My Sweet Milay

My beginning has finally arrived
I've been awakened by a siren, singing her love for me
The beginning of my wonderfully, perfect, life has finally opened itself unto me
I've found this lovely lady, her name is Milay
She looks me in the eyes when I'm speaking my mind
She replies with words of accuracy and meaning, and they all make sense to me
I ask her what she wants to do, and she answers with the same question
I tell her stories, she laughs or gasps whenever needed
I tell her jokes and she laughs whole-heartedly, without a single clue of transparency
She looks me in the eyes
We smile to each other between constantly agreeable conversations
My issues with reality, with living, and life; she understands them completely
I think I love this person, I think this person loves me
My angel, Milay
She's unquestionably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, in my mind and through my eyes

To her I am a wretch
I am a sad and riddled boy who could not love such a woman
She is my goddess and she's enthroned on a golden altar that she's built herself
Not a slave, servant, or holy disciple will follow her into darkness
No fool more foolish than I
I've trusted this con artist with my wallet and watch
To her, I am pitiful
I am hopeful and wishing
She knows she is too good, she knows she deserves better
She is beautiful, open, and interesting
But she's a god damned harlot
She is the victim of this viciously scattered mess of emotions
She tells me that she's never loved me, that I'm not her type
I'm angered, but pleased
A delusional duality of emotions enslave my painful expressions
I am angered at the thought of someone less than I, being the one she wants
I am pleased by the doom that will spawn itself unto her, by her own accord
I am angered that she couldn't see what I had to offer
I am pleased that I knew before it was way too late
I am angered that she lives with such delusions of grandeur
I am pleased, that my own delusions, are what keep me safe from the invisible, flying, demons of others
She will drown in despair
There will be no hope for her
Not a single wave of strength or beauty will grace her wrinkled face after she's lived her long and miserable chain of days that ties itself together with cigarettes that shrivel her lungs into tiny prunes of muscles.
I will be in the grace of God while she burns beneath me in the righteous flame
I will stand, indignant, on the cliff side, watching the sea of the tormented sway with the volcanic winds of plague
My dear, sweet, Milay
You're a thousand times more appealing to my eye, now that you're where you belong.
Burn, my sweet angel. Take residence in the furnace that warms you to the core, through all your sickly skin.

I Felt Like Rhyming

Our sky stands divided, such as the waters of our ocean, and the rock we've shaped
To accommodate, our common ways of living
Therein lies the windows to our minds, sometimes shut and locked
In darkness they disguise
Rousing selves as lightless gaps, no air can even breathe
It's hard to stay on solid ground, when holes reside beneath
Windows of realities, bend and twist inside
All different than each others, we've closed our fragile eyes
Open up your windows, let your insides breathe
Because the box that closes tightly is the box that no one sees
There are no rules to life and death, so live the way you please

Who Am I? (inspired by my sister's blog)

I'm Ryan Evan Shaw Ferguson. I've got big dreams, and I'm the only person who can possibly hold myself back. I'm indecisive from the fear of failure, or further indecision. I want to do the right thing before I do the wrong thing, but I remind myself that you've got to make the wrong decisions before knowing what the right ones are.

I'm very emotional, but I hide my sentiment behind reserved expressions and crossed arms. I'm over-dramatic, as in, I see my life as movies; one thing going well is an inspirational box office hit, and my miseries are black and white indie films.

Growing up, I've only ever wanted the attention and affection that my parents shared so sparingly. I'm understanding; they did the best they could. I never went hungry. I only wish to be the kind of father that's got all his ducks in a row, one that can spend the time doing things with his kids. I want to wake my son at 10am, long after the school bus has gone, and take him to the movies and his favorite restaurant; I want him to know that there is always time to enjoy life. I want to tell my precious daughter that she's beautiful, every single day.

I want my wife to know that she's all I've ever prayed for, and that I'd do anything to make her smile. I'll make fun of myself when she's feeling insecure, I'll declare my undying love for her in the most crowded room I can find, and I'll tell her everything about myself so she can always cut me down to size when I've gotten a little cocky.

I love music that speaks to me, books that live out my fantasies, and movies that make me laugh myself to tears. I love the cliche' moments when friends and family unite and have a good time, laughing and sharing love for each other, without shame and without judgment. I cry during weddings, even if the marriages they signify are short-lived; the hopeful hearts uniting as one, in a childish attempt at eternal happiness.

I want to spend my life, making people feel. I want to make them laugh, or cry, or realize, that there are no limits. I want to teach people that anyone who quits before they start, will forever be unhappy. I want the mass to feel as one. I want to tell children that its okay to feel, its okay to cry in public, its okay to let each other know how we feel. Those feelings are the only things we truly have in common, so we've got to share them with each other.

I hope that I'll know when I'm dying, so I can say goodbye to everyone I know, tell them I love them, and forgive the people who have hurt me; I also want to forgive myself for the mistakes I've made, and make my peace with God.