• Published on

    Yes, I guess, I needed to be broken.



    broke my heart
    broke my trust
    broke my mind, apart
    broke my sense of something
    beginning, a start

    broke the words,
    hate now, text
    broke the feeling i had,
    what may come next

    never did i plan
    to love you like i did
    you didn't seem to mind it
    until i vanished from "the moment"
    you live.

    you broke me, yes
    but i guess i needed it, best
    done by someone as blind, selfish
    as you
    no malice, your intent
    just a lack of caring for anyone
    but you
    so i guess that's progress,
    on my road, so much "bent"

    out of shape, experiences, twisted
    found a place in my heart,
    purity found, not resisted

    all those moments, i looked
    felt you, "heaven on earth"
    no regrets, i refuse to play the game
    your "undeserving" mind games,
    self worth

    gifted chameleon
    you broke me, your innocent eyes
    and avoidance "in the moment"
    i believed you, beyond
    your many told lies,
    told to yourself
    and put upon others,
    you can't help yourself
    man of melt into the form of
    who you're around,
    you become the "everyone else"

    now i see it, know it
    and for myself, the truth
    do i walk away broken
    by the mirage of your beautiful

    and own it.

    bowen hart roselli
    26 december 2020
    ringwald love
  • Published on

    Love, Plus Everything


    never knew you
    were supposed to
    hide your heart
    play a part
    fake your art
    steal your cart

    put
    me above you
    lies before truth
    words before soul
    take before toll

    as in, the toll it takes on you
    living a life trying to give
    equals screwed

    by the majority,
    fuck "moral"
    like the choir in the choral
    assembly assembled for the sake
    of the gain
    so sobs the angels, left like road kill
    in pain

    from simply trying to be
    something more human
    than what they see
    all around us, the "vacant with glee"
    just deny what is happening,
    the destruction of intimacy, bleed

    no time for a phone call,
    no time for real care
    no time for anything
    that doesn't involve technology
    and "media, social",
    if not an easy ego boost illusion
    then what does it mean,
    when you don't exist then,
    "who cares?"

    that would be few
    as in fewer, far between
    good luck if you are on your own
    none of that easy swallowed shit
    like a partner or a family

    all the things
    that make the masses,
    oh so happy, fists full of "sappy"
    shovel it down,
    as in shove it on through
    "success!" is the "see me"
    and mine, so posed and perfect
    thus proved

    "all is good and yes, i've made it!"
    no one knows the secrets, outdated
    things like "the struggle"
    or the pain, underneath
    make sure there are no stains
    on those sheets

    that you use to cover all your shit,
    all your bull
    brain cells, devoid
    it's all "sound bites" in skulls

    i never knew
    it was all a game
    and so me, yes "the loser"
    i have no one but myself to blame

    if everyone's doing it
    i should've been screwing it
    but my thing doesn't work that way
    has nothing to do with prison cells
    "straight or gay"

    has more to do with
    the invisible, inside
    an identity, a soul
    attached to a heart
    i could not figure out how to hide

    and so i sank
    instead of swim
    watched prospects of progress
    through my hands, run thin...

    cuz this world,
    gotta be playing games, always
    all the boys i like
    prefer psycho bitches
    parading down their hallways

    so then me, "just too easy"
    "too nice, too there",
    gentle winds, blow my "breezy"
    so i bent my backwards to "sleazy"
    and found a devouring darkness
    that would make many real queasy

    so "fuck it", i tried
    had to leave that behind
    turns out, just never good enough
    to be the one to light the heaven
    inside another's loving, adoring eyes

    "ok, I'll accept it",
    cuz what else can you do
    chalk up my life to a waste of dreams
    and energy, misguided truth

    amongst the madness, the sadness
    of all the things
    i thought, felt that mattered,

    turns out i was wrong.

    it was all the things
    i never wanted to believe,
    therefore never learned,
    until too late, "the awake"
    days of despair, lonely, long

    now my undoing,
    but "death by a thousand cuts"
    at least, in the end

    makes you strong.

    and i know, when i walk alone
    in silence, no more words
    past all the lovers, entwined
    arm in arm

    in motion, my emotions
    and thoughts, "somewhere else"

    that somewhere, not here
    is exactly the place
    I've always known, i belong

    (and as such, no surprise
    my lack of success, just an utter
    failure at love, plus everything here)



    bowen hart roselli
    26 december 2020
    ringwald love
  • Published on

    broken (successful in succumbing)

     

    broke me.

    the hope,
    the heart,
    the "not again", end,
    fall apart.

    the forced "new start",
    the "never saw it coming",
    you, your lightning rod,
    then watching you dart

    away.
    outta here, vanished
    plenty, your promises
    meant nothing,
    mere words, wasted,
    you, manic?

    who knows, who cares
    an expert, am i
    at the "life isn't fair"
    bullshit parade
    of spectacle and silence
    so what if my pleasure
    is sex bordering on violence

    separate
    the love from the lust
    the truth from the trust
    the tender from the thrust
    the " it matters" from "the must"

    can you, or someone, please explain
    the reason we put ourselves
    through so much pain
    the torment of trying, so hard, in vain
    when it all seems to end,
    in the same place, "love drained"

    devoid of consistency,
    anything, always
    too many hearts, lost,
    they linger in the hallways

    the hotel of my heart,
    get them out, get them gone
    "thoughts", for each other
    i thought they mattered,
    i was wrong...

    but you,
    the one I'd fight forever
    to keep
    don't ask me why,
    you, the come back,
    in complete

    doesn't make sense,
    i guess that's the point
    just call me the jukebox,
    and we'll call you "the joint"

    the one that houses the music,
    the madness,
    the one that encapsulates
    emotions that encompass
    all spectrum's, realms
    from deep joy, despair, sadness

    never planned, prepared,
    it was you
    but all i did, i felt it, the truth
    and in return, you "black eyed"
    and bruised
    made everything all about
    the gaping wound that is you

    took reciprocation,
    made it a deviation
    took a real team,
    and destroyed it,
    you, "the runaway", relation

    to anyone and anything
    that sees right through, to your soul
    "your sting"
    a gifted chameleon,
    underneath, fragile, weak
    so of course, determined
    to destroy what you seek

    broken, again
    and let me repeat
    the holes, heart plenty
    as i try to salvage, what soul left,
    light leaks

    so sick, tired, exhausted
    by the genuine love,
    like a passerby, accosted
    "beat the shit out of"
    for seeing, believing in "beautiful"

    but fuck me, the one
    like a servant, enslaved, ever dutiful

    to "the cause", of care, concern
    build a bonfire, watch it burn
    watch it all become, all about you
    disembowel the divine, in the connect
    you did too

    to me, formed a "we"
    but i guess, "no big deal"
    who knew, it so easy
    to find, flower, conquer
    another heart, someone true
    someone real

    i guess it's me,
    who doesn't "the score"
    once a whore, twice "a bore"
    alive in things
    like deep affection and "adore"

    shit, that here,
    doesn't matter much, anymore

    broken here,
    responsible,
    scrape myself off the floor

    and get back up, get back out
    smile, all the bigger
    learn "the jig", up, from the jigger

    be like you,
    selfish to the core
    therefore successful in succumbing
    to eviscerating, evaporating
    all the hurt, hope, happenings,
    hearts, came before

    for the quest of "me",
    now ready, and suppressed
    for success

    if i can manage to put myself
    back together,
    with you, somehow etched,
    stuck inside me

    but pretending it not,
    "last chance" to get it right,
    like everyone else

    we'll see.


    bowen hart roselli
    29 december 2020
    ringwald love 
  • Published on

    Utter Devastation (an introduction to...)

     hi,
    my name is utter devastation (think emotional/psychological)
    and I'm here to tell you a little bit about myself. I am known to a very
    special, select group of souls for whom my presence has made itself
    a continual reminder throughout their lives. Yes, every single man, woman in this life sees me,
    feels me visit them at least once or twice
    (death of a pet, loss of a parent, a child, spouse, close friend, that kind of thing),
    but for this special clan i am speaking of, i find them very young
    (and we know how this world loves the young),
    cut a hole deep inside them (such unspeakably ugly ways, you don't want all the lurid details of how i do it..trust me)
    and thereby make, implant my mark, "my seed", so as to come back and strike upon them again,
    in ways they often are too blinded, confused by me to see.....coming.

    Poor souls, i know, I'm a dastardly, devious devil, but some tribe has got to balance
    the scales for the more "normal" lives of so many people who seem get pretty much whatever
    and whom they want with relative ease. You see, for these folk I'm speaking of, all the regular rules don't apply.
    No matter how hard they try, work hard, pray harder, "be good soldiers",
    it doesn't erase the mark, "the etch" placed inside them, I've made.

    But it can't be all "doom and gloom", every hell has got to have a little heaven,
    so i am known to shine some individualistic rays of light upon them,
    give them some hopeful beauty now and again, otherwise they'd simply kill themselves
    and that would be the end of it, end of me, no fun.
    (the strong ones, they stay, but so sad, the ones that "opt out early", "off themselves",
    no matter what little good i give, send their way, every now and again)

    Utter devastation, i live to break these souls. Somehow they keep getting up though,
    these extra special ones, at war with me, my cruel, bloodthirsty game.
    That's why i chose them, although they'll never exactly figure out the "why them"...
    If they did, maybe they'd be able to outwit, outrun, be done, me.
    I mess up their minds so thoroughly, masterfully, that somewhere deep down,
    they don't believe they can and live in fear that I'm always waiting, lingering, just....around...the...corner.
    Strike! Surprise! Gotcha, another "not again' time.

    I am utter emotional/psychological devastation and i live to see the deep, wrenching pain in their eyes,
    hold them at night, as they sob, as they writhe.

    How do i achieve this, beyond the more obvious of my ungodly acts?
    (rape, molestation, beatings, muggings, murder, adultery, betrayal by a deeply trusted family member,
    best friend, loved one, kidnapping of a child, horrible disease inflicted on the young,
    car crash death, plane crash death, death during childbirth, etc...)

    Well, It's very simple.
    95% of the time, something hopeful, fruitful, positive comes along and i snatch it from them like a thief in broad daylight.

    See, I'm nicer than I'm given credit for, I left a 5% offering of light, success, things working out,
    evolving, coming to fruition, hope.

    My "utterly devastated sensitives", so needy, wanting, selfish, i tell ya...
    But back to me, my wily, wounding, ever damaging ways...

    That job you worked so hard at?
    Eh, i make em hate you and show you the door, smiling, blaming you for everything, of course.

    That new romantic interest, so hard to connect, so hard to find?
    I make em disappear, forget you for whatever reason i want, or can find.

    That group of friends you thought you belonged to, made?
    I make em gang up on, talk shit about you and quicker than you can say "hey",
    I've sealed your fate and your bed, alone, once again, is made.

    Those family members you thought had your back?
    They just saw it as something to repeatedly break, crush, stab.

    That person you bonded with, trusted with all your heart, best of your soul?

    Surprise!, they really didn't pay you much mind, turns out all their kindness was a ploy for gain,
    or worse, just a momentary "didn't mean much of anything to them" product of your fucked up,
    delusionally fragile, ever still so hopeful mind.

    Because you are just "that kind".
    My favorite kind.
    Sensitive. Creative. Thinking. Deep Feeling. Seeing. Sensing. Knowing.
    And the all time worst, my favorite,
    "Heart on sleeve" showing.

    So therefore.
    Scapegoated. Blamed.
    Misunderstood. Maimed.
    In and of me, utter devastation, both
    forever changed, altered repeatedly and yet..
    simultaneously unchanged.

    i have many intricate and numerous ways, I am utter devastation after all,
    and those that know me, once too often throughout their lives, they know, yes, to fear me,
    that I'm not some shallow attention seeking device. I cut deep. I scar the brain even deeper.
    "For life", and if i had my way, far beyond that as well, (think that place that i come from, hell)
    This is not some playtime game, nor for the weak, just the same.

    The clan I've created, they know and live with me by name.
    I guess you could say I'm unshakable, unforgettable that way....

    and ultimately, my victory
    is to make them so afraid of hope,
    of hoping for anything sweet,
    innocent, rewarding and lasting,
    that they will simply live to outlive
    me, and the weight of my pain

    but damn, they are strong, i'll give 'em that, the ones that make it through, regardless of all i make
    so utterly devastating for them, "so wrong".

    maybe, when they least expect it, i'll give them a break and allow something good to happen, to last,
    the ones that know the meaning of the fight, war waged long...
    (remember, that 5% chance exists for them as long as they do)

    So live and love on, in spite of, and for me, the one's, "my children", the haunting of me,
    they know and feel all too well,
    and belong.



    bowen hart roselli
    12 december 2020
    ringwald love


  • Published on

    panic attack. (off the trail, off the track)

     panic attack.
    (off the trail, off the track)


    all the little particles of matter,
    what do exactly, here, they form?
    something quite unusually unusual,
    someone here beyond the realms
    of "the norm"

    shadows of a stranger, forming
    steps towards the winds, fate, storming
    brewing, building, bursting through
    all it was, i thought i knew

    sight askew, as "slightly off"
    different stations, different troughs
    that we feed and drink, ordained
    some here laughing, some in pain

    different avenues, different streets
    different thread counts, stated,
    our sheets

    that we hop in, "jump in the sack"
    some claw pillows, preyed,
    panic attacks

    while some, their beds made
    latest lover, while love, it fades
    it's a bitch, a burden, a becoming
    quite bruising
    to wake up, aged,
    never "making the grade"

    unless "f" is for fabulous,
    "d", is divine
    "c" is for caring,
    "b", the heart bleed, hope, "be mine"
    and "a", is the last,
    in this reverse, universe
    "a" is for the apathy, averse
    to recognizing, in deep empathy,
    a curse...

    to "get too close"
    to the fire, the flame
    an enmeshment, entwinement
    for far too many, this state unknown
    or acted, as if on a stage, all a game

    boundaries of belief,
    crossed over into twilight
    nuance of noir, filmed, so framed
    monochrome, black and white

    "the zone", it convenes,
    "is it you or is it me?"
    and so he walks, ever onward, alone
    unable to stop thinking, feeling
    as the words, they flood,
    then fade, to remind him
    the search, it seems,
    is his only way, wayward

    forward, vision of home.

    (harry reems)....


    bowen hart roselli
    7 december 2020
    ringwald love
  • Published on

    the Kindest Man i felt i knew

     the kindest man i felt i knew

    ...and if all i have is this now,
    then it's the one thing
    that i never knew...

    i may never know
    who you truly are
    but could you spare me a moment
    of thought, even feeling
    to possibly wonder
    if you know, under your skin, who i am,

    or so the mystery proves...

    elusive...distant, removed.

    (but yes, I'll die trying, fractured light, the sun soaked,
    walking to the end of the earth, proved..
    just as i tried, and died again
    wholeheartedly, with, and amongst,
    the unspoken of you)

    the kindest man, i felt so deeply,
    i knew.


    bowen hart roselli
    6 december 2020
    ringwald love