was flying
Until he turned his head
And saw her staying behind
And he realized that instead he was dying
Further down he fell
Her image getting smaller
Then she turned and walked away
He felt betrayed because
She had not kept her promise
The one they both made on that beautiful day
So he crashed and burned
Just as he feared
And he let out a gut wrenching groan
High above him she heard it
Echoing through the canyon
And she realized they are still together
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