Everything I feel, whenever I kneel.
To my feet, to taste the warm concrete I so often call home.
Is despair.
It's always my fault, though never is it yours, the faith you feel, could not be real.
This cannot be trusted.
My heart and soul are far to important for me to know that whatever your ticking heart desires is what I work to carry out.
For me to be a slave to the pulsating brain that yours, is far too much for me to bear.
Everything I hear, is your voice.
Screaming out through the light, like some dark child of the night,
you break through my emotions, with terrible might.
You say you love me, that my touch is golden,
But your heart is molten, like some terrible flow of hate and injustice that I cannot begin describe.
You, like an abusing mother, stick to my side.
The love you feel is fake, just another illusion I once believed in.
Your words, like our relationship that I fought hard to preserve,
May merely reserve,
our spot in hell.
And though I certainly know, that through the stained glass window that sits near our bed, is a world, far worse than ours.
I do know that it's strict reality could not lie.
It's willingness to throw me by the throat and twist me into some strange errie depression, would be refreshing.
Unlike your ticking heart, and lying consciousness.
Which fool me into happiness.
This, my love, cannot be trusted.
Author notes
Thomas Abernathy, option 6.
A contest entry
- FEAST YOUR STARVED EYES UPON THIS by Asabouros..
1000 points, ended October 29, 2008, 10 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I have only one criticism: Why is everything spaced out so much???? It's an annoying distraction on what's otherwise a great write. Your imagery and metaphor is brilliant, but it could be organized a little better I think. (Stanzas are your friend.) Leaving some lines alone for emphasis is ok, but the rest of them just look sad and lonely out there and weakens the way this is read. You don't have to change it, but I personally think it would make it a lot better. Best of luck!
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Whoa, Sonny, lovin' this! I adore how you ended it, and all those lines leading up to it! *wiggles around, dancing* luuuuuuuuuuve it. xD Buuuuuuut, again with your bad grammar! "your" IS EVIL 'You're' IS GOD. ACCEPT IT.
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