The flame
a perpetual hog roast
slowly turning
memories of you
the flame of
fury
Sustained by their love
and his lust,
the purple eyed vampire
sucked him dry,
wreaking havoc
in the fragile,
feeble mind
of the innocent child.
I close my eyes and
picture myself,
when I open them
a stranger is looking
back at me.
Who am I,
really?
I’ve lived
I’ve loved
Shared laughter
and tears.
What more is there
to cling to when a
siren’s call is heard?
The fireworks of vanity in their hearts, breaks the waltz of boredom.
In the womb of sin, the neon of Shangri-La, the bottomless swamp is filled with broken dreams.
Evil tongues, black as night, spreading laughter and lies through wind and demise.
Three dead moons at the the end of the dream. A women of power from darkness revealed.
Hello there,
Hope you are well today.
I don’t normally do this, this being writing a response to something which was not a question or otherwise sent in my general direction. I will make an exception today as I try to embrace change and this being a first represent that type of change I would like to embrace. So bare with me if you are still reading… and if so, thank you!, and keep going 🙂
I read the piece you wrote the other day and it affected my mode somewhat, which is why I decided to put down my thoughts on a crumbling piece of papyrus. Although after some frantic search for papyrus in the attic and later a serious consideration for the trees of the world I decided to go virtual and post it on Tumbler instead. I hope you don’t mind, I will name you anonymous for now.
As of your expression of the increasing hate for yourself I can fully relate, well not hate of you (as of that I have none) but the hate of the self (me, myself and I in this case). The effort we make to try and keep everyone happy for every second of the day, the questioning if we deserve to be happy when we cannot make others happy, the idea that we will have to give something up to be happy, I can relate to it all, completely.
So my advice to you is… none. Sorry I did not write this letter to give you advice, I wrote it to make you aware that people (not a single person) would be happier if you somehow disappeared and disconnected from the world in whichever way, physical or spiritual. I shall not continue down a fluffy path here but end by saying that your creative side is a gift you have been given and one that results in words and other gifts that the world (and the self!) is enjoying immensely. I wish to continue to enjoy the fruits of your labour so for my sake and the sake of the balance of the world I hope you keep on creating.
Remember that there is nothing wrong with only painting with back and white on some days, there are an infinite number of shades of grey there to make a world.
Bye for now 🙂
Red is the canvas on the easel
morbid thoughts painting blood.
Red stains on the carpet,
slowly drying, leaving marks.
Red fingers, I carry with me,
obsessive cleaning, to no avail.
Red stains on your sheets,
spoils our dreams of a child.
I would never be an anon
asking things of you
that I wouldn’t ask in person
face to face with you
thus silent – I remain
The chosen diet of
Sauvignon Blanc and
chocolate were slowly
starting to make a
differences as I climbed
higher and higher into
the shadows where the
line between reality
and dreams begun
to look like the sand between
my toes on a sunny beach.
I have buttons you know
and if you press them
in the right order I will
sing for you forever.
Continuously pressing them
in the wrong order and
I will slowly, and not gracefully
explode.
Till death do us part – it
could get messy.