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.
. . . . And cry I softly inside myself for that somewhere more that I can never seem to rise and arrive to.
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