I wrote these when I was 16-17, a decade ago. I just rediscovered them and thought I would share. Thoughts?
A ruthless manakin in a button down suit.
fifty pounds of lie and half a gram of the truth.
Wringing hands in agony and then laughing in front of you.
Plastic cold edges smoothed hide character marks behind beauty of youth.
Immortal as a character statue in a play.
Unmoving, unblinking, unthinking, unswayed.
Lobotomy eyes burning bright with shallow light.
Limited by insistent standards of construction.
Stuck under a truckload of guilt, dedication and lust.
Three outa five are living in their heads.
Is it the kids going crazy or the drugs they're being fed?
where it comes from
that unquenchable burning in the heart of ones being, screaming for reciprocation. The wandering wraith of the desert, lonely and mad. The life of hopes and wishes and of fairy tale endings and cheesy movie lines. The will to open again the scars of failed visions, to dream again in the face of jaded watchers. The shards of fallen memories, the cracked and worn out possibility pulled from the bottom of the toy chest. The chance of a twin soul emerging.
the mischievous goddess
She is a midnight phantom, a ripple on the pond. Lightning is her travel companion, thunder is her kiss goodbye, rain is all she leaves behind. She is shimmering and incorporeal, a fading thought, a gust of wind. She is coyote, the dancing trickster finding fools. She is a volcano, burning, raw and lethal. She sings with liquid whispers, counts the off beat and never warns before dropping the melody. She is a razor blade, cold, precise and painfully familiar. She is a raging torrent and a sunny afternoon, she comes and goes without announcement or invitation. She is always sweet when she arrives, and always bitter when she leaves... There is no accounting for love.