#12
looking up, irises raze the brick wall
looking for a sign, hope swells
the same. empty brick walls
break the curve of my ever dying bubble
romeo and juliet, such that it was not
as the scene stands cold
devoid of character.
a reflection of the mirrow
neverending.
wonder and awe at the lightness of ignorance
something new, echoes of laughter
oddness, strangeness, directness
piercing looks, several.
across the expanse of consumed calories
a touch, that grab of hand
the breaking of the bubble
a human touch electrified by sobriety
of the nectar of warmth afforded
in that history of so long ago.
everything a hermit of the shell
locked with chains, straining to open
blur the picture, lose focus
photoshop blemishes on the mind
feeling falsely freed of forlorn
a light airiness, gently paints
a likeness almost reality, temporary
what does one call temporary existance?
real at all, at one time, or never at all?
inner darkness forced into a corner
emotions rage when stimulated
from the stillness of the pond
movement, ripples, waves, storms
unbiddenly, unwanted, unheeded
the mind snaps to focus, lightning
bust of infrared pain shines
invisibly, disdainfully on the soul
a single light illuminates the room
the back is turned, the eyelids close
its shadows cloak and hide
the parasite that consumes from within.