i see...

Picture courtesy of Sin City

i look out over the city from the rooftop of a deserted building

taking in the smells of fast food and petrol fumes.

i see the brightly flickering lights, feel the beat of a bass drum,

one that pulls you into the hot pulsing air of music and lust,

seducing your body into an alcoholic haze

that awakens in a strangers apartment

as the sun pierces your consciousness

beside a name you cannot recall. 

i see the hustlers of oblivion in the shadows of old doorways,

briefly illuminated hands exchanging greed for a numb nirvana,

that veils the shadows in your soul before you sink into the welcome silence

of an absent mind and anaesthetized limbs.

night after night i watch these hollow seekers haunting the streets,

a veneer of carefree enjoyment firmly in place,

whilst it’s shame and guilt that propels them back to the caverns of hell,

seeking to die one more time by their hand,

and escape a tomorrow that is lived in yesterday.

The Devil who's Hanging over Me

picture credit: http://lady-amarillis.deviantart.com/art/Question-183541305

I’ve willingly lain in your lap of thorns, drawn in your poison, listened to your whispered oaths of silent detachment, an echoless void of sweet floating velvet with unspoken promises of my demise.

 

I followed you gladly, succumbed to my recklessness, heeded your every summons and I questioned not a word as I sank into your controlled emotionless state.

 

Empty black eyes stared back at me through the mirror, gaunt of face with lifeless lips, indifference and black became the clothes I wore, and impassive the language that I spoke.

 

I have so little strength left, my blood is draining through the wounds left by your thorns and as it colours red the rocks beneath my feet they feed your power, while I become a cold and lifeless form, falling, just as promised, to my demise.

 

In the Silence of the Night

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Silence-of-Night-49682324

 

I love the darkness, the silence of the night,

the glittering stars and the bright moonlight,

the silver sheen it imparts on the world

hiding the blemish, the cracked, broken girl,

who sits every night, in a daze with her dreams,

with her heart that is bleeding and the voices that scream,

that torture her soul with cold memories repressed,

reviving the past that the future infests.

And her tears freely fall under eyes that don’t see,

who don’t know of the grief in her soul as it weeps,

‘til the starlight envelops her psyche with light,

giving strength to her dreams and restoring her sight.

 

 

The End

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/a-dream-on-our-way-to-death-16978662

The song that plays yet never is heard,
its notes pierce your heart and slaughter your soul,
you breathe your last breath, to the end you yield.

Breathless Moments

picture source: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/375909900121089957/

i cannot utter a words for all the emotions that are chasing through my system.  whereas an indolent satisfaction lingers in my limbs, my mind cannot focus long enough to identify the words flowing faster, ever faster, through my head.  i fold myself in two and wrap my arms around my legs, rest my chin on my knees and with closed eyes just breathe......... to slow down. to still a racing pulse. but all i feel is a spinning elation, a tingling on my skin as if cool fingers were caressing me, and the butterflies return with a rush deep down inside, ‘cause it always ends with music, it always ends with you.............

Summer of '81

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lips-17017373

She lay in the dark, waiting for the house to fall silent

before sneaking out her window, down the road

to the grand old double storey.  Listening to the whispering pine trees

that surround the house, her bare feet pad across the wooden porch

to the very last window at the end.

She stopped, looking at the window she knew would be open,

at the softly billowing curtains waving her in and to the bed beyond,

glowing white in the silver full moon.

She slipped through the window towards the motionless figure watching her,

his chest bare, legs tangled in sheets, and he said “I knew you would come...”.

His eyes slowly trawled her body, a shockwave of desire rushing over her skin

that licked the new-found awareness of her senses into an driving need

that drew him to her and while the stars passed overhead, they left the night behind.

Then the turning stars in the sky left them with the falling leaves

of these endless summer nights that they lived with abandon

in the light of the moon and the whispering trees,

who’s needles remain forever, in the dying yellowing surround.

Butterflies and Owls

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Craving-28039236

She slides her hand into the back pocket of her blue jeans,

feels something, pulls out a green wrapper from a piece of gum,

she frowns, recalling the hand that had placed it there,

deep in thought she slowly walks on…

In the warm breeze at dusk, she stretches out on the lawn,

staring up at a sky of colours that swirl and merge in hypnotic patterns,

when a pair of butterflies hover over her for the briefest of moments,

before drifting into the blackening sky, leaving whispers in the wind.

But it’s the hooting of the owl who shares his presence with her soul,

who dives in with a silent rush of air, when her whispers revealed a powerful draw

towards a hollow void of destruction she was unable and unwilling to stop,

and he swoops her from the edge of her private hell, while her future plays in his eyes.

The Chess Pieces Have Fallen

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/release-me-9121437

 

There’s a warm air blowing through the windows,

cobwebs tear free and drift away into the silver nightscape

of the realm of the full moon.

 

A boldness has infused in my step, in my veins a steady pulsing

that seeks pursuits borne of thrills and exhilaration

at the sharp edge of a fatal divide.

 

The chess pieces have fallen, pieces of a torn photograph

lie amongst the shards of a bloodstained memory

that collapses into a permanent darkness.

 

Old fears have lost their power, at rest the guilt not mine to bear,

the coat of self-protection floats away in muddy waters

and my true self steadily rises in the dawn of my release...

 

 

The Puppet Master and the Puppet

picture credit:http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Flesh-Puppet-260538841 

 

I need the escape from repression,

disguised as a choker that slowly strangles

as it wields control over behaviour

deemed unacceptable in his eyes,

all the while rewarding my performance

when this puppet dances to the strings

of the puppet master, you.

 

...Madness!

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Restless-81512748

 

Restless creeps through my bones with stealth and sharp nails, rippling a path of discomfort I rub off on you, and my jaw is clenched, my muscles keep flexing, I pace through the house with an edge that pushes you away and I can retreat into my inner silence that will give me room to breathe...

 

...with love

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/white-sand-132261167

The smiling moon has taken my hand

and is guiding me as it grows,

filling me with its clarity

that burns my fears to ashes,

in dreams that belong to me alone.

The stars are laid out

like cat’s eyes on a highway,

to where the sand kisses the water

and my spirit can fly free.

I stretch out on the glowing sand

feel your presence heat my skin,

I take your essence into mine,

and with love, wish the world a goodbye.

What Tomorrow Brings

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/closing-153967776

 It was the whisper of a thought without form
that emerged from the shadows,
skimming your subconscious,
waiting for you to see and accept it in your soul.

At first sight you tossed it in the corner

faster than a bolt of lightning

as it burned your hand and your heart

 with the truth you’ve been hiding

from yourself all this time.

While the clock kept on ticking,
it lay smouldering,
waiting for your breath of courage
to take it, own it and
breathe life into it...

...and on the sunrise of a certain morning

you knew the time was right

to follow the thread of possibility

that had stretched and grown

and you loath to close

the opening doors

to a daunting unknown tomorrow.