WIP
copyright © 2001 c. amaris
circles and light,
lifting shadows on
thinning skin
i am only
reflected here,
a misery that cannot
find her words,
in this amalgam
of wasted
voices.
in fetal position,
i wait for your hands and your eyes
and a false fleeting thought that i am
something you would not
detest.
waiting.
who believes? here,
in this place that is not
mine,
these words i am not saying
fall like silent prayers.
god is deaf
and does not hear the cries
as i fall into my mind,
curling so that
you can't hurt me now.
you can't even see
eyes that fade, blue darkening
into sadness that will not
shine.
and how many others
just stand there
waiting
expecting scars and
bruises, perhaps
picked-at flesh that peels and
flakes.
waiting
thinking about
my tendency
to turn inside.
wondering,
will i inflict this
pain that is hiding
with half closed eyes,
searching for
the chance to break free
from mirrors and
excess
and do they
want tickets to this
show? those mourners,
ready and
waiting
for me to grieve.
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