your emotions are a black hole
they are always growing
in darkness
and never filled with
anything that resembles light,
eager to devour all that you see-
when your spinning emotional
avalanche falls upon me
i shudder in its wake…
And when you choose to share
your misery with others
all see you and despair
for your selfish heart is
full of only you
and no others
and all you can see is you
and your darkness
and i am tired of living in
the dusk of love
Tag: sorrow
pay
this child haunts the halls
of your broken sight
always lost and losing
afraid to let people into
this darkness lest they find a light
and shine it on all the filth
that remains in this room of pain
there’s nothing there to steal
and you’ve left nothing to gain
your poison in my lungs
and your illusion for my brain
i will wait no longer for you though
falcon’s wings take me away
but in the end I will have you
and you will be asked to pay
prison of mind
I dug a hole
The soil was dark and wet
I could smell the musty earth
Under my fingers, on my clothes
Covering my knees..
Perhaps someday I will lie inside
This muddy hole and let the world
Drift by… though I hold no false
Hope for me..
Oh that ends could be so easy!
I would drift into the rain swept sky
Releasing all the world ever taught
Me to believe
Alas I’m still here, covered now in
This musty earth, waiting for a time
When my heart, strong and hard,
Might deign to release
Me from this prison
Of mind
sorry i am
i could tell you again
how sorry i am
for the demons that still
walk my dreams
and line my head…
i could tell you again
that you’re not to blame
for all of this
heartache…
that broken pieces of the vase
in which i store my soul
are lying at my feet-
and when you step-
you cut
and bleed…
i could tell you again that i am sorry
for it all….
but i don’t think you can hear me
anymore
eclipse the day
daylight is brewing
and the sound of busy
birds fill my head with pretty
tunes
they have been singing
for hours now
as i’ve laid in bed-
alone with this anger,
my heart
and my head-
it’s raging through, lashing
and scratching
so appalling, alas though,
what else what can i do?
i’ve sat with this pain for so long now
i’m drowning in the darkness
of this horrid state…
trapped, i wait for the sunlight
to remind me that i’m awake
and okay…
how does one keep going-
when anger-so strongly- can eclipse
the day?
silence
the breathe of life that
so smoothly glided from
your tongue to my heart
filled darkness with splashes
of light… vibrant colors
washed away these lines
of gray
and though the words you
spoke were also touched
with pain
i licked them all up with a fervency
matched only by the despair
of loneliness left by
the silence of your leaving
spots of time
lost to words that dangle
in the air around my eyes
i pull them one by one
down from the ether
and decide how they fit
together
this puzzle of poetry that haunts
my dreams with color and sound,
defining feeling and thought…
how can these hanging words
understand the utterances
of my heart?
oh wordsworth and your spots of time!
would that I also get trapped within
my own reveries under the
sycamore tree of art! i would lose
myself forever
this wondrous bellow of love
and pain…
of darkness and suffering;
how is this human condition
so clearly marked by a universal
language lingering in the sky?
the fool
there was nothing there for me
when i looked into that
grand expanse
it was all just noise
and though i longed for some
great sage advice
that might lead me perhaps
to that which i seek
i sit in disappointment
because the darkness i so
wished to confront
was but my own echo
back at me
the frailty of life! what can release
the dull ache that lies just beneath
this exterior of cool?
perhaps it’s all just a fake
and I am the ultimate fool
mighty river’s flow
the tickling of rain, falling
against window glass lines my view
with streaks of fractured light
and broken sound…
the quiet death of suicidal
drops, colliding against clear
but solid- illusion…
how I feel for these lovingly mistaken
falling children of the clouds
oh that they should suffer
at my windowpane
without knowledge of the mistake
they are making in their falling…
and to see the love
my heart holds for you yet the same!
and decide rather to fall through trees
instead onto pane…
so that I might turn from that
which mirrors my descent and land
instead into the mighty river’s flow
vile hold
darkened squalor-
criss crossed and dirty;
these walls are lined
with your filth,
with your hatred and pain…
what can cure a heart of such
wretchedness-
of such unsanitary condition-
when you locked the door so long ago
and ate the key in your selfishness?
now bloated and rotting this chest
of mine waits for some divine
locksmith to find me
hiding within the stench
of your hatred
to release the vile hold
your disease has had over me
the SIBYL'S SONG 