Distorted fingers trying to write simple yet complex words,
All the while images appear clouding the skyline
Fumbling in shadows for enlightenment
He shuffles down corridors of fluorescent ambience
Fists clenched, ready to fight it all
He stares at the cell in his head and tastes the past
Grinding his teeth, spitting through acerbic silence,
He feels his breath choking him
Spasmodic intentions of kindness slip in and out,
As if he can actually breathe it deep inside his lungs
Snarling at a helping hand,
He does not allow hope inside his delusion
Built from the inside out,
A well functioning hallucination
Reality went away a few years back
He now drifts in the oils of discontent
Demons paint pictures by his window and
He colours in the gaps where the angels should be,
But the only colour he has is black
He closes the door to medication,
It sticks in his claw like hands
They make it all too bright
The glare brings him too far away from safety
Drunken apostles are an attachment synthesis
Empathic nursing muses collect samples of his heart,
Lost in fibrillating spasms
Pushing needles into his eyes
Screaming for relief from the phosphorescence,
He colours some more black thoughts to relieve the pain
Mental morphine without the relief
He sobs his decades of silence in a blind rage
Screaming for death and contentment
Daring it to deny him one more time
Muscles flexing to take on the onslaught of the demons,
He scrapes the walls with his fingernails,
Roaring with trapped animal eyes,
Stained and bloodied,
Skin hot with the intention to harm
Searing sounds echo in the shadows
Boxing clever he prowls the dark
Smelling his own blood as it drips to
The cold concrete floor
Perceived serendipity lies only a few miles away
Perhaps there he will be caught before he completely falls
He trips over his own tears as he claws
The X marked on his throat
Sobbing to the floor,
He cannot compare his life to another's
So he bites his nails to the quick,
Looking at his crumpled hands
As he licks the sharp bone
He tries to pray,
His whispered words lift across the ether void,
Seeking sanctuary in white
Soiled linen bandages cover his eyes,
Not quite blindfolded, he can still outline his past
He wonders if his crys will ever be heard as once more
He feels the belt ripping into his aching back
The outside is just too big,
So he crawls into a little box,
Drowns his hate in misunderstood arrogance
Just wanting to be seen
He peels off the gauze of obsession,
How can he be seen, when his reflection
Is charcoal black dripping with the oils of an unwanted love
Midnight nightmares twist through damaged vernacular as
He whispers a soft goodbye and he rests for today
Author notes
Thanks JD for a wonderful collaboration, heheheheh it was fun as usual. lol :) Beware the "hehe's".......
Written September 23rd, 2003
In a list
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Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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I compare this poem with the best I ever read.You first approach it with suspicion.Then it catches your attention.And you begin to wonder about it.In a word,it sticks to your memorry,though it's hard to memorize.I see a craftsmanship into it.You can't drop a word out of it.Though I confess I can't connect the tittle with it. a little enlightment may be needed here.
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Not too long, any shorter wouldn't have done this character justice, and I know a person just like this..hiding all the time, thinking they protect themselves..when in fact they only hurt themself. Sad, but it happens everyday. Awesome collab you two.
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there is a childlike mammoth in that photo... its wickedness bounded by skin that isnt real...
you had me on my knees... my bones exposed as like above...
This was awsome!!!!! -
some kind of poem /story about a monster. i tried to grasp bits and pieces and read it straight. i could see the reference to medication beign something to describe a mental patient. but as a whole i am not grasping your intent.
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this is a really well done poem/story. very discriptive i can see the demons in my minds eye. i can see the window. this trully is good. keep writing.
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The only problem with a long piece like this is that I can’t choose my favorite morbid images or dark metaphors. But of the dozen or so that leaped out at me like boogie men in the dark, the three I found most gruesome were “mental morphine without the relief,” “scraping the walls with his fingernails,” and “he peels off the gauze of obsession.” These could only come from a beautifully twisted mind ~ or in this case, from two such sinister brains. You girls are ghouls after my own heart. A lovely write this was!
and the photo image at the top looked like this creature I dreamed about last night!
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Hehe - loooong. YUM And um, do I spy a spammer, Gill?
This was fun to do. Made me overcome my vodka fog and be a shrink(or a freak, either or) again for a few minutes. I think we did great with capturing this particular diaper on paper.
lol
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excellent
dark stuff. The picture sure made me shutter, and the poem did pretty much the same. I see this as being one long allegory. Very true! Good write. -
I could not get over this stanza:
"He trips over his own tears as he claws
The X marked on his throat
Sobbing to the floor,
He cannot compare his life to another's
So he bites his nails to the quick,
Looking at his crumpled hands
As he licks the sharp bone
He tries to pray,
His whispered words lift across the ether void,
Seeking sanctuary in white"
Your words seem to transcend any imagination ever...Lovely job...Keep it up!
!~YS4e ~!
Scarlett
Edited on Sep 23, 2:15 p.m. because 'Even goddesses make mistakes...'. -
thy darkness is twisted within those words shattered in pain..
yet a crimson smile remains within the blindness...
and oblivion jeers one on!
I did enjoy the darkness!
Keep penning on!
Bill -
It would be kinda crappy to insult your piece with a simple
"nice". This is absolutly amazing...I almost want to hold
this monster...just to be part of it all. I can see myself in
him. Ugly. Misunderstood in this hateful word. I loved this piece.
I hope to see more of it. Thank you for sharing.
-Delia -
Thankyou DD... glad you enjoyed the long read.. Jude and I seem to have hit this on the nail, so to speak.
Thanks Jude my friend for a great afternoon's work :)
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I think it is rare to see language used so elegantly and to such good effect in a poem as 'epic' as this. This is a well formed piece which had my imagination whizzing. There are some fantastic lines here, such as "Mental morphine without the relief"...
Congratulations and best wishes.
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