Tuesday, November 08, 2005

A Poem

This stage, bleak from fore to aft
Is patterned off the skeletal noise
Of a torrent thunder in my brain
Coaxing long through arteries
Oh bloody cistern of ill-begotten woes.

Beating ivory, casting glass
Shatter coffers; spill ye taint, Decorum
Righteous law? I call your papers
Lining for my blessed coffin
Ask you then my name.

Forsaken! Oh, carnival
Your members scratch me, too
I suck the nectar of your singing
I the vampire am
Drinking life for morbid sake.

Beatific media and houses cold
My skin is taut from hard-water tears
Did you ever scry, Ophelia?
If so, in my mirror-face did you-
See all desperation!

Ringing, softly ringing
Smiling, sweetly smiling
Touching, heavy touching
My love you are in scrap book fire.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Indian Summer

I got rid of some more recent posts lately, as some of you might have noticed. The reasons behind that are several and I don't feel like writing a post about them, so this one will not be relative. This last week was interesting. Now I'm sitting in kind of a strange mood--sort of like..lost, or confused, but otherwise stable. Am I ever really stable? I don't know. I'm feeling kind of a void right now, an emptiness. Of course there are things..or people..I could fill it with, but the timing of any action is important. I'm asking myself, as I write this, why bring it up in the blog if you're not going to dish out every last intimate detail? Well, Blog, because I want a public mention of it without spilling everything..you know, maybe arouse some interest in certain of my readers? Bayley would make a good neonatal nurse, methinks.

That's all for now, jerks!