I'll see her soul floating in thin space surrounded by adoring faces
of grotesque amusement. And I'll be there for her, through
the nova to super. A sparkle in the stars of a
goddess that sees all
and accepts the fate that she has chosen, beaming in the orange
afterglow of knowing that you'll continue onward with her through
her journey
An intertwining entanglement twisting spiral of
emotion spoken verse through shreds
of hair overlapping ears enveloped in the mind
of a poet the paper queen and razor king
the light plays a soulful time stretched across harpsichords
of ****** bone she stands amidst the destruction. A beauty of
*******
tainted blood running in rivulets down her thighs. Looking at her vile
nameplate in the mirror. The object of her hatred her own soul.
Betrayed easily by a lovers hand
A lovers love convulsing putrid green from behind her eyes
a demon that's been awakened a last call for a feeling long since
forgotten but longed for breathlessly
yearning to feed on her hardened heart. Cold and barren
from years of other diversions besides blowing her
calming storm over it. A festering wound from whence came
her own destruction.
The bracelets left by a lovers palms greased for enjoyment
a monkeys paw make a wish but be careful
wishing is for lighthearted fools. Only time can
save her now. Stitching together her spine
with rusty wire and dull needles. Hinges that are necessary to
open up the door to the fates that twist her insides. Cotton
truly makes her tick.
Made of straw old and rotten hanging on a cross
a symbol forgotten. Watch the stitches unravel
and conspire into snakes swimming the oceans miles
drowning the last visage of hope. The soft white underbelly of a
faith long ago dubbed "unreliable" who will
save them now?
A circle with Cs on either end a faith an idea the doll
deserted in the corner of a child's room that never came home
with a broken arm and a cracked porcelain face waiting for
someone to wipe off the dust, make her feel wanted again. Shell
wait until the air caves in her delicate mouth. Blowing
holes through a time faded dress. Caressing decaying eyelashes
about to fall away
Caressing the downfall outstretched hands that reach
so far the decay sets in as ****** claw regression
into obsession
yet can never make it to the other side where acceptance
rules the heart and blonde hair fades after so long leaving
the ravished ones old and worn
A tower on a hill, the hair flowing still birth into
the warm womb of a bees nest built for a porcelain doll
long since face has faded to Raggedy Ann china *****
spreading her 1950's Compton pantaloons to the masses
wondering why none of them will invite her into their hybrid
plantations of rioting smiles and half lit eyes that never seem
to stop tearing
Ripping the seems of societies blunders the under stitching that
hides the batteries of a thing not present red hair fade to gray
as times progresses the lines fade
into a remote inkling of remembrance. The hands that covered
her existence pushing her gently yet leaving painted bruises.
An art exhibit in the making. Pay me for pleasure
I bring but leave my soul to peace
Leave my peace to suffering
This is exhibit A. witness testify to a false maker
of false hopes a dreamers dream disappearing on the lids of
a waking being. So is the theme spoken in rainbow
brilliance the soul is trapped in a toys body break me discard me
no use for this
this is exhibit B. a lifeless rendition of a restless warrior begging
to be freed from his crime in watching his own hands children
and a pregnant woman willing to sell her soul for redemption.
Break him, discard him but never let him forget
Time elapses travel to the future, Raggedy Andy and the soul
a machine cold and calculating everyone wants one for Christmas
unwrap the gift and sell it tomorrow
wont get much out of it. Devoid of extraneous packaging
it's lost it's worth and the scars are blessed tracing them with my tongue
a willing conspirator in your lie that you live day to day. Praying to whatever
that tomorrow you won't wake up and the pain will stop. Should have never
bequeathed my soul then because now I'll never let you go
The welcomed touch of another to soothe the decay build a house of
legos galore a horror left untold but whispered in empty space someday
it will reach the ears all will be out of place the blessing of scars and the blessing
of tides. Wash the dreams into reality
yet with your eyes squeezed shut you cannot see the smiles
I flash you from across the room. Another cold winter with plastic walls,
the floor rough beneath my paper thin feet. I am getting older and your passion
still falls to ripping me open and seeing what color I am today. Your
dream is my hell. A reality we all want but some never have a blessing
of the tides for you but not the patchwork of needle veins left on my
heart
A ragdoll sows well after unthreading unraveled secrets that are being
spoken a hidden meaning in things known so well and held
so dear the addict is addicted the silver polish of another exit
and a feared exit (exist)
picking away at the surface he is relieved to see his own
reflection on fates tinderbox. Matches with his name on them and other
wealth's of knowledge he cannot comprehend. I take in his
apathy and replace him whole.
Existence is superficial floating ecstasy through a ravers midnight
meltdown the drugs that soothed soon are smoothed out of the system
a gentle touch the softest if skin paper thin paper thin
licking the edges and listening fast, a deep puff, euphorium. Wanting to
play tonight the caterpillar sees, puffing his own blue smoke fast.
bloodshot eyes hide the daylight from your stolen afternoon. The headboard begs
for some grease, let's at today, my love, let's break me again
The twins of wonderland and the cat disappearing a story
forever after faintly breathing from the lips of the souls
sought wondering
sharing a shotgun with a confidant the after taste sour and strained. Not
enough we all see into your twisted head. Plucking on my heart strings
too rough. Wanting to see me bleed. Not this time the queen of hearts will
soon beat you with a flamingo and send you flapping
through the hourglass a king of king and clams
A nursery rhyme for all children to sleep a child's toy finally
dies leaving behind soiled memories
a VERY OLD poem written long ago with Brook Ilges (Italicized.) this was a night long poetry rant. it falls into the "good for what it is" kinda category. It has no structure, no reason, no rhyme. Just hyped up teens spitting words to each other.