Thursday, August 5, 2010

Good Quote

'Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.' H. L. Mencken

Monday, August 2, 2010

An Old Favorite of Mine


“You let go and I fall
Into the rocks below, the rocks
Only meant for me…

My wings fail to save me as they open to embrace the sharp edges as I feel each bone break and shatter…
The Jagged stones pierce through my flesh, muscles tear, and blood flows like a river through the mountains of regret and abandonment.
My eyes cloud over, but fall no tears, the pain is just too much, reminding me I am not dead, only battered, bruised, and torn…
Feathers now stained red cease to flutter, cease to cushion my fall and I see my heart beating softly upon the rock that ripped through my chest…
My soul, once shown through the eyes of an angel, now waits for death to claim it, but even that would be far too easy for my life to grant me…
Instead, I lay in a pool of crimson regret and broken wings that no one can mend…agony reminding me I am still alive, still breathing, though, each intake I beg the sky, the rocks, and the dark to consume me and let me die so my suffering will end… and softly, deliberately, a voice as harsh and as hard as my shallow grave calls over the stillness as the fire and passion my soul once knew, drips out with my blood…each word echoes as I close my eyes and taste of fear and hate…


“I lay in a pool of my own blood, no tears come to join it, but pain consumes my every thought and again I hear that harsh hard voice calling and I muttered in a breath barely heard, “Alone is for those who have no choice.”
With strength beyond my wildest dreams I stand taking my heart into my hand…I place it back within my chest and shake my fist at the dark
My legs shift under me covered in blood, but I have only one desire now. Fueled by thoughts, spurred by fire, my wings hang useless, broken and shattered, but even now, I feel the new ones grow, not white, but scarlet velvet show…Beautiful, strong, they raise above me, covering my bruises and sheltering my battered form…My soul, alive cries to the sky, screaming for
freedom, not from pain, but from you…”