There must be another part to this dream that I can't let go of
But somehow it keeps getting interrupted.....
"Even with this vague helping hand,
In a split second the cocoon's threads are torn apart and turn to ash"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poems that lurk in the darkness of my mind will find their peace on this digital paper.....
~Aizome~
i may have grown
but my heart got left behind
[screaming and panting and screeching in despair]
my mind brushes itself in the mirror
chanting and wailing
[sweeping sighs and stars in its grievance]
your eyes eclipse my crooked masking
the illusion i've been weaving in the ashes
[of endless nights]
[of mourning and grounding]
[of dancing and sleeping]
of the years i've wasted
and the lips i've tasted
for my heart cried alone
for my mind to adorne
[the deep dark frights]
with the unholy lights
. . .
there is no redemption
for the human shells
so emptied by hate
with hunting innate
. . .
Beasts exist
and the worst are the ones
to slither within a soul
[melt it down, burn it to the ground]
there is no room for dreamers
in a circlet of smoke, aromatic and dense
counting footsteps up the balcony
where ivies gently twirled
there is no room for dreamers
into the station where all flee
there is no room for dreamers
with no clock and no god
nor guidance by winds
set sails
. . . .
yet there is no room for dreamers
here where i stand
with a window aside and mirror in my hand
to test a reverted nature
lights, expect them to dim
across the hill's waving rim
to follow trails of thoughts
gathering feathers and knots
but one to leave behind
a trace
for one to find
. . . .
as there is no room for dreamers
like me, my mind, my shadow, my absence
count at a heartbeat's pace
my footsteps
the floating lace
the ivy leaves
and willow trees
[once upon a time
within the midnight's silenced chime]
there is no room for dreamers, nor for this song of mine
i remember a snow as light as paper
walking on it lightly
fox in the storm of immaculateness
losing trace of hunters and hounds
somewhere the soul got corroded
something is missing...
it's the feel itself,
the sensation, the spark
footsteps sound empty
and nameless and shameless,
existence of a stroke of a brush,
somewhere in a book
. . .
the night comes to a close
music lays down to dream
winds rise to sweep
a patch of dust off your shoulder
and i'm off as well
must i stress the meeting point
of the two mediums
my universe and yours
my soul and yours
we wander on different paths
the mind grazes a few happy thoughts
lying to itself of how great it serves
the owner
i wish my demon shouting failure behind
my eyes
would stop inducing fear...
the code somewhere got corrupted
we got lost on the way
wish to decrypt my heart
and you no longer wander
[alone]
spread your wings, fire bird
never let anyone steal your sky
[return energetic, flaming brighter
where the earth and sky meet
my mind will follow with the winds]
[never forget]
Afloat and weightless
consuming and consumed by fear and hate
display of massacres of all hearts and principles
children playing with matches,
grin with excitement
the specter watches entertained
the scene and mumbles a summoning
for shame to return to them
for reason to recover them
from the coma of sadism and wild jokes
costing minds, hearts and innocence
. . .
the summonings choke in the specter's throat
with a rain of tears and storm of sighs...
the yurei shies away
the ghost of motherly affection, love
consumes slowly a thought
[mirrors and masks crack and shatter in the dust]
something from the inside howls
yet the howls are minimized
to a screech of a moving door
merely the reason separated from the soul
draw a puppet and a ghost
the portrait will not be painted
being too appalling for humane aesthetics
but the shades remain, swaying protection for swollen eyes
