Saturday, September 30, 2006

   Cutting our ties, burning our bridges
To come forth on the steps to our humble abode in petrified silence as the northern wind that pulls our souls into the current as a maiasma.
You cannot judge wether you who stands on our steps is friend or foe.
A burning flame has metamorphasized into ashes as a charred aroma wafts into the air mixing with the scent of bittersweet peaches in the thrush.

You stand upon the steps and not a soul dare to unlock the iron gate to give leeway for the spirits of days past do not see the worth in our lives no longer.
The essence you emit oh graceful spector has caused a ripple to spill upon the glassy lake, this insolence leads to our long awaited record of time.
For long ago, when a heart was not stone cold, and one's actions were not in an iron fist, the grip of a poisonous viper.
A purity reigned in existence tilling the fields and broadening the view point.
You of now so silver and cold, as a corpse for the fresh yard dirt.
The beating of your heart has stilled into a despotic rigid mortis till only silence occupied the domain.

A love once drove the blood in those viens, the rush of warmth emitting and enveloping.
Oh, how had you loved when your heart beat of fire and passion for humanity and then the warmth faded like a loved silk print or the marks of hatred marring gentle skin. You who now stands upon the steps demanding entry, so as to in a single stroke of the sickle erase all that is and once was from the pages of eternity.
Not a soul dares to unlatch the wrought gate and allow what once lived, loved, and spilled warmth upon the earth to now as a painful reminder not be of any use at all.

The northern winds blew into the deepening odessey that sweeps the europhic soul and drowns pitiful creatures like that of a vice grip in sinking horror, that of quicksand.
Dripping the substance upon the earth, dripping, lying somewhere in a alleyway.
Dimmer and dimmer grows the bleak flashlight.
Exhaust spiraling ghastly into the air above gently, like a cigarette left unattended curling in agony.

The alleyway is freshly sodden with rain yet the smell dreadful quiet lingers.
Like viens snapping and cutting you harm your pale inner ghost, your pale flesh gleams in the faded moonlight as the street is run red in waves of crimson.
What a treat the scene is silent and whistless leaving a jaunty imprint on the mind.
Careaning footsteps near the dingy expose` of marred perfection.
Not a single element stirs, not a drop drips onto the earth below it which signals the start of a shattersphere in our system.
Smog wafts as footsteps continue in langerous pace.

The atmosphere is hint with the tear sodden memories of home, where cries of bitter love burn the air.
Where years of newspaper is covering the walls to keep the world from falling apart pitifully in front of innocent eyes.
Where bottles are shattered and wine drips unto the words of someone forgotten with the flow of time.
Where one lies, stands, sits, lives in solitude always the spector of the innocents dancing around trying bind some of the scars gained with expirence.
A home where anyone seldom knows the current events of the outside world, where rumor is a best friend and truth is a worst fear.
A home where we tred upon blood soaked ground, and where we could have seen something beautiful but missed the chance because of our restricting blindfolds.
A home where we wished to be elsewhere in eternity and be able to watch the stars fall into the black sea.

Forget about days past throw them away such as that of crumpled newspaper from the day's record of news.
Continue to travel in silence as every step stings and burns such as that of scars dripping with with memories that I would have rather balled up and shoved into my back pocket to forget.

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