Flow

I didn't know how thick the tow,
would wash and consume in heavy flow.
Falling down deep in silent sound,
The quiet overtakes and I drown.
Rushing in, sweet bitter sin,
What happened to who I was within?
All goes dark, that black ironic Mark,
Red fades to gray then to nothings stark.
Black is new, this darkened hue,
But blissful in a twisted view.

Fading

07/16/2006

A little more each day,

Slowly withering into nothingness,

Buried further into the shadows

Of that lost side of my brain.

Darker shades of gray,

With it's monochrome emptiness,

Screaming red echoes

To be released from the vein.

Silent is the drop

That shakes all existence,

And sharp the bite,

That took the last breath,

And finally it stops

With no more resistance,

To fade into night

And to death.

Destiny

Why do I feel the need to bleed? Scattered so carelessly across mussed parchment as if to mean anything remotely understandable or worth the effort to deserve a second glance yet alone worthy of the minutes it would take to discern any meaning of the mad mumbling of a mad immortal who's lost purpose and destination.
I find myself standing quietly still amongst an ever moving world full of people, scurrying this way and that to place that do not matter. Pass me by and I can't help but smirk at the insanity of their daily mad dashes to do nothing but the same thing they did yesterday and will do everyday until life has slowly drained them to nothing.
It is an inevitable end that each holds. We all have an end, even us immortals who pretend within ourselves as if we've magically avoided finding ourselves in dust in the end,,, yet it somehow finds us at some point or the other. Some in honored and blessed death and some in a sad attempt to deny our demise.
I feel it lurking in the corners and around doorways watching me as if it lays in wait for to take me to that place of endless falling. Quietly taking my life a little more each day, leaving me with less and less time to reach my destination.
And what of love? Love in it's putrid tormenting chaos. To make it from that end to this, only to brush against a ghostly omnipresent reminder of it's absence. Hanging there in a distance mockingly disguised as such lovely rapture,,, how I hate this ever lingering desire to possess its curse.

Random Idiotic Ramblings of a Lost Weekend

12/6/2005

The voice of knowledge, a practical guide to inner peace, Yet is there such a thing?
Tumbling over and about in my brain with the other bumbling irrationalities that my fertile membrane gives birth to.
She walks in darkness, and he is falling, and all I want is to suck it up.
Hands gentle upon mine as we journey together, but are we together?
The lights of the preconceived adventure gives me hope, yet my faith has fallen.
"I am not enough", still slapped in the face with that reality of inadequacy. Did I spell that right? Inadequacy? Oh well, what the hell does it matter?
Deck the halls and fa la la, and hope that death will find them all, in all their bleeding smiling pretending, and hope that deep wound soon starts mending.
I spent it all out onto the floor and watched it slither to the door, curl away as quick as born, and yet for it I have not mourned.
Lover's bleed and wish to sleep, yet search for it in another's keep, away from the one they hold so dear to set them free from nothing real.
Pushed away and pushed away, conceiving what I did that day, why push away that which you wish, and pretend it all the better fit?
Does this make sense? I hope not so, because I do not wish to know. And yes, the blood repeats itself, but only from my former self.
Cut it deep and smell the scent, and wonder how the hell it went, forgot, away, in some dismay, to sing that lullaby for the day.
I searched the books and found not one, that read the story I had done, the smell of ink and binding thread, almost cool as if it dead.
But there I lay in the veiled chamber bed, perceived in love and getting head. Then spit the fluid of my lust upon the sheets in a heated thrust.
And slept again at last in peace, to wake in morbid saddened grief.
How is it that I come so far, to fall upon this broken jar, and cut my throat with the thick glass, then bleed to death in all this trash?
And I end it here...

Lost in Insomnia

And here it is again I find, it's 3 am and the clock keeps time.
Tock and tick in crunching clicks, the metal gears, screech on bleeding ears.
Rumble through the house of the night where the shadow falls in silent quiet.
Feel the cold and hold the heft, and watch the fading of what's left.
I feel my flesh begin to fall away, with every silent sweet display.
Take what you will, and leave the rest, for life is just a morbid mess.
It was never mine to live you see, yet sustenance for others misery.
With every sway, I watch it slip away, and stare into nothingness, as if I had a day.
And what of love, that breath of life, the only time I felt alive.
It is as well, lost in hell, forgotten someplace between a place I fell.
But OH how I pray for longing sleep to find me in deathly peace,
For once dreams found me so easily, now turn to dust and insanity.
Looking out at my surrounding full of grays and shadows,,,
That sickening every present awareness that in this world tonight, there is nothing red at all.

Why

Pull me down again into the soft candlelit coffin of my miserable ecstasy. There to lie in written pen with all the blood spilled from deep within. Carrying away in that pitch black slumber to all the places my mind which find me with you over and over,,, in fallen leaves and radiant sunlight that I shall never see again, less my heart fall even further into nothingness with you. Watch it trickle black... washed away with the autumn rain that beckons me to remember...  And how you do so love the miserably darkened hollow shell you've created of my once were's... and that is why you do it.

Feel The Feel

November 8, 2005

"Can I cut you?" Is what I said, 
Then heard the echo of the dead.
Memory invades this dark intent,
And a brief moment of pure content.
Sends me back away from pain,
To begin the journey once again.
I spread my legs to touch the place,
That your soft lips so loved to taste.
Warm and wet as my ache did pound,
To feel that feel of going down,
Falling deep, lost in the dark,
I imagine each beat of that little heart.
Pound away with each tongue tease,
Thrusting with that yearning need.
In and out and back once more,
To be all that you knew was yours.
Spreading wide to take you in,
And feel the feel upon my skin,
Escaping out and seep away,
And know I will now so decay.
Falling deeper, into the ground,
And suddenly there is no sound.
Full of feel, I long release,
Pray this ache somehow does cease.
Yet in darkness pain much real,
I long to feel that painful feel.

The Fall

How to stop,
That sudden drop,
Hanging over the dark green clover...
I knew it wouldn't last.
And what of red??
That shade of dead,
That covered me when red I bled...
And it too fell to past.
And so down,,,
In silent sound,
Falling that fall I fall so profound,
I shall fall happily.
Deeply it seems,,,
I'm all silent screams,
Into the blackest of blind dreams,,,
To die quietly.

The Bitter Lovers

The dawn brought death,
The night did fly,
And as I lie and cry for you to die,
I saw you dead.
Your pretty head,
This poem, I read,
And so you said,
"Bury me deep into the night"
In which I did with much delight,
Into the dark and cold so quiet.
Then covered you, I, in rich soil,
So sooner would your body spoil.
Thus began, your corpse to rot,
And feed the earth, from with your plot,
To spring a rose bush from the ground,
To cover me and pull me down,
Beneath the earth to your death bed,
To lie beside your pretty head.
I held you to my bosom near,
And read this poem for you to hear.
Upon your love, I once more cried,
To join my Love... and so I died.

Dead Metaphor

November 17 2005

An inescapable mental torment as the mussitation of that dead metaphor whispers that morbid whisper incessantly...
"You're Heart is Broken..."
And oh how I felt the blow that bellowed the echo of that heart shattering thud throughout my entire body,,, that deep, almost buried sound that shook me from my seat and made me stand to inspect the security of my surroundings.
I knew something wasn't right, yet I tried to convince myself it was nothing. Walking away in denial, while in my chest, that distinct fracture slowly begins to cobweb out as ice covering a puddle splits outward when stepped upon.
Each crack quietly giving birth to another crack, and another, then another, until my heart is covered completely with it's fragility.
Barely pieced together, each blood pulsing pump shakes the surface pieces releasing bits and crumbs into nothingness,,, and I pretend that everything is normal.
But it is not normal...
I should rip the tainted seed from it's shell and bury it amongst the dead,,, without life, without feeling, without .... love...
Alas, how it angers me that I would allow this personal demolition of my emotional body, though I know, demolition is the only resolution to the decay of this dead structure.
Perhaps I enjoy the condemnation... perhaps, every moment spent in rot contends me? 
Why else would I deny each piece that falls away, was ever there to begin with? Why else would I deceive myself so that I could continue the suffering?
... why do I allow myself to suffer?

Red Rush

Ahhhhhh, there you are again. I suppose you thought it clever to sink so quietly into built in sullen shadows collectively arranged within the corridors of my mind, created intently to be hidden from others but myself and my Me.
Heavy, I feel the sway, as if a tilt in the tide, sweeping through my knowing and rushing into reality. That deep red rush of all that makes that gray decay alive again. Alive, yes breathing, but always the cold quiet silence, still wrapped in eloquent blossoms of that tender vine that ever reaches its length tight around me. Around and around, twine to skin, extending and growing into crevices that even I am not aware.
Awake again, to release that so sweet dark decadence, to pulsate in tormenting awareness of savage inherent compulsion to feed... and search I in these nights, for prey.

Copyright©2013Angela Vaden all rights reserved

Secret Kiss

November 16 2005

Oh, you, wretched object of my obsession.
I curse the day, I with thee, became enchanted...
This spinning spell consumes, deludes, and confuses.
Sit in vigilant observance,
To the decay of my perseverance.
Not the one I once was, but am the one I have become.
I have doomed myself to eternal torment,
And smile in the pleasure of it all.
The secret kiss I have for thee awaits the secret place.
Insanity compels the empty skull to think,
All the while aware of my crazed possession.
That ancient drum beats steadily between my legs,
In the darkness of this madness.
Slippery hands, slippery lips, covered in that secret kiss...
I lie awake in dreams of thee,
Pushing my mind further into insanity..

RedOnGray

October 30 2005

I am happy to be here with you. Here in this place where I am all alone. Poisoning my mind, you, peculiar memory that seems to linger as a disease that has no cure. I cut my wrists today, just to see the color red and taste the bittersweet essence of life upon my tongue. A beautiful dark shade against all of this gray and nothingness. Sitting there watching the splatters on the ground create a beautiful work of art. At first in vibrant glossy color and then eventually drying to dark almost black in this darkness as I lingered there watching, unable to move my eyes from it. I reached out to feel it upon my fingertips as if to prove to myself it does actually exist. I felt the crust of it's dryness and in saddness I withdrew my touch.

Need

October 28, 2005

I felt that warm invitation upon my skin. That soft question piercing the follicles, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, sending a shiver across my back. My nipples harden beneath my blouse and I feel my chest rise insinuating that need to be touched. Is it such an unorthodox thing to touch myself I wonder. But I don't care for the answer. In this moment the only thing that interests me is the bulging nodule protruding the crevaces of my womanhood. It aches that deep dark ache that pulsates the stream of silky smooth intoxication, calling for release from the silent sound of that beating drum of extacy. Writhing beneath the sheets, seeking an escape from the inevitable nightly endeavor to be disburdened.... I remember you.

Context

People take things out of context sometimes when that is all you see, it's hard to judge the big picture.
I am a very open minded person. I do love freely and I do accept people easily and I do not judge. I've grown over the years and learned that people change and that you can't expect people to stay the same or else they cannot grow. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I am very opinionated yet very guarded in many aspects. I speak before thinking, I stick my foot in my mouth a lot. I sometimes say things that come out wrong and seem offensive but I would be the last person to want to purposely offend someone ever. I come off flirty when I'm trying to establish communication positively because I'm worried about being perceived wrongly, thus I am still perceived wrongly anyway. I'm confident on a lot of levels and forget that others are not and sometimes forget that content can be offensive to those who have different views and forget that just because something is appropriate to me, may not be to others. Yet I'm also insecure and find it hard to reveal myself emotionally and physically until I trust you and feel safe enough to feel secure with you. I stumble, I'm unorganized, I have horrible people skills and sometimes come off as rude even though I'm not at all, I just have a hard time getting my words out in the way they are supposed to be, I'm bad about being short and to the point when I'm in a hurry but I'm not trying to be short or mean it's just the situation and is interpreted as rudeness. I sometimes avoid situations rather than deal with them,,, but when I am ready to deal with them I can resolve any problem. I do not like feeling like I CAN'T do something, I will over reach and move mountains just to prove that I CAN... yet I feel like I cannot do anything. I have a hard time connecting but when I do connect with you, regardless of male or female, it's a deep connection that I feel no matter how far away, what paths are chosen or if I see you everyday or never again. Almost anyone who knows or meets me can see these traits very easily.
However, when it comes to deep feelings that are difficult to share with others, only a few know the real me, what I hide, what guides my creativity and makes me feel like I must always do better, what tortures me, inspires me, scares me, haunts me and what it's all about. The ones that do, understand and accept that the torment is just part of my character. But when the inspiration behind everything that has made me, ME and inspires all that I am, all that I long for and all that obsesses that desire in me to create and be "me" is always the one person that doubts it all... It kind of puts it into perspective why its such a tormenting fall that I continue to suffer and seems will for always since it seems like I've been falling for forever. I could care less what opinions people form about me, but it's everything to me what the one person who seems to not get me thinks about me.
I'd give anything if there were a way for me to open up my head and let you see everything inside it and not be scared of what you would have to say about it. At some point, you are going to have to accept me unconditionally with all my flaws, without doubt and with understanding, if you are ever going to be able to feel my love for you and it be real. Or else, it's still just the way you want me to be and not who I really am and there is no way I can be anything other than what I am. I will always disappoint you if you think I'm someone I'm not. I will always disappoint you if I try to be something I'm not. I will always disappoint you if you think I'm perfect. I will disappoint you sometimes if you realize I'm human, I'm me, but I love you and I am not going anywhere and I will always belong to you.

Bloody Release

I didn't want to bring you here, deep into that dark epiphany of my psychosis, tangled in the chaos of my reasoning, but here you are, and I have yet to discover the intention of your presence here. I feel the wires of my sanity tightly weaving around my nakedness, housing that most sensitive of sensual spots. Tighter and tighter the wire becomes, cutting into my flesh, releasing the blood that begs even more for your torture. And all that fills my mind is the thought of "more". So here I hang in nothingness, tightly suspended within myself, knowing that I would have it no other way...Silently begging for you to relieve me. Suddenly, I feel that breath taking release as the blood covered metal spreads, revealing that dark place that I've reluctantly hid from you. And you are now a part of me. Soft yet hard, as your rhythm rushes my senses, a rhythm that sends me my death,,, death only better... And I feel that last bit of me that was real fade away. And it is forgotten... Thrust upon thrust, steadily dancing in my suspension, I feel very much connected to your darkness. Finally as I feel every molecule of your existence tighten in that passionate release, filling me with your vitality,,, I am reborn. And I know now why I loved you.
Copyright©Angela Vaden all rights Reserved

Felt

Cold colors of browns and shades of gray, again with their unexpected and unannounced inconvenient fall on feathered whispers of dark descent. Oh how regretful to see you again, standing so boldly, as if to mock me with ill intent of your intentions to simply appear and leave again.
And yet you linger... in miserable fumbling in realization that your quest to quickly cover my decay in solemn silence has lost it's dramatic overtones, as the sudden scents of metallic melancholy capture your senses yet again and drag you in to dark red oblivion to rest in silence and dark company along with me, my sweet delicious love... Prey is the sweetest of all that is felt whilst upon preying. And I need you more now than ever... Deep, dark and rich with life to fill me again to last through this winter. Won't you stay my sweet? Of course you will.

Unread

Slowly drift I, above the gray, that dense fog of misunderstanding that shelters me from reality, quietly floats beneath my perception and suddenly, I am awake again. Back into that terrible place where all is ,,, real. And again,,, I feel.
Finding myself contently sitting in the soft green grass holding the writing that I still await the ending of, watching the daisies sway back and forth in the gently cool breeze, I am so happy to see my overcast sky and hope for rain to come again.
Running my fingers across the crisp parchment pages of the book, I keep reading but find no words... yet I am so intently interested in the story for some mad reason of my reasoning.
I close the tattered tome, tie it's torn velvet ribbons in a soft bow and lay it gently in the grass and try to put my mind upon other things... "a silly thing to be unread" I think to myself, then lay back and close my eyes and hope for the return of gray and oblivion to find me sleep again. Back into that peaceful slumber of bleeding regret and that is lost within it's depths.
Drifting,,, my mind goes into that deep dark place that only you can seem to find me inside of. That sudden beat finds me again and I am consumed with visions of blood and flesh on flesh. Deeper down into the silent sound of all that red throbbing pleasure filling up inside me and that pulsating longing for the release only you can tear from me.
Then suddenly the heat of sinking teeth rushes through my entirety shuddering my awareness and my eyes spring open in both fear and dark satisfaction. I bring my hand to feel the silky wet red epiphany only to find it was all another lost dream.
My eyes focus as small wet drops roll across my face and I come to see,,, it has began to rain at last. I turn to gather my unread binding and tuck it safely beneath my skirt and wait for the moment when the rain will fall heavy and I will can at last rest in it's gray melody.

Inside

Curling round and round in my depths, making me cringe and wither up into a ball on a small sofa in a dark corner of a quite room in which I am doomed to spend my quiet eternity all alone...
I hear rustling of paper and raise my head to see that the source of my intrusion is nothing more than another figment of my imagination.
Quietly still on the dirty wood floor I see only a pre-packed bag who's destination has found itself no further than the corner it was packed in.
Nothing here, nothing there,,, open the door if I could find the desire to put my feet on the floor and actually take the steps,,, find the energy to put my hand out to turn the door handle... for what? To look outside of into a world full of everything I want to see, to do , to smell, to touch, to fall into and to... love... yet only to never be able to step outside.
Why torture myself intentionally that way?
Lying here on the musty smell of forgotten forgots, I smell the smell of red everytime my mind starts to wander about the wondering again and again... I close the magick window in my mind to keep myself from remembering memories that were never there... the red, the dark so beautiful liquid red, burns my soul and is raging violently inside my quiet skin to explode and give me... release.... that passionate angry untamed screaming loss of all control is now quietly lying as lost and desolate in this dark four walled prison as the body that once allowed it's release.
The packed bag sitting there mocking me in the reminding tone of how I had the chance then, yesterday and today to take that first step of that magnificent journey I have already taken once before and ever since been lost.

Another Dead Angel

It seems like forever, trapped inside this horrid misplaced eternity. Steadily shrinking into that dark hole of mediocrocy, I already know I'm nothing special, nothing to be remembered.

"Here Lies Another Dead Angel"

Something generalized to save from the embarrassment of leaving an unmarked rock in the midst of memorable markers. Listening to the footsteps trudge across the dampened grass above as they scurry to continue on with the same inconceivably predestined meeting with eternity that I have experienced.
What was I, that I deserved such an insignificant existence? Why was I, if it mattered to no one but myself? Struggling to live up to that organized superficial phasod, that someone with such an average unmistakably futile attempt at beauty, could never live up to.
It's almost like being a weed in a rose garden, eventually the gardener will find you and pluck you out so that you don't take away from the beauty of the landscape, when all you wanted was to perhaps mask the fact that you're just a weed by merely coexisting with even the scent of beauty. And in all the world of seemingly understanding sympathizers, with their tales of lonesome wanderings, who seem to share the same feelings of misplacement and abandon... I am still alone. And so are they.
Which also brings to mind the questions that turns in my brain like a spinning wheel, turning over and over, yet spinning out nothing but the same thread in a constant search for the end,,, who am I? And why am I here if I mean nothing to anyone but myself? There's supposed to be more,,,
... isn't there? ..

Blood Red

And oh how I fight this need to bleed... to take that which in secret keeps, to take and bleed on parchment sheets with crimson ink of misspelled reads. To spill it all, and watch it reach and drip and spread on blood red sheets.
How comely is the fairest skin that breaks with decadent blood red sin, and fill my every aching whim which makes a my breathless breast fill wind. And breathe it in at last it seems, that scent of life and death that leans, to lean and sway in either way, to take you in or make you prey.
Awake again, with that metallic taste that suddenly alive does make, the deadest dead among the grave and spread those wings, which to thee take.
Spread and fly I off to fall, in lovers arms, in hollow walls, and spill that blood red love to thee, to take it in and be with me. Take it in and one we are, with silent hidden unmarked scars.

Imagine the Rain

Watching the clouds move in,
A feeling of peacefullness sweeps over me.
I feel the breeze on my face,
and I hear the wind
As it's breath hits the trees dancing
Dreamily with the leaves.
Slowly and softly at first
With it's whispers of a coming promise.
I hear the tapping as a light and misty rain
Begins it's melody on the ground.
I smell it...
I hear it...
I close my eyes and suddenly a thunderous echo of applause rushes my senses taking my breath away.
I feel the heavy beating upon my skin.
And I stand there captivated
By the sensation of what started out
A subtle insinuation of an idea
Is now very much an aggressive overtaking.
Covering the earth with its magic,
Filling the air with it's presence,
Removing the acknowledgment of any other sensation,
Chasing away any form of awareness...
I am lost,,,
But I am found...
Lost to everything that was before this possession,
But found completely and nutured by an unkown comforter.
I feel myself forgetting everything...
All that is real to me in this moment is the steady drums of the rainfall, the cool wet breeze against my skin, the clean sensation of the water washing over me, and the breath of enchantment.
I hear the thunder rolling becoming louder shaking every particle of my being, weakening my knees,,, I almost fall from the powerful voice taking control of my mind.
And then it hits me...
A lightening strike numbing my body and awakening places inside me that I never knew existed arousing an awareness that has never been known to me.
I feel it...
Coursing inside me,,,
Filling me with a power nonexistent to mortal touches or even concieved by touch.
A feeling that can only be felt from the inside of the very depths of the unreachable.
I see you...
Then suddenly almost as if waking from a dream,
I am shaken by the quickened stop which is as unexpected as the start.
I hear the echo fading into nowhere that I can follow,
Disipating, seemingly further away.
I reach out but there is nothing to grasp,
I open my eyes and watch it fade away
All the while wondering why I can't hold something that can hold me so intently...
Finally with saddened eyes I reallize it's gone...
Looking around me the stabbing gut wrench snaps me back into the real world..
What left behind in the mud and the gloom of nothingness..
A puddle, muddy ground, slippery grass, and a longing to possess something that is unpossessable.

Wait

Fairly I say I fell away, somewhere between that first and last taste of dark euphoria.

Winding round and round my mind in that twisted indulgent fantasy of falling forever... down further and further I allow the spinning hole to swallow me up into hopefull madness that accidentally buries me somewhere far beneath the grave of the swain to lie in silent wait. Silent wait and silent sleep consumed within the chaos of a world of listful dolor. Lie I here beneath the quiet slumber and still wait... and wonder my heart of solitified desolation,,, for what for if for when and why... .... wait...

Try

Venture, Travel, Journey and Seek,,, To find that place my heart can beat.
Pumping full of all that swells and fills the chambers that does well..
Well with life and love and sweet, sweet passion for that which I seek.
Can it be an easy find, to fill it full and make it mine?
I guess I'll try again, it seems, as all I've done with Silent Screams,
Is push and pull and try to find that somehow breaking fall of mine.
But fall I do,,, and fall I must,,,  and pick myself back up from dust.
For it's the fall that makes me aware that there surely is much more out there.
So keep the path and venture not into the darkened shadowed spots
That call me softly in the storms with thundering whispers of that icy warmth.
That freezing rain that chills me down and how I love to feel that sound,
That silent thump that quakes my soul and coddles me into that silent hole.
To bury deep and rot away and feel that oh so sweet decay,
And cover me in the sheltered grave to find that love my heart once made.

Her Inspiration

03/27/2006

Quiet is the drop of my existence into this infinite shade of red.
And how it makes me long for the dark that finds me in my dream.
I hear her calling to me, whispering in that silent scream of death and eternity.
Dreaming in her forever, of what? I am obsessed with knowing the answer.
This answer along with hundreds that trickle across the membranes of my mind.
The life that was but is more so now... as she would put it.
Delicately drawn from the corners of her brain and laid upon the parchment of my understanding...
Yes,,, Obsessed it seems with an existence I long to have, to hold, to understand.
To fall into it and be lost from those who do not know.
Fly between the sheers of her creations, dancing that lifeless dance that breathes all that is living to me.

Drum

That primitive hum echoes the familiarity of my not so lost existence.
And all the while I feel myself swell full in the awareness of myself.
I hear the drum, beating that rythym that begs me to dance...
dum,,, dum,,, dum, feel the hum, as the rain rushes down to meet you.Falling, in a sudden drop, I could not catch my breath so you caught it for me.
Breathing me in, then releasing back to me that which was mine to begin with... a beautiful nonconsenting exchange, and I wished you to do it again.
Yet you do not come into me. In my loss of control I released myself upon you, for you to taste my soul, take me in, and so I am apart of you now.
Slippery kisses, your trembling hands upon me, I sleep... for the first time in what seems like eternity... I sleep.

A Memoir

02/06/2006

 

I read the writing as I opened the book. Thick and heavy as it was and covered with dust, I separated the pages of it's revelation. Smelling of old ink and thick paper, my fingers traced the rough broken bindings of it's cover.
And there it wrote so cleverly as I watched the ink born each word as  it spoke it's thought for me,,, and then read, "For I was without concious love and he could see nothing in me."
Then a blur to hide itself from my reading as if this message was all I was to receive from the tale told in this ancient memoir.
Nothing more and nothing less, beneath the candlelit glow of understanding. I close my eyes and take in the scent of the vision, embracing the moldy smell of many years past in this abandoned place, abandoned yet visited by myself many times of late to receive  it's aged wisdom and find that part of myself that longs to die along with all that has died here so long ago.
Hiding, she is here, waiting for death to take her and write it's memoir of her tragedies in it's full tattered book that lay upon the shaky table.
I close the book with all it's musty odor and make my way back out the creaky screen door, across the wooden planks of the rotting porch, down the withering steps to travel barefoot back across the thick grass that is so cool and plush beneath my step. Through the woods I reluctantly make my departure, knowing that my heart wishes to remain here for just a time... "just a while", I tell myself. I would love to lay here in the grassy heaven for only a while and take in the beauty of it's solitude.
But I know I will return here again soon,,, however it be not soon enough.

Violently Beautiful

Violently beautiful goes the decay set off to the wind and the rain into nothingness. Nothing,,, becoming something, each day as I wake again to yet another silent realization of the certain impediment attached permanently to the chest bone of my chamber. Pray I.... Pray I each and every relentless night for some sign of release or satisfaction that torments me in the west wing of my mind, sealed off... locked tightly with key lost and forgotten. Again the endless burning and aching pulsates beneath my skin and feverishly I fight off the urge to break vein from any who pass or comes within reach. I find myslef temporarily submersed in the sweet scents of a young muse, intoxicated in her deep blue eyes and soft sunshine hair,,, the opposite of me in all accounts and thus I'm drawn even deeper. But soon, I'm again trapped in my meloncholy grave with no use for her and cast her into the abyss of the forsaken as those who took me for the time that I allowed. . . .
. . . . And cry I softly inside myself for that somewhere more that I can never seem to rise and arrive to.

New Years

1/1/2006

It seems that here I am once more,,
At the beginning and the end.
And I gaze upon the glow of past and future.
An odd place to be...
Wouldn't you think?
Yet here I am, and Time is an inescapable pursuer.
Ticking away, or more so slipping away.
As it unravels in front of me, apparitions of a sort of dream.
Dream... why is it that I stay in this sense?
Why can I not escape it?
Knowing it slips and yet I cannot grasp it.
Passing continuously as a stream.
I could place my foot into the water and feel it rush between my toes.
I could stand here and watch it flow on forever.
Floating by, I feel a false sense of safety.
Pretending I am safe from drowning in it
As long as I stay on shore.
Knowing well that I am convincing myself
My lungs are not already filled with water.
As I float downstream with all the others.
Floating away to be deposited into something bigger
Somewhere between here and the end.
As my last end diminishes out of sight,
I feel numb, sick and tired of endings and beginnings.
Waiting for that stop sign at the end of a road
That never ends.
No turn, no passing, no rest areas...
But eventually it will start all over again...
Another beginning...
Torturing circle.