Raise this goblet
crystal shards of self deception,
your holy grail
another evening,
another night of spilling red
on white linen;
pregnant salute of mercy,
lips smiling,
porcelain eyes do not cry;
death sheds no more tears
and you can hide in this stale fog
of exhaled nicotin and every starlet perfume.
Not that anyone would notice anyway,
crucified sacrificial lamb; regurgitating,
vows and promises
glitter and glamour;
shine this needle just one more time
and rise, hide in these cold folds of emaciation;
life is a four letter word,
and death comes easier
on just another night
of hollow promises
and imitation dolls on a shelf
of long ago splintered wood


You picked up and were able to isolate quite a bit out of this write...note: I really am more of the "sunny disposition" as you mention, and "dark" is merely a small percentage of my scribblings. But I guess now and then even the "sunniest or most cheerful" do step there. However I can not do it unless provided with a visual first. Thank you again,


Just wondering what that makes me, as I am the one who wrote it. And I agree with "the passion of Christ". Extremely intense with images that might leave a young audience with feelings and visuals to haunt them,
13 old applause
