| Poetry Thread -
07-28-07
She tries to gingerly wipe off the blood
That dribbles down from the cut across her face
Another dark night, soon dripping with the sun's yellow seed
In the morning she will no longer be the mother of three
I'm bathing in the cool porcelin tub, scraping needles into
me, into my bones, into my lips, my eyes, into my ears
I want to feel the reality of this life. The pain I never knew.
When she cries I don't care. But somewhere I really do.
Night time is dark, soft cotten and blue...and I don't write the stars
I'm curling the flowers in my hands, burning incense and chanting to the laced heavens where the buddhavistas pray in their temples. Do they listen? I can't hear the words, I can't see anymore. I never thought being blind would feel so strange...how being out of touch simply
made too much sense.
She's standing in the water, knee deep and she's walking in in. Father don't pretend you know me like you think you do. You only hear me, you never understand. Father, you are afraid of me. Everything to you was a sin. He moans and she lets the words escape her. She's drowning her poems in the sea, beside the starfish and dreaming sky. She wanted her dreams to come true. Did they only wake up just to die...
Amphetamines pouring into your substance, soulless pitiless eyes portruding hands and theatres of sound, flashing lights, you can drown here- its safe.
She only needs one last moment to capture, the feeling of death and deathlessness meshed together. Ecstasy and Pure Darkness devine,
Sweet moments laced with pain, and I'm fine she says, "I'm fine." | 
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