So excotic,exquisite so magnificent is the tree,I
paint,harvest to manifest with-in the void of my imagination.my
ink is her seed,my blacken abyss of creativity is her soil.So
magnanimous,so towering in comparison to the grievous tree,which
grows in your back yard.But can you hold my tree,can you
hermitage under her with in the rain. Your tree
,breathes,my tree simply lingers for eternity in non existence.
Dreams,thoughts,words merely poisons.Bleaching away,eatting away at our umbilical cords,which connects us to our drifting spirits.Those whom have found passion through words,but not through flesh.We bleed out the bad gomers,through ink and not blood.Unaccepting the emptiness,the loneliness with in the verisimilitude of existence.
Creativity is a pond,we all go down to drink.Some washes their hands,some become adicts of it's saccharine taste,and some build rafts seeking drifting salvation from which they can hold.
by to the world a black balloon
"So pretty" exclaimed Emily from beneath the
August night's sky.Lying with in a field of over growned dandy
lions.A blanket of yellow to cover her from night's brisk
touch.The humid August night breeze,acting has the hand of
ragnarok. Taking,leading the expired dandy lions to their
heaven.Like stars that came down to earth,to dance,to kiss
Emily's nose to flutter of into the devoid of night.
The night's sky,god's greatest painting, stars
shimmering like glitter.God's promise that there's more then that
of nothingness that holds Emily's hand.Twinkles,the extirpation
of galaxies beheld in a blink of her eye.The prays of
inamorata,from little girls to this very night sky.
"Do you know what stars are,Emily" whispers her
only friend.He waits for her responds,after a few seconds of
silence ,whispers the answer.In a voice as pure as the first
words by a father to his daughter ,he says."They are tears,tears
of the angels.They weep themselves to sleep every night.Do you
know what they weep for Emily?Do you know why the angels
In the pure innocence of a child,she
answers."because they are sad?"
"Right Emily,they weep because they are sad.Why
are you sad Emily?"
"Because my dad doesn't love me anymore"Emily says
as tears,like water from a broken pitcher,spills down her
face.Losing the struggle against yesterday's memories.Like oil
mixed in water,it always floats to the surface.Words echoed
through a sheet of empty beer bottles.On the hard wooden floor of
her room,day dreams of a life,a story in which the father loves
Her friend glently puts his white gloved hand on
her shoulder.Her eyes light up like a stray cat.Waiting for the
touch to become a grib,affection to become suffering,like it
always does.There's no martyrdom in his touch,only the kindness
her father could never find in this life.
"Are you my guarding angel?" asks
"Clear simple and plain that's just fine that's
just one of my names".His red lips widdens to revival his
perfectly white teeth.He stares into Emily's eyes, harbor in a
sea of soreness,torment,and nights cried to sleep from a broken
heart.His royal blue eyes,shine brighter then sirius,that
glistens through the glass ceiling above their heads.His words
are slow,virtuous,and honest as he brushes away her golden
threaded hair,to gently,warmly breath in her ear ,"couldn't love
you more,you have a beautiful taste."
Distance,the chiming of marble bells hanging from his multicolored harlequin suite.The summer draft,reminds us it still there,listening to his words,astonished and lost with in the kaleidoscopic worn as his suite.Green,red,orange,yellow.purple,pink they twist and shift,jingling marble bells orchestrate his dejected tragedy.Dandy lions sway left to right,little girls in yellow rain coats lost in a emerald sea.Through a painted smile,he says "remember Jitters Emily,remember you're dog".
Much like drowned bodies,the memories wash to the
surface of Emily's reminiscence.
"Daddy,Daddy"calls a charming little girl,not yet tarnished my her fathers malevolences.Her golden pig tails bounce up and down,retained by her mothers only gift,scarlet ribbons.In a yellow dressed badly need of tailoring,dirt stained face badly need of washing.
"Daddy,Daddy"repeats the blanch faced
girl,"where's Jitters,I've called for him all day and he's not
under the porch I looked."
Emily's father (another name seems unimportant)
twiggy,drained of all mirthful by failed ambition,left with the
burden of caretaking this unwanted child.Comfort.cheer,joy humor
patched by amber liquor.Eyes mimiced to black coals,embracement
mirrored to a bed of nails.Speaking slowly,with out guilt "I told
you Emily,God dam it I told you.I didn't want that flea infested
mutt running around here.I told you once I told you a thousand
times.Last week when he tore up my work shoes,I told you Emily
that dog had to go.Didn't I tell
you that Emily?"
With a heavy head of seeping tears,Emily finds that stamina to nood,yes.
"And how you would let me sleep with you at nights.I told you not to ,God dam it Emily look at me God dam it when I speak to you!!I told you not to didn't I!"
Did he ever kiss her goodnight,did he ever stay
beside her,until the unknown drifted into sleep?A little girl can
only be a little girl,but a father can be
flagitious.Not wanting to see the dried
blood under her fathers finger nails,trying not to envisage
frighten claw marks beneath his flannel sleeves.Jitters
tail,stopping like a wind-up toy,his tongue never to kiss her
checks,the only affection she ever knew,the only love ever shown
to her.A father to melancholy to even notice her,a dog taken away
by hands that only bring suffering.
"God dam it"says the voice of self satisfaction,"I told you Emily I fucking told you,you bring these things on yourself girl.God dam it I told you"
(more to come...just posting it piece by piece sorry)