Author’s Note: Look at me. Posting and stuff. I wrote this
because I needed to. Because I needed a little voodoo doll to unburden some piercing
pain. And I found it in this long, sporadically formatted, creative concoction.
It’s a little weird. But aren't we all. It’s a little broken. But aren't we
all. It flows, it goes, it turns, it yearns, it meddles, peaks, it settles. So
read a little between the lines. But not too much, no need to get lost in
thoughts that don’t belong to your troubled mind. So just sit back, read, and
pretend everything is okay. You know that old saying. Fake it until you stop
wanting to put a bullet in your head.
Where can I turn, but back to you.
My silent friend. Meek. Mild. Flowing Blue.
Heavy heart and mind in tail,
can rest with peace, in your arms, soft and pale.
So many first, and me behind.
Will travel low, only you to find.
Your eyes a piercing empty laugh,
That echoes far, bring souls to half.
Oh, what have you become?
Your tears a gentle strum.
Your fears a shot of rum.
Your heart.
Your mind.
Your soul apart.
Nothing. Nothing remains from there it starts.
Here he lies.
Here he will ascend to eyes.
That dance and brush and burst with hope.
Hope.
A simple word.
For simple hearts.
Entwined in fear, and pain and marks.
Marks of Black.
Marks of Gold.
Marks that hack.
Marks that hold.
Sleeping sinners whisper here.
They pull and prod and clutch you near.
With simple touch, no fear to blame.
The life I knew can’t feel the same.
And though its come to pass and fade,
The jester’s gambit stoned and laid.
They cannot see the genius made.
From minds greater, swifter, soaring above the sky.
They see the boy, the man, but what of I?
With you, my hands, I write of Love.
Not stars or streams of pink above.
So you, who comes, and leaves with haste,
There is no blink or breath to waste.
Unless you come.
At last.
At first.
Not Fast.
With thirst.
For fear it takes a heavy toll.
The soft joy it stole.
To form a husk, an empty wretch.
The hearts of those its minions fetch.
and gather seeds to plant the hole.
Why then.
I ask of all.
Do you remain.
Without me here.
The pain has come.
And light was forgotten.
The emptiness, rotten.
But home to some.
There palms sear.
To dead refrain.
Simple small,
Puny men.
Here, to me.
I call at last.
No price, no fee.
No evil past.
Can stop the fire.
Sweet fearful ire.
These tails inspire.
To take, to feel, to hope, to reel.
In life, in love, in faith above.
The hearts of graceful, silent doves.
Make way.
Make peace.
Make sure release.
To stop, to end.
To shield, to fend.
My growing, flowing, butterfly. Dancing limp, in crimson skies.
