Before I come back,
Am heading home
Solo!
So long
Oh to be alone!
Tag: post
See evil, Say no evil, Done evil
The name and pretense of virtue is as serviceable to self-interest as are real vices.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld
The forbidden, no one speaks of it.
Not you, him or them
and neither will I.
We perfected the art of pretense.
If not spoken, then there isn’t life to it
Hence, did it really happen?
Peace of mind so foreign,
can barely remember when you had the luxury of its presence.
Your soul on the cross,
seasons after seasons,
living for your mistakes.
Hey! the Celeste are calling,
if fettered with a troubled soul
come forth and be gifted tranquility.
I presented you this, time after time.
Walk away from your pride, I say.
Love your flaws.
Yet you cling on to the misery you call life.
I have to say, you are fading
from the inside out,
and its almost beautiful to watch if it wasn’t familiar, dead eye.
As we dwell at the teat of the forbidden you forbade.
Written for Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Forbidden – October 11, 2022
Clarity from the blues
Dancing in a yellow light
Oblivious to world around
It’s just me, myself and the blues
Fog
Wait!
If you get too close
and am not how you hoped,
forgive my deceit.
I was raised with little love
scared to life, scared to be
So, I show what you might like.
A facade, is all.
Am running back up the hills now, do not try to follow me.
Hi
Mantle
I can’t believe that I can’t believe it!
Dancing to my tune of rejection
Wrapped up in my internal dissension,
That I somehow ignored my insignificance.
Now, I know am only passing through
Hurts, cause I made in you a mantle.
Had it almost,
Now I do believe am only passing through.
Will I gain courage for the truth?
I pray, cause where my heart is there is never a home.
If i was a writer, i would write tragedies!
“This world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those that feel.”
Horace Walpole
In a dark room with surround sound music, playing alternative/indie music. Sitting in your favorite spot, relaxed, eyes closed and a little tipsy.
Peace/Torture
Why.
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” Oscar Wilde
Was it because I stood up
to the man in the mirror,
flame remembered me?
Was it because I stopped listening
to the voices?
They were never kind.
Was it because I smiled,
and made joy look effortless?
I told my thoughts to resign.
Or do you simply miss
sipping from the cup
of broken me?
Why take it all away?
Now Piper authors
babel’s dirge—
and you vulgar ibises
take heed!
Made of glass
Fragile mind
I don’t want to be described as strong or virtuous or any adjective that more or less describes the subtle art of perfecting suffering.
Angel of small death
Hear Hear
I always thought I didn’t have an addictive trait or personality; boy, did I underestimate the incessant need to forget.
GallopingCrazy 