Muse
...musing since January 18, 2004
Circling
9.04.04
To explain, again
Thus she rises.
The pain shifts through
As the sunlight through the patterns
On the walls, which you painted.
Once, twice, three coats you made.
And watched as they dried
Like lullabies birthed from the imagination
Which is the lonely womb of the mind.
A tomb, you placed this child in
And the breath was suffocated with simplicity.
The walls you painted
Once, twice, three times a-gone
Fade and crack like those dead and empty
You scatter them behind you, for they matter no more.
No longer can they matter
For the numbness is breathed in
Through coats of paint
Sifting and seeping beneath the fragile exterior
Your skin, a thin layer that the slightest cut can expose
For the weakness it truly is.
Weakness, brethren to your smile.
I’ve learned this, from watching your secrets unfold
Like creases in the paper, you cannot remove the remnants
And they grow in length and difficulty
Until one, two, three coats- is never enough.
You are never enough.
Somehow, you are oblivious to this fact
Because of the simplicity which you are now blind to.
The over-done vengeance
Dealt by fate, for the death, for the crime
You so willingly committed
Subliminal, but purposefully all the same.
And the mind is a magnificent thing
Where dreams are bred and born
Into more webs, and mazes which you will never follow
Never trace their winding paths
For the mind is a magnificent thing
One which you cannot suffocate
Beneath one, two, three coats of paint- of shadows.
Of nothing...
Nothing makes sense.
The comment is made in simplicity with a raised look
And left unanswered with a sneer.
So simple, your simplistic views.
And pain, you must face for your inquisitive nature
Inhuman, so they’ll say.
And so, to explain, again
Thus she rises.
But the pain shifts through
And the circle is still incomplete.
<--- fall into my patterened tears... [return]
<---<--- catch me as i fall? [CS]