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Drift I escape into the hue of blue. Erase my mind and drift away. Escape this life and its decay. Keep me safe. Protect me dear. Embrace my heart. Hold me near. Steal my tongue. Prevent my scream. Close my eyes Enter my dream. 11.9.00 ~ ~ ~ Empty Appreciation is obligation. "They did all they could for you." They did not know me. Who do I owe for my nights of tears? Who do I owe for my life of fears? I look above, and nothing's there. Nothing but dark clouds drifting by along with my last of hopes of anything divine. 11.10.00 ~ ~ ~ Consequential Realm Rest is what I crave. I devour pleasures and sink down again. I inflict decay upon my own eternity. I whirl into a world unknown every day. My world of blue. My comfort's lack. My shade of black. Perpendicular mind curls to fragility, perplexing infecting perfecting itself. She said I'm red. 11.10.00 ~ ~ ~ Recollection I remember life and death unfolding in my dreams. The sweet, soft whisper of the hot forest in the moist night. I remember the murmur of falling rain, the intimacy of tears as salty streams beat their paths in my skin. I remember groping for comfort and coming up empty; learning my place (or lack thereof). Remember... my life my past my childhood... My nothingness. 11.15.00 ~ ~ ~ Definition I am alive. I am dying. I am loved. I am alone. I am free. I am restrained. I am all this. I am nothing. I am myself forever more. Eyes of glass touch the floor. I have not seen my life. I am not quite alive. 11.16.00 ~ ~ ~ Doppelganger Lovely. That's what she is. A timid, fragile flower teeming with creativity, awaiting its cork pulled. Poetic. That's what she is. A surging being of words, writing, always writing in her lonely hours. Shy. That's what sh is. Cringing in the background; starving her tongue, feasting her eyes. Naive. That's what she is. She has auras to absorb, knowledge to gain, experiences of pain. Myself. That's what she is. My beauty, my poetry; my fear, my naivete. She is I, yet, am I truly she? 11.16.00 ~ ~ ~ Bleeding Game I write forever of myself. I place my soul upon a shelf. I gaze into my probing eyes. I glimpse the pain from all your lies. I see my aura, gray and cold. I spy my hope for love untold. I place the mirror far away. I do not wish this game to play. I cannot face my darkest fear. I cannot face my father dear. I wish to find my secret cave. I wish to break my role of slave. I crawl into my sorrow's pool. I place away my precious tool. I see the echo of those eyes. I hear the echo of those lies. I lay myself with thoughts that bleed. I drown myself in memory. 11.16.00 ~ ~ ~ Screaming Butterfly She is lost in isolated shadows, pushing against a brick wall of her own blood. She is beaten from beneath and dragged down by undertow in a sea of hypocrisy. She throws herself in a black bottle with crimson smiles and spites him. She spits and hisses like a voluptuous feline and wrong becomes right. He whips her, he strikes her, yet it is she that makes the scars visible. She secludes herself in candlelight, reveals her shred of comfort and watches her pain trickle away... 11.16.00 ~ ~ ~ Rosebud Helix She is a lover in disguise, an aching social vex. Living love behind closed eyes, a future so perplexed. Observation is the key, perfection comes long after; but with her foolish fantasies, she is a thing for laughter. He is a black-haired angel abound with unplanned dreams; and each progressing page will add to rejection's means. Rain can never wash away the pain that he's endured; twenty years been led astray and shown no trace of cure. So long these two souls lay adrift in an isolated world. For their hearts, no altar gift, no secrets yet unfurled. Yet when they are placed together, the lies of lust they mock. An eternity they endeavor with imaginary wedlock. 11.16.00 ~ ~ ~ Gossamer Isle I sing eternally with sorrow's wail, a siren lost at sea. I perch upon my private isle and gaze into the deep. I see life all around me without which I can merge; I feel the lick of the gloating sea and beg for hopeless purge. The sea, it roars with envy at my golden, gossamer wings; but as for myself, I weep at my loss of everything. All I have is my cold isle stained with salt and tear; all I know is loneliness, isolation and fear. I shall give the jealous waters what they so much crave. I will wander to the raving sea and exit from my cave. 11.21.00 |