the prettiest nightmares

The Prettiest
Nightmares.
____________

We were
probably
Independently
Crazy..

Long Before
That
Timeless
Moment
when Love
First assumed
it's Insanity
to Be An
Infinite
Symbol..

Creating
Little
Monsters
Who
Dream
The
Prettiest
of
Nightmares...

(With
Life
and Death
Eternal)

and there
are no
Rulers of
This
Nowhere!

(Angelic,
or Infernal.)
_

Can You
conceive
how Tragedy
and Hope
once Kissed
like Lovers
beneath an
un-named
Moon?

Arms
locked
together
in Deaths
Embrace..

Yet
Believe
While
Everything
Ends Too
Soon..

It is Still
Reborn
with
Some
New
Face!!?

( and
Somewhere
Midnight
has a
Twin
called
NOON.)
_

Oh Nameless
Love!

Would
you Go
Crazy
without
Me in
a Sane
World
where
Love
never
Was?.

and see
All affections

as matters
of Lust..?

Or
rebel
against
The
Voices
in The
Worlds
dead
Head?!

(and Love
Me Just
Because.)
_


Oh My
Love..
We
were
Both
Probably
Crazy
long
before
That Fabled
Moment
when
Love First
considered
it's Death
to Be An
Infinite
Symbol...

(and The
Madness of
Our Love shall
Be Eternal.)

j.s.h.

It Is the Silence.

It Is the Silence.
_____________

It is The
Silence My
Love..
The Silence!!!..
which cuts
me like a Blade..

Because I
contemplate
Cupid's Violence..
(and A Shadow
fill in The Blanks.)
_

It is not Knowing,..
while Hoping.. My
Flame..
that your Love
for me is Everlasting..

as I sit
(lonely)
contemplating
My Shame!

(listening to
Hateful Devil's
Laughing.)
_

It's the Sunrise..
My Love..
The Sunrise!..
Without you Here!..

Which Keeps
Darkness Constant
in My Eyes!

(wondering if
The End is Near.)
__

It's The
Silence My
Love...
The Silence of
My Restless Heart..

An unstately
Phantom waiting
to consume my
Living Art!!!

(keeping
Our Souls
Apart.)

J.Stephen.H.

insomoniac diaries

After 37 hours I've stopped counting,..
and the idea of Sleep has become an
Obscure Dream that is (mostly) A Nightmare
in My Head.

The Clock is getting louder by the
Second. It's ticking like Gun Shots
waging War Against My Heart, to see
which of the two will Cease Fire and
Grow Silent first.

I'm beginning to come to the conclusion
that :The Voices are the Only Thing Keeping
Me Sane. (and of course I'm Crazy for
Believing this.) The only thing honest in
my Life that paints a picture of Reality as
it IS, instead of what it should be.

When I say the voices, it's only appropriate
that I should clarify further and say My Voices.
Because they are sincerely "My Voices."...
reflections of my own voice speaking to me
in a roar that sounds like an audience filled with
versions of myself,..and I play into the audience
like a mere whisper that is constantly drowned
out by the roar of the crowd.

wept by angels who cannot forgive me.

Wept By Angels Who Cannot Forgive Me.
________________________________

It wasn't
Always so
Empty Here..

The Sun
not merely
Some Man's
Memory..

and Lifes'
Poetry did
not Imitate
Dead Tears!

(shed by
Angels who
cannot Forgive
Me.)
_

The Line
was straight
and pointed
the way..

down A
Path called
Yesterday..

serving
as My
Greatest
instructor.

(while teaching
My Soul to
Learn from it's
Mistakes.)
_

The Smiles
didn't Always
seem Broken..

Nor words
of Love,
and Faith
Unspoken..!


And All
Hearts
(beating
like A
Solitary
Drum)
were not
reduced to
Senseless
Motion!

(but played
Music Heard
By Everyone.)
_

Yet Now
it's Always
Empty Here..

with the
Once Bright
Sun a Lost
Man's Memory..

And Life
is an
Ocean full of
Tears!

(wept by
Angels who
Cannot Forgive
Me.)

J.Stephen.H

a prolonged state of madness.

A Prolonged State of Madness
___________________

I've come to the conclusion
that when one is affected by
lust, they are merely experiencing
what equates to Temporary Insanity,...
while Those Infected With
Love, are suffering A Prolonged
State of Madness.

T'is a Unique Madness to be
sure,..but a Madness none the
less. The kind that gets into your
head and festers a while..offering
moments of joy ultimately followed
by eternities of Doubt, and Fear
of Abandonment.

Such Madness can be best described
with the Analogy of a Man who is
sent off into the Desert starving, and
given nothing more than Water with
which to sustain his Hunger.
While he might momentarily feel a
sense of fullness, in the end he remains
starving and Dies Ignorant of his
Mortal Plight.
_

I've tried (time and again) to shed
myself of this Madness, but to no
avail!..For I am the Worst of Lovers.
I am the Lover addicted to his starvation,
who feels most content in the Desert..
wandering aimlessly with a belly full
of Water,...Mind Infected.
(Unaware of my Souls Abandonment.)

J.Stephen.H.

The "Thing-In-Self."

The "Thing-in-Self."
_______________

Be who's
Self?..
My Self,..
Your Self,...
or Any Self?
_

Perhaps we
could just put
names in a hat
and blindly
pick One..?
__

then each will
become the
label they have
drawn..
_

shedding any
semblance of
individuality
till Nothing
remains but a
world of
Categoricals
which poorly
masks The
"Thing in Self."
__

J.S.H.

13 O'clock Blues.

13 o'clock blues. ____________ Time for one last memory, before that piece of lead hits, and the clock strikes thirteen. Pull up a sheet, and sleep awhile. (then drown in the wails of loved ones as they weep.) Did you honestly think trading one hell for another would solve anything? God was never really a doctor, you know. (he just plays one on t.v.) Sorrow to the point of anger would be an understatement,.. but we were always two masters of understating life's worst predicaments weren't we? It's no wonder I hide these feelings from the world. (and pretend to exist in a state of apathy.) but... You have opened the door to a season of change that still seems fresh and painfully new. A Season too Dead with nothing but old memories!..A Season lost, and cold without you. (and at times I forget whether it's you or my Shadow I'm even talking to.) _ I won't waste time with mystical cliches, or say something absurd like: " see you on the otherside" or "I hope you're in a better place." We knew the truth then, and we know it now;... the truth that life is merely a series of graves, from which the dead can never dig themselves out! Some just put on Fresh Faces, and look through (New), Old Eyes into an abyss which spans for All Eternity. (endlessly waiting for the clock to strike thirteen.) J.Stephen.H. _______________ I wrote this in thirteen minutes.. then wept for several hours.. wishing in my heart of dead hearts that it isn't essentially true.. but..that's the irony of life isn't it?I Deciding (as camus said) whether To kill ourselves or have a cup Of coffee and put on our comedic Masks to face another tragic day.