Saturday 6/21/2008 11:53:00 PM

The lie. The bitter acumen. Of taste. Sermons of poison. Try to explain. What I don't understand. About this body. The bait not withstanding. The hook still through my lip. Waiting to be thrown back. Suffocating in the process.

This life. In failing increments. The balance. Not absolving. Masks too thick. Gods pretending to listen. As the locomotive buckles under the strain of the stop. The tracks singing their quiet song. In strains of lost. As if I could ever find what isn't there.

The apes in their fortress stuffing the cannons. Some war I've started, but cannot finish.

I blink and it's all gone.

Alone enough at last. To be certain. It doesn't matter.

And it never did.

Craftsman of light said...
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Craftsman of light said...

the dose you give is intense as usual.
it chokes not to be with you. it chokes to leave you.
Your words are
the giddiness in my tequilla.
Your touches crushes the rose but leaves your fingers are perfumed.
i have been coming and going silently watching your 'sad poems'harsh and beautiful.
at times refusing the tears their sadness. Maybe after all in their harshness is a beauty waiting to be recognised.

hugs to you E

softermaniac said...

i hope so. that there is something redeeming in them. be it the beauty of sorrow of its inherent insightfulness. i hope there's something worthwhile there. even if only on rare ocassions.

always enjoy reading your commments, orgasmik. you're so into it. it flatters me more than i deserve.

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