KAI cannot escape the pang
The pain of forgiveness
That shall never come-
I do not want to forget
Yet I do not want to remember
I have too many thoughts
That scathe in and out of my brain
And that torment me un-relentlessly
Like ghosts in an empty old house
Which is broken and rotting away to the core
Yet no one wants to destroy
For 'aesthetic value'
My body is an aesthetic
Covered in the ashes of pain
And life, destroyed
Crumbled away to ashes
I am blue like a god
Beaded and crowned
Adorned in the flesh
Yet removed from all consciousness.
Desert FlowerYou told me your heart was a desert
Then you gave me a cactus.
I don't know what to make of that.
Am I an effigy . . . a memento to desolation?
Am I spiny and harsh?
Am I green, limber and cold
Reveling in my thorns?
You told me that I live in my own dreamworld
It is fine . . . because they all know me there.
Yet I don't want to be a cactus . . .
Although your heart is barren
And full of sand.
I had rather be an oasis
In my land of dreams.
SoliloquySometimes it's hard to imagine-
To figure out
Where you end
And I begin
Around bare ankles
Tasting the bitterness of youth
My tongue stumbles on our words
Yet we still remain.
We are nothing but a lie
Our feelings are doomed
To repeat themselves in unison
Along with my slit wrists
Along with my heart
Weekend HobbySharing drinks,
An alcohol induced
Case of fascination.
Illusions façade is romance
Disguising organic urge.
Climax and silence
She dresses and leaves.
Into all-knowing eyes;
Made beautiful through whiskey
And exciting through lies.
The wrong and the right
The reality and detail
Of intoxicated night.
The obligatory demand
for a female imprisoned
by the one-night stand.
Just like Heaven "The mind,
Can make a heaven of hell,
a Hell of heaven"
She was up first as
The Reality of DreamsIt was the tenth anniversary of his death. She sat on the sofa,
trying to focus on the magazine article she was reading. Outside,
Nature exhaled as the wind began blowing. She shivered, and
realized that the temperature had dropped and the blue sweater
she was wearing was not keeping her warm. The grandfather
clock in the corner chimed three times. Her focus left the pages
in her hand and centered on the ornate mahogany timepiece
signaling the hour. It had been a gift from her to him on their
50th wedding anniversary. He had loved the clock, taking great
care to keep it polished, and running perfectly. It's presence
comforted her, as though part of him remained through it.
While a day never passed that she didn't think about him, the
holidays and anniversaries were much harder to bear. Times that
people celebrate the joy of life only seemed to underscore the
void left by his absence.
Still feeling cold, she rose from the sofa and prepared to light the
fireplace. While ceramic logs had
PassageShe was calmer than she thought she would be. Portraits on the
mahogany walls watched lifelessly as Madelaine opened the drawer
of the bureau and removed the gun from it's hiding place.
Checking to see if it was loaded, she paused, examining the cold
steel of the weapon. It was a reminder of all she was then, all she
was no longer. It had not been so in the beginning. It was her
strength and spirit that he seemed to find so attractive. His words
were as honey, sweetly dripping from his lips. He wanted her to
share his life, and he would wrap his strong arms around her and
she would feel safe and loved. But the arms that embraced her were
a well-disguised trap. He was the spider, she the fly, Too late, she
found herself fixed in his opulent web.
Gun in hand, she walked through the rooms of the house, her
gaze touching upon the crystal, marble and art that were
featured throughout. They reflected their owner-pleasing to
look at, but devoid of warmth. She too had been placed here as a
Daily IrreverenceLearning silence from your words;
I am becoming independent in my submission.
Growing in stagnation;
I am thinking outside of your box.
Presentation is the key
To keeping the diary of my soul secured
From your reckless use
Of my heart.