Without My Muse
No Title (1)
copyright 1999 Janet Ferri
What are you thinking
Is there a worry in that head of
yours
Any thought of love and hope, peace and
joy
Do you think of drunken sluts, pretty
whores
Or are you an ordinary - thoughtless -
little
boy?
What are you thinking
Do you think of all the places you have
been
Silent prayers asking God to deliver you
from
sin
Times of happiness, a future full of
hope
Or are you dangling on that last strand
of
rope
What are you thinking?
No title (2)
copyright 1999 Janet Ferri
Anybody, even nobody would be somebody
right
about now
Was I ever
Could I be
Wish I were
In a dream, a fantasy
The days are bitter cold here in
hell
Just a tease, a mere touch
Oh please, oh pretty please
No Title (3)
If I told you it was over, would you
hurt?
Would the pain seer through you
Your
heart ripped from your chest
Barely beating, a worn down
wind-up toy
Without the interest of a starving maggot
Would you feel like a
helpless insect
Wings
torn from its torso
Would it be as you'd awaken from a
wonderful dream
Or you had
slipped into a nightmare from which
you'll never awaken
The gates of hell had opened up and
warmly taken you in. Now you're pushed
against the burning walls, face first.
But it's not the fire, it's the tears
that burn your cheeks. And in your
throat it's the fresh burning well
seeping up from the pit of your stomach
where the boiling begins from the fire
of your heart.
The exhaustion from being so
overwhelmed. The dizziness from the
attack. The nauseousness from the
disease. Would you feel it?
Each time I think the turmoil has begun
I feel it
Bask in it, hoping to walk
away
It pulls me back.
No, leads me back.
No, pleads me back.
No, I turn and go back.
No, no, I just never leave.
And I don't come out. So I live the
hurt and endure the pain.
No title (4)
copyright 1999 Janet Ferri
It's a fire storm, with whirlwinds
Seering embers burn through me
With my pain it grows
Unbearable
I close my eyes, maybe it'll go away
But it seeks me out
To burn me
To destroy me
I want to run
Instead, as a deer staring into
headlights
I freeze
And the storm encompasses me
Burning like green wet leaves
Slowly
Tortuously
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