Within The Confines of a Beautiful Mind

This blog will follow a jaded prospective author's not so riveting journey (or descent) into the dark recesses of abstract thought. Follow along as our brave hero does daring do, and attempts to battle mediocrity, armed with nothing but astute observation and a penchant for self expression.

saints & sluts.

good morals don’t rub off; they rub off.

I don’t get
why they call it
“falling in love”
with the butterflies in your stomach
the light headed breathlessness
and that soaring feeling like you’re painting an incomplete sky;
that you’re doing something you thought impossible;
that nothing else matters
it should be “flying in love”
not falling
falling is what happens after it’s gone.

~C.B.M

"I read somewhere that, and I’m paraphrasing here, the problem with america is that the poor don’t believe that they’re poor, they believe that they are in fact temporarily embarrased millionaires. True. Very true. I think we love the same way too. We believe in this type of comic book love story where we will have our ups and downs, battle against the odds, and vanquish the overly simplistic bad guy all to win the heart of the undoubtedly average woman we put up on a pedastal for the world; ourselves, to admire. Life doesn’t get wrapped up into little bows. Love doesn’t work like that. Love just plain doesn’t work based on grandiose expectations and broad theatrical revelations. Sad to say but we are not the heroes of our story; we aren’t the villain either; we just are."

— C.B.M

"As a young man I was warned about heart break, and I finally get it; love. They call it heartbreak because after your first love has come and gone…it never quite feels the same."

— C.B.M

"That’s the problem with giving your heart to someone else they never give it back to you in good condition; in their hands, when it breaks, and it always does, the pieces always seem to slip through their fingers. It all happens so non-nonchalantly, like everything else matters more, but it doesn’t, nothing matters more than those pieces of you on the floor that you are left to pick up by yourself."

— C.B.M

"I refuse to believe in love at first sight. Just the very inkling that it’s possible to give oneself so wholly in a moment seems like a fairy tale. Love is a slow burn; its less the fire and more like the embers; the long roasting kindle upon which the flames of life are perched. Though I wish it were different, I do, I wish love could stampede in and out of life in a flurry of feel goods and forget me nots, but it doesn’t, it eats you from the inside out and it doesn’t stop until you’re hollow. That’s why I refuse to believe in love at first sight, because if falling in love were that easy..we’d all be empty; the world and our existence would be that much scarier."

— C.B.M

"Have you ever been kissed? No I don’t mean like that. I mean like when your lips touch the world slips away, mountains crumble, empires fall, time ceases to exist. Its just you and that other person…hanging on while the cosmos itself falls apart in some kind of beautiful tragedy. No? Me neither."

— C.B.M

"The worst thing about having a big heart is that when it breaks there are so many more pieces to pick up."

— C.B.M

behold the prices we pay

to steal a piece of the moon

as we intently watch the dandelions lay

just to be ripped up to soon

what is it like to be weeded out

told you take too much room

why aren’t roses counted weeds?

they are the ones with the thorns

though there are fates worst than death

the rose knows all to well

what it’s like to be raised into beauty

a sorry existence culminated by

being chopped and pruned just to sell

behold the price of beauty

we all pay it well

but what of love

there is a price is there not?

surely you give and give

sacrifice all that you’ve got?

some would say you give your self

or what you used to be

a portion is true

if you wish to believe

the true price is your sanity

and your intentions to breathe

for a breath is a rare occurance

in the face of true love

and rationale is a luxury

you lose all traces of

behold the price of love

in each of my moments

with tenderness

and apathy due

I venture a day dream

of futures with you

I smile sky wide and my heart still louder sings

my shoulders relax as my mind slowly sways

even though

all of my dreams of you end the same way

with heartbreak and loss

I mused as I laughed

I guess the true price of love

is the pain of the cost

~C.B.M

Love, sir, If I may be so bold as to address you directly

I find it harder and harder to embrace
the inevitable eventuality of you love
when I’m constantly reminded of how many
pieces my heart breaks into
when you leave
every time I close my eyes
I’m reminded of the number of flips
of the hour glass that’s needed
to pick each miserable piece up
the time it takes to count them
sort them
reconstruct my self
from the time curdled emotional refuse
while fighting off the twisted machinations
of a kleptomaniac past
again
I do all that
only to later realize
that there’s always piece missing
always another piece
every time
its like I forget that part
its like I forget why I have to change
its like I forget that
you always seem to take a piece of my heart
of me
with you when you leave

~C.B.M