> a dream's breath
like a overripe melon burst filling the dusty tarmac of time with so much brainjuice my consciousness is a thing of the past.. a faint figment of a sweet dream since awoken to the harsh cold reality of the now.. the facts that linger in the air like a poisoned haze blurring all subconscious and numbing all intents and emotions holding the barely pounding heart hostage.. tiedup with driedup arteries and the pain in my gut that is my tangledup intestines wound round tight squeezing the bloodredheart constricting enclosing.. lungs punctured with a thousand fiveinch needles of spite and air gushing out of a million razor cuts i breathe my last breath again and again and yet again..
my hands reach out and i hold nothing as my brain is dripping its last few drops and my hands hit instead of touch and i hit myself so hard i puncture my ego and drown my pride with my own rancid brainmatter.. flooding the streets of lost civility and washing away the hope of tomorrows and crushing the pangs of passion like so much a nameless bug.. skuttling across a nameless street stepped on hard by the sharpened stilletoes and bootheels of reality and run over multipletimes by the wheels of false dreams and the delights of seeming impulsiveness and being laughed at by the crafty Mr Spontenity.. amused at the gullibility of lesser mortals who'd mistaken lust for love and settling down in a cottage of hope by the lakeside.. oblivious to the rising tidalwave who've since hit and crushed the cottage like a pile of nameless twigs stackedup high.. peering out of a window with no view wallowing in the comfort and warmth of a fire since extinguished and holding the ambers in your cuppedhands that burns you so and you are thankful still..
you are thankful there's still an amber.. you are thankful there's still a smiggen of hope.. you are thankful there's still a dream of love.. you are thankful you can still breathe tho hard but yet you still do and you hold your breath for the longest until you awake..
my thots runnethover ...
my hands reach out and i hold nothing as my brain is dripping its last few drops and my hands hit instead of touch and i hit myself so hard i puncture my ego and drown my pride with my own rancid brainmatter.. flooding the streets of lost civility and washing away the hope of tomorrows and crushing the pangs of passion like so much a nameless bug.. skuttling across a nameless street stepped on hard by the sharpened stilletoes and bootheels of reality and run over multipletimes by the wheels of false dreams and the delights of seeming impulsiveness and being laughed at by the crafty Mr Spontenity.. amused at the gullibility of lesser mortals who'd mistaken lust for love and settling down in a cottage of hope by the lakeside.. oblivious to the rising tidalwave who've since hit and crushed the cottage like a pile of nameless twigs stackedup high.. peering out of a window with no view wallowing in the comfort and warmth of a fire since extinguished and holding the ambers in your cuppedhands that burns you so and you are thankful still..
you are thankful there's still an amber.. you are thankful there's still a smiggen of hope.. you are thankful there's still a dream of love.. you are thankful you can still breathe tho hard but yet you still do and you hold your breath for the longest until you awake..
my thots runnethover ...
