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| Open Poetry #49 |
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Damien Page Junior Member
since 2014-03-30
Posts 22 |
I used to cry myself to sleep... Sometimes I still do, dreaming about the moment when I died inside of your arms. Listening to your screams echo inside of my mind Tormenting the very essence of my existence, and as I fall deeper into this chaotic slumber I swim inside of your hate, and drown. Yet, being without oxygen has never made me feel so alive. I love you, don't you see that? I thought the bloodshed from my body was enough to appease you. Would you rather me be dead? I can make it happen, I can do it for you. Just, let me know. Okay? Whether near, or far, far away, my soul belongs to you. My soul belongs to you. I spray pesticides in the garden of Eden, and wonder why God doesn't like me. Why don't you like me, too? You were everything to me... Everything... I opened my pages and you left me red. I drip like candle wax when the passion of your flame touches. Bestowed upon me where the cries of a small child Yet, the child has the same voice that I do. I'm confused, do you see my smile? I tend to absorb your darkness... So, maybe you don't. Can you explain to me why you see your shadow when you look in the mirror? You can't drown your demons with liquor when they live inside of you, my dear. Every second the clock ticks reminds me of the time I'll never get back. and every second I spent writing this message I'll never get again. Yet, I find it to be appeasing for my soul to write about you... maybe; by living vicariously through my words, I can hold you in my yearning arms, and feel something other than pain. A tragedy is sketched on my arm through battle scars... I'm not the man I was supposed to become. I'm something different. An unreal manifestation of the wrath bestowed upon me. Chaotic in nature, lacking in pious understanding or guidance. I just want to follow your path of destruction. I just want to die. |
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| © Copyright 2015 Damien Page - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Ticklefingers Senior Member Posts 710 Louisiana |
quote: A profound line of poetry friend. You wrote many words Damien Page, but these I quote pierced the shroud that has covered them for some time now. 88's friend She told me "play one for your supper Danny and maybe you'll get breakfast". |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
lots of emotions here...james |
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