Wednesday, January 12, 2011
images of yesterday's tomorrow
can this wretched feeling be denounced?...it crawls over me like a dream,seeking out the essence of my being.my chest heaves,pulse quikens and the core of what i desire turns sour.no longer are the vibrant colors of amore present...they slink away with their tails tucked.my soul is turned cold and blackened with a spice that leaves a stain~that no one can remove.i beg of it to release me for i grow weary of the constant struggle...when?is there a given time for the foul thing which keeps me alive!?does it beat only to draw attention to the pit which i inhabit?...strength wanes and turns against my better judgement.my twin looks upon the gnarled remains of what i try to create and laughs.the garden of my mind lies cluttered with the dead flowers of ancient hope...if there is a key,a remedy for this merry-go-round of deception...i pray for its deliverance to me.i grow tired and sullen...all i desire is honesty and truth.yet that seems to be the formula for my demise...has my father turned a deaf ear to my cries of pain~or have i come to ignore the mind which tells me no?
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great flow and internal rhythm to this piece and you end tight...i like it. nice one shot...
ReplyDeletevery intense words and tight write...the garden of my mind lies cluttered with the dead flowers of ancient hope... is my fav line i guess..
ReplyDeleteHas a searching, questioning flow. "the garden of my mind lies cluttered with the dead flowers of ancient hope" Great line. Smooth flow.
ReplyDelete