| Still Writing Poetry.... |
| Fear was gripping tight, my heart. I was all alone. I gasped and shivered as I ran, headed for my home. The night was dense and cloudy. The air reeked of the dead. I prayed that if there was a god, I�d soon wake up in bed I turned and glanced around my back The living dead were there. Running just as fast as I. Reaching for my hair. A swift one somehow caught me Rotted flesh and bone. I quickly twisted off its arms Continued running home I scarcely made it to my door. I hardly got inside. I barely bolted up the locks and found a place to hide. I righted myself hopelessly and fell back to the ground. Weak, exhausted and afraid, I listened to their sound. They pounded hard against the walls and voiced their breathy moans. The stench of death was all around The sounds of cracking bones. The night was slowly wearing on, and I began to weep. Hoping this was just a dream and I was just asleep. |
| I contemplated this some more, to gather up my hope. Maybe I was sleeping sound, or smoked up too much dope. And while I fought between the two, Yet leaning toward the latter, I heard my refuge breaking down, I heard the windows shatter. The fear swelled up in side me, my heart picked up its pace. That�s when I felt the rotted fingers slide across my face. I slowly pivoted my head and saw it was my mom. Sitting with me in the dark, waiting all along. She seemed to chuckle just a bit, and flash a toothless grin. She knew that I had no way out, She knew that she would win. She took a chunk out of my arm. It was as quick as that. I gazed at her in disbelief. She chewed as she looked back. The blood ran quickly down my limb, much to her delight. She swallowed down the hunk of skin, then took another bite. I was paralyzed with shock. Pain shivered through my chest, While I watched my mommy feast upon her daughter�s flesh. And when the others piled on, and I began to scream. I realized with complete despair That this was not a dream. |
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| Something desperate and lonely infests my core. It sobs and aches, Yearning for something unknown, Something untouchable. I feel raw inside, Abused. The terrible sadness condenses, Weighs on my heart until it is too heavy to hold, Too thick to pump. I choke on it. Trying to breath when there is no air, To live, where there is no life. |
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| Restlessness and anticipation are my forte. My passion chases me in every waking moment. Dominated by unknown motives, I never know what I am doing until it�s done. Imbalanced, Unsure, and erratic. I feel uncontrollable, Ancient and wild, Hollow yet full of madness. I can�t live through the dullness. But I can�t survive the heat of my own intensity. |