Lifesaver

How do I express the inexpressible? 

Yell for help to an apathetic world?

 The cold, painful stare of a suffering populous. Fellow creatures with similar wounds. Identical knife wounds twisted in our spines during our leisure.  How do we know there is a common understanding? A mutual realization of pain, or sadness, or desperation.  Are we just requesting  life rafts from another sinking ship?

There isnt really salvation from despair. Shovels and heads are our only tools. Escape may be impossible.    

Misery loves company 

Lighter fluid to a flame. 

Is there hope? 

Yes. 

It lies in our soles. 

In out bootstraps. 

In our will power. 

Hope does not lie in our hearts. 

Hope lies to our hearts. 

I have no hope in this apathetic world. 

No hope in myself. 

But I do have a will. 

I have desperation. 

I do not need help from sinking ships.

Life rafts in short supply.   

Who needs life rafts when i have bootstraps? 

Last lights.

No

Might my eyes grow wilder? 

Seeing again the passage of spring transgressions. 

Seeing black dying stars flicker like a flirting eye. 

The sinking winds push against the  wooden door. 

This home inhales a misplaced breathe. 

This home lets out a somber sigh. 

This house is full. 

Of it... 

Laughter

Fear

Contempt

Jealousy 

Hopelessness

Love

Hope

  

Night stabs at the windows to the soul. 

The blind abduction of god. 

Empty sighs grow silent and the last lights turn off. 

The moon knew this house especially well. 

She gave me a blessing before bed. 

And it was good 

Phosphorus

 Seen in the bright bewildering starlight the objective decisions of the night's growing ire become omniscient. 

Inspired.

I bleed like candle wax among such radiance. Sweat like glaciers...

A dream. to reminisce of clouded cities. 

Time lapsed emotions 

The braided significance of thought. 

The phosphorus glow of my time in heaven.. 

Silence gleams now, the dusk has given birth to darkness, and her heir will soon thrive not long after. 

Beware, my sweet Persephone. 

Humble sounds of cricketed laughter mean the end is near. 

Every night the world ends at 4 in the morning. 

Candle wax

I'm in the darkness once again. 

Heed my own advice, I did not. 

Haunted by reality. Entangled in my own words. (Written on a placard in dust.) 

I sought for truth in an idea. 

An insatiable idea with a porcelain mask. 

The same mask that sat in roses, and was worn by royalty, kissed by a ruby lipped enchantress and fitted for a princess upon a lake. 

I did it again. 

My life; a Greek tragedy, a German romance, an Indian folk tale.

Fears grips me. 

I see a road off at a distance and I know where it leads. 

Sword in hands. 

Tooth on nail. 

The bitter sweet taste of defiance. 

I walk away. 

I must push it away as I have done. 

I ought to go back to a simpler time.

The Stone Age

The days where the seeds were hopeless visions and I nothing more than an aspiring fool. 

Crushed.

I see a face.

The youthful face of joy. 

I see the hands of a clock. 

The wooden fences around the farmhouse. 

The theme for tonight's dance is macabre. 

Windows sneer with contempt. 

A sinister, jovial and anxious parade 

I see truth, baked in the sun. 

Crushed beneath the feet of hard working men. I feel afraid of sunlight. 

I can be so easily blinded. I can hear a crunch.

Joy's hands wrap around the apple tree

She doesn't give fruit she takes it. 

My, what a nice day it is outside.