proof that some things never change

Dissecting my raging thoughts.....
Painfully separating memory from fantasy.
The line between them blurs.

Legs tangled in soggy shuffled sheets.
Delicate whispers....Nerves Quiver.
Remembering peaceful slumbers.

Yelling...Screaming...Fighting...Crying

Eyes red with my heart's despair.
Wiping away tears, cheeks and face raw.
My heart just won't beat for another.
Jaded...Vexed....A heavy slug to my jaw.

No lost love locks me away.....
Renders me helpless.

Fault is that all of my own.....
the fact that I'm alone.

keep reading?

Stuck in between the lines of my own story
A dedicated reader has lost interest in what's next.

.....Skipping ahead skimming the pages looking for better times?
Maybe the recent plot twist and shift in characters was too much for the reader.
This twist, unexpected, yet familiar. 
A new character lurks in dark corners only to be discovered when the light is just right.

Patience is a requirement now, for the light takes a while to brighten enough to see.

WANTED:  MUSE.  Must be imaginative and willing to assist in rejunvenating and saving a soul so they may rise above the emptiness and continue their story.

Can one tell a story if no one is listening? And if no one is listning is a story still a story?.......or just a sequence of lost thoughts?  

I live on writer's block and no one can concentrate here.  

Too many distractions....Loud noises and silence

anonymous

splintered and scarred
healed and rejuvenated
untouched and undiscovered
like ruins of an ocean city
anonymous to most
a single flame flickering
in the harsh wind
...just trying to stay lit

unlike them...different
not aspiring to fill status quo
outsides blend like a chameleon
insides rare and unexplored
just waiting to be lifted, woken up
to feel butterflies take flight
...like autumn birds

save me from this captive silence
release my self bound shackles
unlock the doors to my prison

porte rouge

sunday evenings spent silently
entranced in shamanistic ritual
connecting me beyond this depth
mediating deepest spirits of soul
perpetuating a small sacred space
bearing all to blank empty pages
fragmented pieces, naked thoughts
scrawled out upon enticing lines
inking emotions; 
brown sacred tablet
four apostles preaching 
inner spirits venerated 
prayer in music theory
rhythm remains my deity

sleepless on the seacoast

my bed is small but vast

i lay here alone under stars

the heavens rise above me

no sleep...i ponder my scars

the bed...hard, the pillow...flat

i twist the covers, toss and turn

my soul has cuts i just can't heal

lying in cold sweat, my body burns

flashes of memories...

fingers tracing my bellybutton

my back arches, i gasp for air

giggles burst as lips kiss my neck

tangled fingers, a firm tug on hair

sandman does not deliver me sleep

staring at green numbers telling time

oh, bless me with sweet dreams please!

induce deep slumber to save my mind

2 a.m. departure

every time i lay next to another

lights off, room dark

hands roaming one another

i twitch

i shiver

when will i feel safe, comfortable...

know that i can close my eyes 

drift into dreams 

and not awake to mornings

draped in nightmares

i always leave...

middle of the night

return to my lonely sheets

i fear the sunrise will expose me

vague thievery

tired of these written words

bored of their silent expression

craving real passion, spoken word

touch i can feel on my aching skin

instead of that inked out in pen

i have been kidnapped

the real me is locked away

a different me roams this earth

inside i am screaming...

at those with no tolerance

at those who create disaster

at those who suck me dry

only to disappear...

...when i need replenishing 

chunks keep rising

aimless

a heatseeker

finding only cold

wandering

rain soaked

searching for?

waiting for?

i am the living dead

loveless nights

my only friends

empty and gagging 

some writing murders

so much in common

blind evil eye

messiah return

signaling our end

from shrouds that cover

beautiful faces

to those that 

adorn coffins

you take all those with belief

blind in their love for you

arguing over technicalities

a difference in blood 

so thick the line drawn

over which, only bombs fly

humans use tanks as shields 

like blinders on a horse

narrowing their world view

holding hostage those who

love you

tolerance is a word

with a forgotten meaning...

ethereal universe

no theory will ever be grand enough

to describe your phenomenal existence

great scientists and theologians 

have attempted the great task

of discovering you...

shrouded in mystery

soil against our feet

so profound it deserves explanation

overwhelming,  breathtaking

captivating and forever unexplained

some retreat within your solace

while others stake a violent claim

treasured prophets 

trotted paths, gathered beliefs

hidden secrets deep within

never to be discovered

tick tock

scared and alone

time is my nemesis

don't suppose i'll ever

get the hang of this

a warm tear gently slips

down my burning cheek

life, profound and absurd.

 an explanation without words

emptiness is now the blood

coursing through my veins

a red hot fire with no flame

annuals die...perennials hide

soft pads of my fingertips tracing the muscles of your back

my palms wish to melt away your pain with their warmth

remind you of the glorious sunshine

relish in the power of chemistry

hoping intensity will rejuvenate 

us, the cynics and non believers

many flowers have blossomed for you

but forever your seed drifts

hovering through the whipping winds

only for your seed to fall 

once again...against the same earth

different place...

...same dirt

this annual shall fade like the rest

this seed has planted his heart 

...on different soil

he just ventured out to see 

...if the grass was greener

open up wide

warm up, speak up

wear your thoughts

share them, let them

cloak you like a blanket

a quilt patched together

telling a simple story

each thread a conversation

woven into your being

press room muse

brown welcome mat

no welcome message

soggy with melted snow

crusty white with salt

a wooden room of jazz

strangers in corners

dimly lit smiles

each time the door opens

the air freezes my flesh

a momentary reminder

i am still breathing

indifference

dizzy voices like thunder

silent but strong

rolling in waves of excitement

here i sit in the corner

alone in a room 

full of groups

a beer and a lemon

some friends

i am happy to ignore

5-26-09