We all have our vises; those things we can't go without in our lives, even though it's obvious to everyone we'd be better off without them. Some times it's a person, or a relationship. Sometimes it's a substance, like a food or alcohol. For me it's misery. Depression inspires me. Sadness moves me. Pain motivates me. Success is boring. Comfort is boring. It's an illusion.

The Angel in My Mind

I looked, and I found an angel in my life.
She spoke with a sound that calmed my aching mind.
And Oh, how she stole my heart, and cut my burdens loose.
She sewed up the bleeding shards of what was left by you.

I know she is real, the angel in my mind.

I looked, and I found an angel for my wife.
She walked down the isle- a wedding gown all white.
And Oh, how it broke my heart, to see her standing there.
For I did not play the part. My finger remains bare.

I know she is real, the angel in my mind.
I know she is real, the angel in my mind.

Life rarely takes the turns we expect, and seldom the ones we deserve, but in each moment passing exists all possibilities. I've said goodbye to everything I've ever loved the past, many of which I've yet to see again. I know the inevitability of all that I love now being lost to me as well. I've seen faces lost to me from the moment I could first recall them. Nothing is constant. We take for granted the people in our lives, the loves we have known. We take our moments as if we have earned them, as if we have valid claim, but nothing is ours. Nothing is mine, and I shall watch it pass. I do not take for granted the moments that I have, but do the moments I have lost, and those yet to be. These are all I lay claim to; abandoned by time, forgotten by memory, and faded by age. I would cling to an image in my mind sooner that one displayed before me. The image before me will always change. It will never be mine. You will never be mine. I will never be yours. My body, my mind will always decay. They will always be failing, always inadequate, always dying. But I will go on in the trees, and in the fishes. I will be the breeze that chills young lovers of days not yet. I will be the burden of storm upon the earth, and the calm of night. I will be in the wars of future men, and in the disease of pestilence. I will be in the dew, and in the prism cast by the morning sun. All these things are my destiny, my future. I will die, and in that death I will be as eternal as the earth, for I will be a part of her; and all the forces of man could not wipe me from her face. Some will say move. Some will say thrive. Some say live. They do not know the meaning. You may live how you desire, but I will live as the stars, burning for eternity and breading new life when I pass; by this a star will never die. It does not turn to ash or decay like a man. It does not fear the war, or threat of any other being. It knows no disease or illness. It only knows its course; it only desires its purpose, to burn.