Reads: 177  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Possibly a lot going on in my mind at the time.

Submitted: January 12, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 12, 2008



Knocks against plate glass have conjealed to a system.
Breathe fire to the lair
into a being once called the father
As I float further into a state of black that once multiplied back to canvas colors
Pastel days of a maze
Your mind has put me in limbo
even though I know I deserve much, much more.
This is the 3oth day of marching against a deliverance
A change of pining.
Should I bear the cross of loving the world
the way I wish I could love this face
Cries in the mirror cause she doesn't understand
how she disables her soul
from being on the demand of a forgiveness that cannot convene within this medium
Eventually I will stray from trying to change what was rearranged.
my esteem, my will, the curves and entailments of my demeanor.
You do not have to love me.
And I will not continue to chase with blunt force
I am far from what seems like the just
proposal of the dawn
Weeping willows over slumbered time
cornerstone...brick upon friction
spill the tale full of brine
I have suffered
For I loved not
the smell, the taste
Look upon a day I forgot
Myself and let the hate manifest
unto a tomb. Cocoon of thyself.
Emulation of a maternal castration.
Destruct no more
For the decision I implore
bruised and buried
wrought and carried
built upon to make sore
dwindle by the solar's gaze
Fight back , barebone, frothy colored haze
As I end
in sunlight
As I cry
in clear
Make right my right to live, dwell, die within here
Stone steps of the cathedral beckon me
To retrun to the once brighter, tales from naysayers and liars.
This is the greater path
But I am frozen
In the lava removed twice molten
I am stronger than I thought
Despite the pessimistic cyncism I was taught
Rape never bought my ticket to the streets
Molestation canvased behind tri-colored street lights with drug laden drips...
I am an addict
to the pain
to the abuse
the love disguised as my voluntary misuse
Pulling the rubber against the forearm
I see speck so white followed by the haze.....
And I welcome it
This forfeited hate
Til it all subsides and within the boundaries, I will emaciate.

-Circa August '07

© Copyright 2017 SomberRayne82. All rights reserved.

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by SomberRayne82

Popular Tags