[You sit in paralytic isolation in the blackest of chasms….what are you contemplating? whilst you behold your keloid adorned scars, eclipsed under the dark shadows of your tattooed arms…]
Forsaken in the ferment of rampant emotions… drifting into the abysmal crevices of my bereft soul… why ask when you cannot discern…who would know death if had not experienced it…..
[I regret I am intrigued…. I am but a drone for the mystification that is etched within your mutilated skin… entranced by the razor blade screaming within your hands… for my own barren hands lie devoid of such feeling…]
So you come here to watch…? Witness me slit open my pain… bare my wrists for sanctification… carve out another wound …one for each act of sacrilege this defiled soul has endured?
[I wish I could see your soul… I crave for that vision … but I can only see its shattered reflections in the rents you create… only see its shards dissecting out of your wrists like the birth of a tormented being…]
It is not the birth… it is the demise of my existence….streams of glistening red is my reality….the pain ridden ecstasy of lacerated flesh is my redemption…my sense of verity is not yours… we live in the same world… yet you cannot see….
[I strive to … but I feel impotent…as if iron gates of my imbecilic perception, deny me the right of passage beyond this clouded vision…. yes, we live in the same world…. perhaps I am blind…]
No... you are not blind… I just see too much….
Copyright 2004 Zheala
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/6754/48133 on Friday September 05th, 2008 01:31 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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