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11 May 2011 @ 06:07 pm
It was ongoing like a highway,
through isolation and pocketed population.
I stared through the glass, driving
in a direction determined by the wind
And you slept in the back, oblivious to
the tumult inside my head,
my heart breaking with silent tears
you will never see or hear.
I know, I know, you love me
with your all inclusive will,
But you continue forgetting
I am not my own, I am not this
free bird across an expanse of sea
you see inside your head.
Each night, I break, and in the
corner of the room I leave humanity
in its bag of bones and
blood runs from the corners of my mouth.
Hell never claimed my soul
in one night, my love.
It was a procession of splinters and thorns,
of mildew growing in the wet parts of my face,
crowning the oblivion I begged from the other side.
I am as damned as this night,
stretching without break, no street lamps to
give succor to the lost. I am
driving and you are sleeping,
Dream, dear one, dream,
and I inch closer to the fall. Please,
no pity to be had, you are unmarked by
this pact I have made.
Cries catch in my throat and
my vision swims with things that will never be,
I will never be free of Lucifer's persuasive
grace. Sleep, you are safe, and I will take
you across to the other side
But when you wake, I will be gone
like the wind which showed me the way
faraway from you.
 
 
21 May 2008 @ 04:59 pm

The world is small,
The world is small,

She is sick and tired of us all,
She is dying so slowly and painfully,

.
 

 
 
Location: Rental Home
Mood: artisticartistic
Music: N/A
 
 
18 April 2008 @ 04:47 pm
 
I wonder what you would do,
If I spun my heart out on your fingers?
Tracing lines of hope,
Shedding fear and consequence,
Untying ropes of pain and time.

Would you kiss each tear away,
Tasting the salt of love?
Or spurn and shred and bend with a gesture,
That which was so delicately made,
Held together and spelled out for you?
Tags:
 
 
Mood: curiouscurious
 
 
17 April 2008 @ 10:57 pm
 
here's to the holster
here's till the responsibility grows too much'
or response too little

here, here, my boys and girls,
hear the mountain sing in Las Vegas
over black-jack and poker masters

here's to the newlingo
the alphabetting sinner
the alpha-omega bedwetter

come one and all, true or not at all
Tags: