To Be Consumed…

Some people know me as the one who says sorry too much
Apologizing for the sake of apologizing, because I’m sorry
but I can’t be the person you want me to be
I can’t be the one that follows you around and makes you feel safe
because I don’t always feel safe.

That’s not to say that I don’t want you to feel safe around me
Because I do.

But I can’t give someone something that I don’t myself have
I can’t securely give you security while I’m insecure
in the thought that I have what I need, that I’m living how I want, how I need.

I have needs too, and I’ve been frowned on and looked down on
and stepped on by those who wanted to get ahead of me
but I don’t hate them. I respect them.

Because they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want in life
even if that means losing friends.
And maybe that’s because they have.
Maybe it’s because they’ve been hurt in the past and they,
they don’t let anyone in anymore because they’re afraid.

Afraid of being hurt again so they reach.
They reach for the only thing they have left to reach for.
And they can’t afford to stop to let someone in while on the way there.
or maybe, maybe they just won’t let anything hold them down.

but there’s a fatal flaw.
Whether you’ve been hurt in the past, or if you don’t want anyone to hold you down.
You’re still acting out of fear.

Fear of letting someone in.
Fear of being hurt again.
Fear of someone holding you down.

But trust me…I’ve seen these things before. Been on the outside looking in.

Been part of the audience at the circus of freaks.
But I’ve also been on stage.
I’ve been the main attraction.

The lion tamer, the bearded lady, the strong man.
The don’t hold a candle to me.

Because I’ve been consumed by fears.
I’ve watched it devour everything…
everyone…
I’ve ever loved.

Then I watched it’s gaping jaws descend on me
And I’ve watched as my life was consumed by it.

The fear.

And I won’t let it consume anymore.

©2015 Alexander J Hicks

Play the Fool

Always shall I play the fool
You’ll see the surface, never through
My face hidden beneath the mask
That one day I hope to remove at last
And forever shall I hide myself.

To face the world with knuckles raised
Instead of hiding here  in the haze
That the winds of change had carried strong
Into this place that I don’t belong
A place where the liars cannot follow.

I want to trust, to remove this guise
To see the love in another’s eyes
But the scars from the blades
That were hidden with praise
Have shielded my sight from the truth.

The world is full of liars and thieves
Who take what they want and do as they please
But I will won’t succumb to their worthless ruse
Because behind this lie I’ve nothing to lose
And they can’t see through my mask.

So forever I shall play the fool
You see the surface, never through
Behind this mask I hide my face
Because in life, I’ve lost my place.
And forever I shall hide myself.

©2015 Alexander Hicks

Liar

I look around and what falls within my sight is different
It’s darker here, not black, but darker.
There is still sun here
It’s just buried within dark ominous clouds

I’m not afraid of the dark though
I’ve been in the dark before
But this is different.

Because this time no one is there to help me out of it.
There’s no one reaching for my hand to pull me free
No one to help me up if I should fall.
I’m alone here – truly alone.

In some ways I expected it.
To be betrayed by the ones I trusted
Because it’s happened so many times in the past.
But it hurts more this time.
The knife went deeper.

Do you remember what you said to me?
“You walk this path alone
but your friends are still there with you.
If you turn around we won’t be gone”

But when I turned around…
You were gone.
All of you…are gone.

You lied to me. You lied.

To be fair…I lied as well.
Because I told you that I trusted you
But how could I?
When all my life all I’ve heard is lies?
Lies and excuses.
Why should you be any different?

You’re a liar. Just like the rest of them.

But it’s okay…
So am I.

Alone, There He Sits

This poem is another rather dark piece and is on the topic suicide. Suicide is something very sensitive to me as my father committed suicide in November of 2014. Again, it is not how I feel about myself. If you or someone you love is having thoughts of suicide please please call the suicide prevention hotline.

Canada and the USA: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

A full list of suicide prevention hotlines around the world is available HERE.

A man sits alone
in the place he calls home
and he sits in his chair and he weeps

A tear in his seams
Has wounded his dreams
And upon him, slowly, death creeps

He’s not broken yet
But he can’t forget
How he pushed all of his loved ones away

And now he can tell
That in this living hell
That he’d wishes he’d just let them stay

Now see the blood drip
From his fingertips
As it pools at his feet on the floor.

He’s fought for so long
His defences are gone
And he can’t fight alone anymore

And the pieces he’s lost
That his choices have cost
Have torn his conscious to shreds

His own mind betrayed
Wants not to be saved
So now – there he sits – until dead.

©2015 Alexander Hicks

A Shard of Himself

This poem is a rather dark piece and is on the topic suicide. Suicide is something very sensitive to me as my father committed suicide in November of 2014. Although I wrote this poem with feeling, it is not how I feel about myself. If you or someone you love is having thoughts of suicide please please call the suicide prevention hotline.

Canada and the USA: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

A full list of suicide prevention hotlines around the world is available HERE.

He sits all alone in his room
Picking up what pieces he can
He can’t shake this feeling of doom
as he holds what is left in his hand

The shards have all fallen from him
Like glass from a fell picture frame
The pieces all fall from within
And no one remembers his name

No one remembers the tears
That glistened in his soft eyes
All he can see is the pain and the fear
And all those who told him the lies

He knows that he should regret
Hurting the ones who say that they care
Now waiting for deaths soft caress
Only now he admits that he’s scared

He thinks that he won’t be missed
No more chances, he can’t ask for help
Blood pours when he opens his wrist
With a jagged, sharp shard of himself.

©2015 Alexander Hicks

The Hardest Part

 
Some days waking up
Is the hardest thing I do
I’ve spend days now wide awake
Thinking of only you
 
Thinking of where I went wrong
Of how I screwed things up
Thinking on how much
It hurt just giving up.
 
And I wish that I could stay asleep
Because in dreams we’re still together
But it’s always interrupted
Because I know you’re gone forever
 
And I wish I could have fixed things
And that you had given me a chance
To repair the trust that I betrayed
To dance that twisted dance.
 
I know that one day I’ll be fine
That I’ll move on and live my life
But for now all I feel is misery
Amidst the pain, the hurt, and strife.
 
This broken hearted memory
Will haunt me for the time
Of what we had and what we lost
But someday I’ll be fine.
 
And that’s the hardest part.
 
©2013 Alex Hicks

SILHOUETTE

She sits alone in silence
In the darkness of her mind
Like watching waterfalls
Her thoughts leave her behind
Open books lay scattered
Under piles of torn up paper
Each page a fractured memory
The shadow that was her life
That tortured her each day
Ending over and over again

©2013 Alex Hicks

Dark Sleep (Part 2)

Part 2 guys and gals, this contains blood and death. You’ve been warned.
 

 
So last night you made a plan
That if you cannot have her hand
None will have her in their bed
None can have that which is dead
 
So you drive to her nightly corner
Wondering if anyone will mourn her
She gets in with a polite smile
Looks at you “it’s been a while”
 
You nod at her and smile back
eleven pm, right on track
Back to your place and through the door
Soon enough you’ll love her no more
 
She strips her clothes and on the bed
On your pillow she rests her head
You get in and lie with her
You know now this is for sure
 
You pretend to sleep and she gets up
In the bathroom grabs a cup
In the mirror there you stand
Right behind her, knife in hand
 
She tries to scream but you’re too fast
and her next breath will be her last
The knife sinks in and tears are shed
She doesn’t know why you want her dead
 
You lean in and whisper clear
I just wanted you my dear
You told me there was never a chance
You made up your mind without a glance
 
Her body drops and in something drops
A small and square red velvet box
You pick it up and look inside
And suddenly it’s you who’se died
 
Inside the box there sat a ring
A simple small engagement ring
And folded small a little note
And within it she had wrote:
 
“I’m giving this small ring to you
and here’s what I want you to do:
take me to dinner, someplace fine
And order us a bottle of wine;
 
Put the ring there in my glass
and when I drink, on one knee ask
If I will be thy wedded wife
From now until the end of life.
 
I’ll say yes, and then for sure
I will be a whore no more
I will be your beautiful bride
And forever we’ll be filled with pride.”
 
You take the knife, eyes filled with tears
You’ve realized your biggest fear
It’s not being alone as it were
It’s living your life without her
 
Your steady the knife at your own heart
And look at her as all goes dark
And plunge the knife into your chest
And finally you both may rest
 
A story told through simple rhyme
Cannot condone a passion crime
So the old phrase remains strong and tall
Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
 
©2013 Alex Hicks

Dark Sleep (Part 1)

This one’s a two part poem ladies and gents. Part 2 will be up later, and it goes to some really dark places.
 

 
Tell her stories in the night
Until the dawns morning light
Of heroes saving the day
Maybe then she’ll stay
 
But it’s realy not likely
That she’ll want to love you nightly
I know it may sound funny
But she only wants your money
 
She dances on the street curb
Just outside the suburb
In the morning she leaves
Another man for her to please
 
She’s not but corner whore
And yet still you want her more
She begs you and calls you sir
Each night that you’re here with her
 
She sells her body for sex
and you think that you know best
By wanting her to love you
with everything that you do
 
But you know that there’s no chance
She only knows one dance
She’s not the cheating kind
because she will not be tied
 
A common downtown street whore
And you you still want more
To share more than just your bed
You wish for you to be wed
 
She’s made that clear a hundred-fold
You can’t ask again, you’ve been told
And now you know that there’s no chance
That she will ever dance that dance
 
©Alex Hicks 2013

I’ve Forgotten

 
I’ve been single for a while now, and I think I’ve forgotten a few things.
 
I forgotten what it feels like to wake up beside a person you care deeply about and look into her eyes thinking that this is the one.
 
I’ve forgotten about arguing with her over petty differences like leaving the toilet seat up and what we do with empty cartons of milk or whose turn it is to do the dishes at the end of the day.
 
I’ve forgotten how it feels to sit pretending to watch TV while actually watching her cook, or clean, or read a book while wondering how one person could be so both adorable and beautiful at the same time.
 
I’ve forgotton how it feels trying to focus on making supper but being unable to because I know that her eyes are following me from the living room teeming with desire, want, love, lust.
 
I’ve forgotten how it feels to go out to dinner with her and just sit staring into eachothers eyes hoping that this feeling would never end, convinced that it wouldn’t knowing that at the end of the night the last thing we would see is eachother.
 
I’ve forgotten what it feels like knowing that the last thing we see at night and the first thing we see every morning is each others smiling face overwhelmingly happy with the relationship we have, with the life we share, with the world we’ve created, with the love that we’ve built.
 
I’ve forgotten what love feels like.
 
But I think…
 
I think that were I to find it again, I would know it right away.
 
©2013 Alex Hicks