Honest to

I am driving
with my best friend
to the top of a mountain,
the snow and the road
become a blurred vignette portrait.
I catch myself, teary eyed,
with the warmth of the dashboard under my hands,
as I nod my head to music,
to some hateful man,
screaming about monsters
the monster he has become.
Reoccurring daydreams,
they don't end with me
riding off into the sunset
quite like they used too.
In my daze, I see myself,
begging someone to shoot me.
Anyone to tear me apart,
because I, more than them,
want to know what I'm made up of.
If all this bitterness has housed within the depths of me,
or if it's temporarily house sitting,
until the best of me has been returned

to stay
I beg my true self

("please stay")

I see candid photos of me then,
and I loathe the woman I was.
Happiness radiating from the core of my usefulness,
my desire to live another day,
the cure of my own personal cancer,
still, remains a mystery,
It consumes me,
developing, and spreading within the most mortal parts of me.
Hanging over my head like a dreary cloud,
reigning upon me,
stealing my thunder,
making me sleep,
until I lose track of the moments I know,
from the moments I think.
This trip to the mountain top,
It was proof to me,
that no matter what beauty has been laid at my feet,
or has fallen from the sky,
decorating the ground,
like a cake I'd surely consume,
(& eat my fill)
I will always remain true to my heart,
no matter how miserable and moldy it's become.
I answer to her first,
beating so tribally within the containment of me,
my ribs a cage,
my heart a bird.
Wings beyond clipped-

now, entirely removed.

I allow myself a moment of honesty
a moment to speak,

("I don't trust anyone.")

I heard once
the truth rattles cages of liars, of burdened souls,
and in this moment of honesty,
the mountain fell,
and left me alive.
So I stood,
tears, hardening to my stale cheek.
I don't need anything to capture this,
(no cameras please.)

While I shed the masks of insanity,
I remember first,
who's face I met in this snowy bank,
My own.

It's been a while,
but I'm trying.
buried 10,000 feet below a bed spread of snow,
it's going to be a long journey home.

I just need honesty,
honestly.