moments how much longer will I continue to give the address of my heart the house of peace which I have worked so hard to create… away to the unwelcome again that haunted memory tainted with fabrication… it stands too big for this space shattered slashed it follows me like the train of a veil, sharp to my turns, and attempts to elude it it holds no physicality when I try to push it away but instead is blurred like a fevered dream warm, blue and out of focus falling quickly I am consumed and lost to a past life still lived and longed to be touched - captivated by the comparison of the new charters wrapped in the conclusion never wanted- nor understood and still morning the loss of the heroine again so far and so little my heart has traveled again Remember the days of sunned skin, 4th of July boysenberry cobbler, an innocent smile, simple giggles and when running from pool to towel again and again was a full day. Now give me something that smells like sweet Georgia peach cobbler, Sunday afternoon ease, conversations about what you’re reading and the always present, yet subtle, possibility, that anything goes… the gifted flight, short in it’s beauty, suffering from the heaviness that is ushered into your subconscious. too short after its birth – now too heavy to move as your corners begin to peel back, revealing only what you fear it will… you find yourself humming the songs - once whispered about the severity of you the masterpiece and yet you stay to play to run and to hide
if you knew...
Thu, November 9, 2006 - 8:08 AM
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the truth ... the early morning whispers while The Watcher sleeps during the day as a low chant - hypnotic enough to go unnoticed - it doesn't exist but the "in the moment" realization that makes my eyes water... would it matter if you knew... the truth that is my heart, that is my soul... the songs that I sing?
me?
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