Monday, November 22, 2010

The fall of the crimson curtain






Murmuring their dissent are the voices of the night,
'wakening latent fears that take from the moon its soothing light,
whilst the shadows, in a trance, paint disturbing pictures black,
on the walls within your heart, that now plunder and ransack
all the order you've created in the shambles of your life,
as they rip with sharpened edge through this canvas with a knife,
bringing fresh blood to the surface of the mirror-smooth reflection
that was gazing at the world, in its place a crimson curtain.



picture credit: http://images2.layoutsparks.com/1/40783/cry-blood-red-tears.jpg



Monday, November 15, 2010

Whispers







And thus we find ourselves,
hovering,
on the edge of the world,
lingering on the brink between darkness and light.
And it's here that we share
our sorrows and our thrills,
our dreams and our regrets,
all the while drifting
closer and closer,
'til we breathe the same breath,
think the same thoughts,
before melting as one to the ill-ordained whispers of the wind.

But the wind that blows,
blows in cold with the breaking dawn,
burning away the fevered promises,
blistering the dreams we so briefly dreamt,
reducing our joy to a heap of dry ashes now drifting away in this wind.

...as the voices from the dark side bewitch and enchant.
Gilded sureties flowing from their glib and faithless tongue,
broken words promising to return the heat into our veins
while a nothingness fills our sleepless dreams
in a void of numb surrender.

Yet when we eventually still we'll hear
the forming dewdrops in the silence of the dawn.
And as the first light, with its steadfast warmth
thaws the icy cold that has gripped our hearts in a vice,
defrosting the immobility of our senseless mind,
nudges us to stand up on this fragile ledge
and turn away from the pervading gloom;
towards our choices, emerging, shy as a shimmer,
freeing our spirit, our sight and our soul,
as our shadowy bonds dissolve.






Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Obsession









Can you feel the grip of obsession, draw into your skin,
as you stand with your back to a bare brick wall
in a darkened alleyway, giving in to fantasies meant to remain hidden forever.
Can you feel its strength, the power, as it gains control,
demanding surrender with each fevered breath,
threatening to burn you alive, or die,
but submit you must, the choice is no longer yours to make.
You swallow your breath, your eyes start to close
as you desperately seek these illicit sensations,
for you are the puppet
of a need, a desire, to sink, sink, sink
in the dark world of raging compulsion,
indescribable to those
who have never experienced
its insatiable greed, compulsive need and driving force,
of free-falling into that black oblivion
of a body, a mind, completely numb...



picture credit: http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs40/f/2009/006/f/0/f0c31ea65f77cf707c72db204cbe7d29.jpg