Derek Armstrong

Anonymous asked: Yours is true beauty. You have every right to be vain. Not everyone's face is a proportionate reflection of their soul. Too many are admired for what is seen only by the viewer's eyes. I have been blessed with the opportunity to get to know the whole Derek Armstrong. I wish others could see beyond the surface. Then perhaps, you would be truly appreciated.

What an incredibly wonderful thing to say. I can only aspire to reach the level of beauty that you believe me to obtain. I won’t let you down! <3

“Every great man nowadays has his disciples, and it is always Judas who writes the biography.”

-

The greatest story ever told is not about a venom-

nous apple or a royal secret shrouded in my-

stery. It does not depict a balcony or a tortoise or a hare or all

any of the witches. These were all written in vain.

It has nothing to do with a magic tree, or a snake’s

cunning plot. In the end, the only words that truly matter are

-

those of love. Love is why I stowed away on a pirate ship (arrr)

and sailed deep into the fog. It is why I sucked the venom

right out of you like an infection and allowed you, with teeth like snakes,

to tell me that the very tip-top one-hundred percent my-

self was not good enough, and believed it. Why I poured out my vein

s onto your stupid cherry wood floor, gave you everything, and all.

-

I fell asleep in alleyways and woke up underneath all

of the sweaty and unappealing monsters that were

uncontrollably vying for my meat like hounds. Van-

ity vanishing, diminishing, draining out like venom 

from a crushed spider. Yes, crushed, but still full of mi-

ght. Hurt and ruined but eager and filled with a spite like snakes.

-

I learned somewhere amid the long boat ride back that snakes

don’t die with force or reason, sometimes they require all

the will you have and then some, I know mine are still leeching my

blood and probably always will be. These words are

each just another inch I can cut off his end, small drops of venom

I can remove, slow, sure, steadily from my vein-

-

s. And, miraculously, true love found me. I was sailing in vain,

it was always where I never saw it, not underneath rocks that hid snakes.

And maybe it took all of this, all of the journey and the heartache and the venom.

Perhaps the battle did not have to be lost or won, but all

I needed to do was fight, and keep fighting. There are

not, nor will there ever be, a day when I do not thank God for this enemy. 

-

my

veins

are

snakes;

all

venom.

-

There isn’t anything else that my 

prose hasn’t already said, no remaining metaphors for snakes

or pirate ships. And I suppose it might be vain

to continue with this envoi when all

I have inside me has ar-

‘ready been spilled. But that’s the only way to beat the venom.

-

To keep going.

When I was young, 

my dad would read me Hop On Pop

and tell me that he loved me.

When I had to go back home,

I would scream and cry,

and he would say, Stop, It’s Fine,

hand me the book, and say,

Take This. You’ll Feel Better.

-

When I was a teenager, 

I felt like I would never be loved.

Like there was no one in the world

who would ever look at me and say,

Wow.

So I threw myself at boys

who would all simply pull down their pants and say,

Take This. You’ll Feel Better.

-

After a very, very long nap,

I felt like I should die.

I was sallow and my hair was thin,

and I took down all my mirrors,

and I bit my nails all the way down to the cuticle,

and I cried every day.

Until some doctor, some day, some where, told me

Take This. You’ll Feel Better.

-

But I’ve never really felt better.

And I got so tired of all these home remedies,

of all these dads and boyfriends and doctors,

confusing themselves for my happiness.

Confusing books or cocks or pills for 

love.

And I told myself that I would never

Take Anything To Try And Feel Better.

-

I hung my mirrors back up

and I smiled at my reflection.

I looked at myself and said,

I am the only person who can make me 

smile

this way, and thats fine,

and even though it may be

hard, or sad, or lonely, or sometimes unbearable,

I can survive. 

I can live life,

I can have wonderful experiences,

a loving family,

fantastic friends.

And I can be happy.

-

So, Take That. I Do Feel Better.

Gr.

I am entitled to all of these hearts that I take;

the collection of them that I have in a letter box underneath my bed.

They belong to me, whether they were gifts or simply taken.

I am deserving of all of the smiles I have gathered,

the trust that was, among other things, poured into my lap.

The passion that was thrown at me without the slightest want for it,

the fan club of suitors competing for my affections like Penelope’s. 

I should be permitted the sun, the stars, 

the drops of the oceans and the sands of the deserts.

No one else should be allowed that kind of love.

It should be fashioned into a coat to keep me warm in winter,

just eagle feathers and silk and tears.

I am entitled to all of the looks that you give me,

flirtatious and lewd.

I consume them for sustenance. 

I store them in the freezer and pull them out when I feel hungry,

thirsty,

lonely.

I tenderize the hearts until they beat again. 

I revive them in the microwave. 

Drinking your warmth might be the only way to keep me alive.

To hide the truth that I don’t have any of my own beneath my skin.

Any heart.

Any affection.

Any trust.

Any love.

Any thing.

At all.