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Words from my twisted Mind..

Keely's Dream

I sat next to her on the floor.

Her face pale and bleeding.

Her hair blonde and tangled.

She spoke so carefully

When she spoke of her dream.

In it, she was dressed in rags.


And a stranger followed her through the dark.

He wanted her because she was pure.



One kiss would make all shatter.

Like glass.

Like China.

But put it off for a while.

Gag her and she sleeps again...

Awaking to your beloved souls,

Dangling from their limbs.

Wrapped in leather,

Like Bondage Bettys in the sky.

If you run fast enough,

You'll swim through the mist

to saved your beloved souls,

the vampire stranger comes after you again,

But you wake to a sweat that it

Deathly cold...

Heaven Haven
To the eternal rest haven, I pace into.
Turning down the blaring sounds that echo from weekend before.
Love and want to say "Good Day"

I could find that spot with my eyes closed.
Behind the tree.
It stands as a gaurd of her.
Protecting her.
Her, a part of me.
Me, a part of her.
I offer her a gift of butterflies,
Marking her as mine.

My misery in incipient.
My arm is incised to the point that it
Hurts no more.
No pain.
No releif.
It never ends.
Lingering thoughts and tear drops that just won't
Leave me be.
Those thoughts may demise, and the tears they may trickle,
But it's never really gone.
I feel like a bottomless pit
With base, substance or reason.
Just oblivious and void.
A downward spiral that sprung up.
Sucking everything down slowly
Diminshing, Killing,
everything...including myself.

(Part II)
Shards of my past self and
Razor blade pieces acculate on my floor
Which spins around my
Fetal postioned body. I look at myself as an outsider;
Hovering above with white wings...
Or peaking around the corner in a trenchcoat.
I see me.
I look the same
My lips are still full
My skin still carved.

But my eyes are solem.
Confussed and stormy
Red and watery.
Saying so much to me,
But it is if she speaks to me
In French
Words sounding so exotic and poetic
But the sad look in her eyes tells me
She speaks of pain and hopelessness.
Life and drama.
Loss and sadness.
I don't know what she says,
But she cries to me, anyway...

Woe down in me.
The days here grow not longer,
But stickier and sweat provoking.
As does my mind grow more and more distrout.
Being is the presence of
Zega's immaculate aura
Makes me more and more depressed.
I envy with a color of teal:
Half green jealousy,
Half blue meloncholy
But all the same.
Zega is with what I am without.
Followers to her grace like
Flies to flesh...

I had a vison of it.
Zega and I stood together.
Zega an annoying perfect halo above her head.
There is Zega
I tall and clumsy with purple hair.
There am I.
Blisters on my thumbs,
Carvings on my stomach-
There am I.
For one day, I want to be a 'Zega'.
Not a Cindy
Not a Betty

Untiled #21
When I sleep, my heart glows red again.
Warming from the cold
Warning from the sun that i cry again.
For Day's brightness is too bold.
Should I take the pills and sleep forever?
Should I take black over blue?
Or should I stay and watch my night sever?
Cowering in this mornig hue.
Staying only as shattered pieces.
No longer a whole.
No longer myself.
Only a shadow..

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